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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, November 19, 1892 + +Author: Various + +Editor: Francis Burnand + +Release Date: May 31, 2005 [EBook #15957] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH *** + + + + +Produced by Malcolm Farmer, William Flis, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team. + + + + + + +</pre> + + <h1>PUNCH,<br /> + OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.</h1> + + <h2>Vol. 103.</h2> + <hr class="full" /> + + <h2>November 19, 1982.</h2> + <hr class="full" /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page229" + id="page229"></a>[pg 229]</span> + + <h2>THE MAN WHO WOULD.</h2> + + <h3>II.—THE MAN WHO WOULD PLAY GOLF.</h3> + + <p><span class="sc">Bulger</span> was no cricketer, no + tennis-player, no sportsman, in fact. But his Doctor + recommended exercise and fresh air. "And I'm thinking, Sir," he + added, "that you cannot do better than just take yourself down + to St. Andrews, and put yourself under <span class="sc">Tom + Morris</span>." "Is he a great Scotch physician?" asked + <span class="sc">Bulger</span>; "I don't seem to have heard of + him." "The Head of the Faculty, Sir," said the medical + man—"the Head of the Faculty in those parts."</p> + + <p><span class="sc">Bulger</span> packed his effects, and, in + process of time, he arrived at Leuchars. Here he observed some + venerable towers within a short walk, and fancied that he would + presently arrive at St. Andrews. In this he was reckoning + without the railway system—he was compelled to wait at + Leuchars for no inconsiderable time, which he occupied in + extracting statistics about the consumption of whiskey from the + young lady who ministered to travellers. The revelations now + communicated, convinced <span class="sc">Bulger</span> that + either Dr. <span class="sc">Morris</span> was not on the lines + of Sir <span class="sc">Andrew Clark</span>, or, as an + alternative, that his counsels were not listened to by + travellers on that line.</p> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:55%;"> + <a href="images/229.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/229.png" + alt="" /></a> + </div> + + <p>Arriving in the dusk, <span class="sc">Bulger</span> went to + his inn, and next morning inquired as to the address of the + Head of the Faculty. "I dinna ken," said an elderly person, to + whom he appealed, "that the Professors had made + <span class="sc">Tom</span> a Doctor, though it's a sair and + sad oversicht, and a disgrace to the country, that they hae'na + done sae lang syne. But I jalouse that your Doctor was jist + making a gowk o' ye." "What!" said + <span class="sc">Bulger</span>. "Jist playin' a plisky on ye, + and he meant that <span class="sc">Tom</span> wad pit ye in the + way o' becoming a player. Mon, ye're a bull-neckit, bow-leggit + chiel', and ye'd shape fine for a Gowfer! Here's + <span class="sc">Tom</span>." And, with this brief + introduction, the old man strolled away.</p> + + <p><span class="sc">Bulger</span> now found himself in the + presence of Mr. <span class="sc">Morris</span>, whose courtesy + soon put him on a footing of friendliness and confidence. He + purchased, by his Mentor's advice, a driver, a cleek, a putter, + a brassey, an iron, a niblick, and a mashy. Armed with these + implements, which were "carried by an orphan boy," and, under + the guidance of the Head of the Faculty himself, + <span class="sc">Bulger</span> set forth on his first round. + His first two strokes were dealt on the yielding air; his third + carried no inconsiderable parcel of real property to some + distance; but his fourth hit the ball, and drove it across the + road. "As gude as a better," quoth the orphan boy, and bade + <span class="sc">Bulger</span> propel the tiny sphere in the + direction of a neighbouring rivulet. Into this affluent of the + main, <span class="sc">Bulger</span> finally hit the ball; but + an adroit lad of nine stamped it into the mud, while pretending + to look for it, and <span class="sc">Bulger</span> had to put + down another. When he got within putting range, he hit his ball + careering back and forward over the hole, and, "Eh, man," quoth + the orphan boy, "if ye could only drive as you put!"</p> + + <p>In some fifteen strokes he accomplished his task of holing + out; and now, weary and desponding (for he had fancied Golf to + be an easy game), he would have desisted for the day. But the + Head of the Faculty pressed on him the necessity of "The daily + round, the common task." So his ball was tee'd, and he lammed + it into the Scholar's Bunker, at a distance of nearly thirty + yards. A niblick was now placed in his grasp, and he was + exhorted to "Take plenty sand." Presently a kind of simoom was + observed to rage in the Scholars' Bunker, out of which emerged + the head of the niblick, the ball, and, finally, + <span class="sc">Bulger</span> himself. His next hit, however, + was a fine one, over the wall, where, as the ball was lost, + <span class="sc">Bulger</span> deposited a new one. This he, + somehow, drove within a few feet of the hole, when he at once + conceived an intense enthusiasm for the pastime. "It was a fine + drive," said the Head of the Faculty. "Mr. + <span class="sc">Blackwell</span> never hit a finer." Thus + inflamed with ardour, <span class="sc">Bulger</span> + persevered. He learned to waggle his club in a knowing way. He + listened intently when he was bidden to "keep his eye on the + ba'", and to be "slow up." True, he now missed the globe and + all that it inhabit, but soon he hit a prodigious swipe, well + over cover-point's head,—or rather, in the direction + where cover-point would have been. "Ye're awfu' bad in the + whuns," said the orphan boy; and, indeed, + <span class="sc">Bulger's</span> next strokes were played in + distressing circumstances. The spikes of the gorse ran into his + person—he could only see a small part of the ball, and, + in a few minutes, he had made a useful clearing of about a + quarter of an acre.</p> + + <p>It is unnecessary to follow his later achievements in + detail. He returned a worn and weary man, having accomplished + the round in about a hundred and eighty, but in possession of + an appetite which astonished him and those with whom he + lunched. In the afternoon, the luck of beginners attending him, + he joined a foursome of Professors, and triumphantly brought in + his partner an easy victor. In a day or two, he was drinking + beer (which he would previously have rejected as poison), was + sleeping like a top, and was laying down the law on stimy, and + other "mysteries more than Eleusinian." True, after the first + three days, his play entirely deserted + <span class="sc">Bulger</span>, and even Professors gave him a + wide berth in making up a match. But by steady perseverance, + reading Sir <span class="sc">Walter Simpson</span>, taking out + a professional, and practising his iron in an adjacent field, + <span class="sc">Bulger</span> soon developed to such an extent + that few third-rate players could give him a stroke a hole. He + had been in considerable danger of "a stroke" of quite a + different character before he left London, and the delights of + the Bar. But he returned to the Capital in rude health, and may + now often be seen and heard, topping into the Pond at + Wimbledon, and talking in a fine Fifeshire-accent. It must be + acknowledged that his story about his drive at the second hole, + "equal to <span class="sc">Blackwell</span>, himself, + <span class="sc">Tom Morris</span> himself told me as much," + has become rather a source of diversion to his intimates; but + we have all our failings, and <span class="sc">Bulger</span> + never dreams, when anyone says, "What is the record drive?" + that he is being drawn for the entertainment of the sceptical + and unfeeling. <span class="sc">Bulger</span> will never, + indeed, be a player; but, if his handicap remains at + twenty-four, he may, some day, carry off the monthly medal. + With this great aim before him, and the consequent purchase of + a red-coat and gilt-buttons, <span class="sc">Bulger</span> has + a new purpose in existence, "something to live for, something + to do." May this brief but accurate history convey a moral to + the Pessimist, and encourage those who take a more radiant view + of the possibilities of life!</p> + <hr /> + + <h3>A Plebiscite for Parnassus.</h3> + + <blockquote> + <p>[The result of the <i>Pall Mall's</i> competition for + the Laureateship has been to place Mr. + <span class="sc">Eric Mackay</span> and Mr. + <span class="sc">Gilbart-Smith</span> first and second, and + <span class="sc">Swinburne</span> and + <span class="sc">Morris</span> nowhere.]</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>A popular vote the Laureate's post to fill?</p> + + <p>Ay! if Parnassus were but Primrose Hill.</p> + + <p>The Penny Vote puts lion below monkey.</p> + + <p>'Tis "Tuppence more, Gents, and <i>up goes the + donkey!</i>"</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <p><span class="sc">Quite Moving</span>.—<i>From Far and + Near</i> and <i>All Alive</i>, are two excellent "movable + toy-books" that will please the little ones (when their seniors + are tired of playing with them) far into the Yule-tide season. + The author is <span class="sc">Lothar Maggendorfer</span>, a + gentleman to whom <i>Mr. Punch</i> wishes a "Merry Christmas + and a Happy New Year." This may appear a little premature, but + it is a far cry from England to Germany, and the Sage of Fleet + Street has allowed for any delays that may be caused by fogs, + railway unpunctuality, and other necessary evils.</p> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page230" + id="page230"></a>[pg 230]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:100%;"> + <h2>THE AMERICAN + GANYMEDE.</h2><a href="images/230.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/230.png" + alt="" /></a> + </div> + + <blockquote class="note"> + <p>[The extraordinary triumph of Mr. + <span class="sc">Grover Cleveland</span>, Democratic + Candidate for the American Presidency, is attributed to a + general revolt against the McKinley Bill.]</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>O plump and pant-striped boy, upborne,</p> + + <p class="i2">Like Ganymede of old,</p> + + <p><i>Punch</i> hails you, with your slack, untorn,</p> + + <p class="i2">Fast in the Eagle's hold.</p> + + <p>It is, indeed, a startling sight</p> + + <p class="i2">That speculation tarries on;</p> + + <p>And it must give an awful fright</p> + + <p class="i2">To Hebe (<i>alias</i> + <span class="sc">Harrison</span>!)</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Up, up to the Olympus, where</p> + + <p class="i2">The White House spreads its board,</p> + + <p>Whirled high through the electoral air,</p> + + <p class="i2">A boy less long than broad!</p> + + <p>He looks not like the Tammany breed,</p> + + <p class="i2">That with high tariffs dally;</p> + + <p>He proves, this Yankee Ganymede,</p> + + <p class="i2">The Democratic rally.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>This eagle's a colossal fowl,</p> + + <p class="i2">Like <i>Sindbad's</i> monstrous Roc,</p> + + <p>A bird of prey some say, a-prowl</p> + + <p class="i2">Like that Stymphalian flock,</p> + + <p>With iron claws and brazen beak,</p> + + <p class="i2">Intent to clutch and collar,</p> + + <p>Fired with devotion strong, yet weak,</p> + + <p class="i2">To the Almighty Dollar.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Pooh! Plunder's not his only joy.</p> + + <p class="i2">He hovered till he saw</p> + + <p>"A something-pottle-bodied boy,"</p> + + <p class="i2">Who spurned + <span class="sc">McKinley's</span> Law.</p> + + <p>He stooped and clutched him, fair and good,</p> + + <p class="i2">Flew nigh o'er roof and casement,</p> + + <p>Whilst the Republicans all stood</p> + + <p class="i2">Agape in sheer + amazement.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page231" + id="page231"></a>[pg 231]</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>He soars with proudly swelling crest</p> + + <p class="i2">And followed with acclaims,</p> + + <p>A cause of wonder in the West,</p> + + <p class="i2">And crowing by the Thames.</p> + + <p>For England, glorying in the sight,</p> + + <p class="i2">Greets Boy and Bird together;</p> + + <p>Whilst watching with serene delight</p> + + <p class="i2">That big, black, falling feather!</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h2>ROBERT ON LORD MARE'S DAY.</h2> + + <p>The most ewentfoollest day of the hole year broke, as the + poets says, without almost not no fog, on Wensday larst, to my + grate serprise and joy; but noing, from long xperiens, how + unsertain is whether at this orful seasun of the year, I took + jest one leetel glass of hold brandy before setting out on my + arjus dootys. I was encurraged to do so also by the horful + rumers as was spread about, weeks afore, as to threttend atacks + on the sacred Show by some disapinted prottestens, I think they + called theirselves, as hadn't bin inwited to the Bankwet, and + so meant to prottest accordingly.</p> + + <p>But I needn't a bin alarmd, for the most respekful mob as + filled the streets was as quiet as mice, havin heard, I'm told, + as how as the Copperashun had had the lectric light turned on + at Gildhall, by which means, of course, they coud comunicate + with any-wheres, and so know where to send an hole army of + Waiters to, well fortyfide, and armed to the teeth with a + splendid Lunch, to help the pore Perlice in their arjus + dootys.</p> + + <p>From wot I seed of the butifool Sho, I shood give the cake + to the Frute-Makers' splendid Car, all covered with the most + butifool Frute, all made, too, in England, as it trewthfoolly + said on both sides of the high-backed Car. The second plaice I + shood give to the numerus butifool young Ladys, with most + butifool flaxin air, all most bisily ingaged in a twistlin and + a twiddlin of luvly gold and silver wire, on a Car belongin to + the Makers of Gold and Silver Wire Drorers, wich I heard a most + respectfool carpenter declare, must, he thort, be most + uncomferal to wear. With that good fortun as allers atends the + Hed Waiter, I seem to have atracted the notis of one of the + most butifool of the young Ladys afoursaid, for she acshally + tossed me a luvly littel bit of reel golden wire, which I shall + trezure nex my art for years, if so be as how it don't + skratch.</p> + + <p>The grand Bankwet, with its nine hunderd Gestes, was as + ushal, about the grandest thing of the kind as the world has + ever seen, but sumhows it struck me as the gents was much more + impashent for their wittles than they ushally is. At my + pertickler tabel, the two gents at the top was that trubblesum + about the reel Turtel-soup as I ain't a tall accumstumed to, + and I amost poured a hole ladel-full down the fine shirt-front + of one of em; and then, trying at the next help to awoid him, I + sent my helbow full into the face of the other, and a pretty + fuss he made, you bet, and acshally torked of sending for the + souperintendent, ewidently not knowing who I was.</p> + + <p>The same himpashent Gent amost worried my life out + arterwards, and all about a glass of <i>plane</i> water as he + called it, and when I told him as I didn't think as we hadn't + not none in the plaice, but I coud get him a bottel of amost + any kind of Shampane as he liked to name; he again said as he + wood call for the souperintendent. So in course I had to go for + some, and a preshus long time it took me to get it; the + wine-steward naterally sayin as he never before herd of sich a + order on sich a ocasion, and he had only one bottel with him, + and when I took it to the himpashent Gent, and told him so, he + fairly roared with larfter, and told it all round as a capital + joke! I wunders where the joke was.</p> + + <p>When the dinner was over and the speaches began, I got + permishun to stand unner the gallery for to hear them; but + strange to tell, not a word coud I hear, and them as I did hear + I coudn't unnerstand. So I began for to fear as crewel age was + a tarnishing of my 'earrings, so I moved to the other end of + the 'All jest in time for to hear a werry dark but gennelmanly + young feller, as was called the Gayqueer, or some such + wonderfool name, and who, I was told, come all the way from + Indier, make sitch a grand and nobel speach, and in quite as + good Inglish as ewen I coud use, as got him more applorse from + the distinguisht hordiens than all the speaches maid by Her + Madjesty's Ministers put together. Always xceptin the Lawyers, + for they seems to have sitch a jolly good time of it, that they + are allers as reddy to cause a larf as to enjoy one. We all + seemed sumhow to miss the werry <span class="sc">Prime + Minister</span>—we are all so acustomd to see the werry + top of the tree, that we don't quite like being put off with a + mere bow, however big and himportant it may be; besides, I must + confess as I do like to hear his luvly woice, ewen when I don't + quite unnerstand all as he says. So I don't suppose as any one + of my numerus readers will quarrel with me when I says, better + luck nex time.</p> + + <p class="author">Robert.</p> + <hr /> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:60%;"> + <a href="images/231.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/231.png" + alt="CANDID CRITICISM." /></a> + + <h3>CANDID CRITICISM.</h3> + + <p>"<span class="sc">Like my New Frock, Aunt + Jane?</span>"</p> + + <p>"<span class="sc">Well, <i>I</i> should say you'd got + Skirts for your Sleeves, and a Sleeve for your + Skirt!</span>"</p> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h3>Proofs before Letters.</h3> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Humbugs will always ape their betters,</p> + + <p class="i2">Fools fancy the alphabet brings them + fame;</p> + + <p>But you don't become a man of letters</p> + + <p class="i2">By tacking the letters after your + name.</p> + + <p>One suffix only the <i>fact</i> expresses,</p> + + <p>And that's an A and a couple of S's!</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <p><span class="sc">Another Meaning.</span>—<i>I + Rantzau</i> is the title of <span class="sc">Mascagni's</span> + new Opera. The title, anglicised, would be suitable for an + old-fashioned transpontine melodramatic tragedian, who could + certainly say of himself, "<i>I rant so!</i>"</p> + <hr /> + + <h3>Shakspearian Conundrum.</h3> + + <p>At what time would <span class="sc">Shakspeare's</span> + heroine of <i>The Taming of the Shrew</i> have been eminently + fitted to be a modern Sunday-School teacher?</p> + + <p><i>Answer.</i> When <i>Petruchio</i> kissed her; because + then she was <i>a Kattie Kiss'd</i>. (Hem! A Cate-chist.)</p> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page232" + id="page232"></a>[pg 232]</span> + + <h2>ALL ROUND THE FAIR.</h2> + + <h4 class="sc">No. I.</h4> + + <blockquote> + <p><span class="sc">Scene</span>—<i>A street of + Gingerbread, Sweetstuff, and Toy-stalls, "Cocoa-nut Shies," + "Box-pitching Saloons," &c., forming the approach to + the more festive portion of the Fair, from which proceeds a + cheerful cacophony of orchestrions, barrel-organs, + steam-whistles, gongs, big drums, rattles, and + speaking-trumpets.</i></p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p><i>Proprietors of Cocoa-nut Shies.</i> Now, then, play + up all o' you—ar-har! There goes another on 'em! + <i>That's</i> the way to 'it 'em—win all yer like, + &c.</p> + + <p><i>A Rival Proprietor</i> (<i>pointing to his target, + through the centre of which his partner's head is + protruded</i>). Look at <i>that</i>! Ain't that better nor + any coker-nut? Every time you 'it my mate's 'ed, you git a + good cigar! (<i>As the by-standers hang back, from motives + of humanity.</i>) 'Ere, <i>'ave</i> a go at 'im, some o' + you—give 'im a little encouragement!</p> + + <p><i>The Head</i> (<i>plaintively</i>). Don't neglect a + man as is doing his best to please yer, gen'l'men! (<i>A + soft-hearted Bystander takes a shot at him, out of sheer + compassion, and misses.</i>) Try agen, Sir. I ain't 'ere to + be <i>idle</i>!</p> + + <p><i>A Sharp Little Girl</i> (<i>presiding over a sloping + Chinese Billiard-board</i>). Now, my dears—(<i>To a + group of boys, of about her own age</i>)—'ave what + yer like. A penny a pull, and a prize every time! Wherever + the marble rolls, you 'ave any one article on the + board!</p> + </div> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:55%;"> + <a href="images/232.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/232.png" + alt="'Now then, play up, all o' yea—ar-har!'" /> + </a>"Now then, play up, all o' yea—ar-har!" + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>[<i>One of the boys pays a penny, and pulls a handle, + propelling a marble, which, after striking a bell at the + top of the slope, wobbles down into a compartment.</i></p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p><i>The Boy</i> (<i>indicating a gorgeous china ornament + on the board</i>). I'll 'ave one o' them—to take 'ome + to mother.</p> + + <p><i>The S.L.G.</i> (<i>with pitying superiority</i>). No, + my boy, you can go to a shop and <i>buy</i> one o' them for + sixpence if you like—but 'ere you must 'ave what you + <i>git</i>!</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>[<i>She awards him a very dingy lead-pencil, with which + he departs, abashed, and evidently revolving her dark + saying in his perplexed mind.</i></p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p><i>Proprietor of a Box-pitching Saloon.</i> One penny a + ball! For hevery ball that goes in the boxes, you choose + any prize you like! (<i>With sorrow and sympathy, to a + female Competitor.</i>) Too 'ard, Lady, too <i>'ard</i>! + (<i>To a male Comp., whose ball has struck the edge of the + box, and bounced off.</i>) Very <i>near</i>, Sir!</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>[<i>Several Competitors expend penny after penny + unsuccessfully, and walk away, with a grin of entire + satisfaction.</i></p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p><i>Joe</i> (<i>landing a ball in one of the boxes, after + four failures</i>). I told 'ee I'd get <i>waun</i> in! + (<i>To his Young Woman.</i>) What are ye goin' to 'ave, + <span class="sc">Melia</span>?</p> + + <p><i>Melia</i> (<i>hovering undecidedly over a glittering + array of shell-boxes, cheap photograph-albums and + crockery</i>). I'll take one o'—no, I won't + neither.... I really don't know <i>what</i> to 'ave!</p> + + <p><i>Joe</i> (<i>with masculine impatience</i>). Well, go + on—take <i>summat</i>, can't ye! + (<span class="sc">Melia</span> <i>selects a cup and saucer, + as the simplest solution of the problem.</i>) I doan't carl + that mooch of a show for fippence, I doan't. Theer, gi' us + 'old on it. [<i>He stows the china away in his + side-pockets.</i></p> + + <p><i>Melia.</i> You took an' 'urried me so—else I + don't know as I fancied a cup and sarcer so partickler. I + wonder if the man 'ud change it, supposin' we was to go + back and ast 'im!</p> + + <p><i>Joe</i> (<i>slapping his thigh</i>). Well, you + <i>are</i> a gell and no mistake! Come along back and git + whatever 'tis you've a mind to. (<i>Returning.</i>) 'Ere, + Master, will ye gi' this young woman summat else for this + 'ere? (<i>He extracts the cup in fragments.</i>) 'Ullo, + look a' <i>that</i> now! (<i>To</i> + <span class="sc">Melia</span>.) Theer, it's all + right—doan't take on 'bout it.—I'll 'ave + another go to make it oop. (<i>He pitches ball after ball + without success.</i>) I wawn't be bett. I lay I'll git 'un + in afoor I've done! (<i>He is at last successful.</i>) + Theer—now, ye can please yourself, and doan't choose + nawthen' foolish <i>this</i> time! (<i>He strolls on with + lordly indifference, and is presently rejoined by</i> + <span class="sc">Melia</span>.) Well, what did ye take + arter all?</p> + + <p><i>Melia.</i> I got so flustered like, for fear o' + losin' you, I just up and took the first that came + 'andy.</p> + + <p><i>Joe.</i> Why, if ye ain't bin and took <i>another</i> + cup an' sarcer! hor—hor! that's a good 'un, that is! + Take keer on it, it's cost money enough any 'ow—'t + wouldn't be no bargain if it wur a 'ole tea-set! What's + goin' on 'ere?</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>[<i>A venerable old Sportsman, whom the reader may + possibly recollect having met before, has collected a small + crowd in a convenient corner; his stock-in-trade consists + of an innocent-looking basket, with a linen-cover, upon + which are a sharpened skewer and a narrow strip of + cloth.</i></p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p><i>The Sportsman.</i> I'll undertake to show you more + fun in five minutes, than you'll get over there in two: + (<i>with a vague suspicion that this is rather a lame + conclusion</i>)—in ten, I <i>should</i> say! This + 'ere's a simple enough little game, when you know the trick + of it, and I'm on'y a <i>learnin'</i> it myself. I ain't + doin' this for money. I got money enough to sink a + ship—it's on'y for my own amusement. Now you watch me + a doin' up this garter—keep yer eye on it. (<i>He + coils up the strip.</i>) It goes <i>up</i> 'ere, ye see, + and down <i>there</i>, and <i>in</i> 'ere agin, and then + round. Now, I'm ready to bet anything from a sovereign to a + shilling, nobody 'ere can prick the middle. I'll tell ye if + ye win. I'm ole <span class="sc">Billy Fairplay</span>, and + I don't cheat! (<i>A Spotty-faced Man, after intently + following the process, says he believes he could find the + middle.</i>) Well, don't tell—that's all. I'm 'ere + all alone, agin the lot o' ye, and I want to win if I + can—one dog to a bone! (<i>The</i> S.-F.M. + <i>produces a florin from a mouldy purse, and stakes it, + and makes a dab at the coil with the skewer.</i>) No, ye're + wrong—that's outside! (O.B.F. <i>pulls the strip + out.</i>) By Gum, ye've done it, after all! 'Ere's four bob + for you, and I'm every bit as pleased as if I'd won myself! + 'Oo'll try next?</p> + + <p><i>A Smart Young Man</i> (<i>with a brilliant pin in a + dirty necktie, to</i> <span class="sc">Joe</span>). I don't + see how it's done—do you?</p> + + <p><i>Joe.</i> Ye will if you don't take yer eyes off + it—theer, I could tell ye the middle now, I + could.</p> + + <p><i>The Sp.-F.M.</i> Law, yes, it's simple enough. I done + it first time.</p> + + <p><i>Old B.F.</i> Give an old man a chance to get a bit. + If any party 'ere 'as found me out, let him 'old 'is + tongue—it's all <i>I</i> ask. (<i>To</i> + <span class="sc">Joe</span>.) You've seen this afore, + <i>I</i> know!</p> + + <p><i>Joe.</i> Noa, I ain't—but I could tell ye th' + middle.</p> + + <p><i>Old B.F.</i> Will ye bet on it? Come—not too + 'igh, but just to show you've confidence in your + opinion!</p> + + <p><i>Joe</i> (<i>cautiously</i>). I woant bet wi' ye, but + I'll hev a try, just for nawthen, if ye like!</p> + + <p><i>Old B.F.</i> Well, I want to see if you really + <i>do</i> know it—so, jest for once, I ain't no + objection. (<span class="sc">Joe</span> <i>pricks the + garter.</i>) Yes, you've found the middle, sure enough! + It's a good job there was no money on—for <i>me</i>, + leastwise!</p> + + <p><i>The Sp.-F.M.</i> I've a good mind to 'ave another + try.</p> + + <p><i>The Sm. Y.M.</i> I wouldn't. You'll lose. I could see + you on'y guessed the first time. (<i>The Sp. F.M., however, + extracts a shilling, stakes it—and loses.</i>) There, + <i>I</i> could ha' told you you was wrong—(<i>To</i> + <span class="sc">Joe</span>)—couldn't you?</p> + + <p><i>Joe.</i> Yes, he art to ha' pricked moor to waun side + of 'un. (<i>The Sp.-F.M. stakes another florin.</i>) Now + he's done it, if ye like!</p> + + <p><i>O.B.F.</i> There, ye see, I'm as often wrong as not + myself. (<i>To the Sp.-F.M.</i>) There's your four bob, + Sir. Now, jest once + more!</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page233" + id="page233"></a>[pg 233]</span> + + <p><i>Joe</i> (<i>to</i> <span class="sc">Melia</span>). + I'll git the price o' that theer cup an' sarcer out of 'un, + any'ow. (<i>To</i> O.B.F.) I'll ha' a tanner wi' ye!</p> + + <p><i>O.B.F.</i> 'Alf a soverin, if you like—it's all + the same to me!</p> + + <p><i>Joe</i> (<i>after pricking</i>). I <i>thart</i> I 'ad + 'un that time, too, I did!</p> + + <p><i>The Sm. Y.M.</i> You shouldn't ha' changed your + mind—you were right enough afore!</p> + + <p><i>Joe</i>. Yes, I should ha' stuck to it. (<i>To</i> + O.B.F.) I'll bet ye two bob on the next go—come!</p> + + <p><i>O.B.F.</i> Well, I don't like to say no, though I can + see, plain enough, you know too much. + (<span class="sc">Joe</span> <i>pricks</i>; O.B.F. <i>pulls + away the strip, and leaves the skewer outside</i>.) I could + ha' sworn you done me that time—but there ye + <i>are</i>, ye see, there's never no tellin' at this + game—and that's the charm on it!</p> + </div> + + <blockquote> + <p>[<span class="sc">Joe</span> <i>walks on with</i> + <span class="sc">Melia</span> <i>in a more subdued frame of + mind.</i></p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p><i>The Sm. Y.M.</i> (<i>in the ear of the Spotty-faced + One</i>). I say, I got a job o' my own to attend + to—jest pass the word to the Old Man, when he's done + with this pitch, to turn up beyind the swing-boats there, + and come along yourself, if yer can. It's the old lay I'm + on—the prize-packets fake.</p> + + <p><i>The Sp.-F.M.</i> Right—we'll give yer a look in + presently—it'll be a little change for the Ole + Man—trades's somethin' cruel <i>'ere</i>!</p> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h2>HIS MAD-JESTY AT THE LYCEUM.</h2> + + <p>Except when <span class="sc">Henry Irving</span> + impersonated the hapless victim of false imprisonment in the + Bastille, whence he issued forth after twenty years of durance, + never has he been so curiously and wonderfully made-up as now, + when he represents <i>Lear</i>, monarch of all he surveys. + Bless thee, <span class="sc">Henry</span>, how art thou + transformed!</p> + + <div class="figleft" + style="width:35%;"> + <a href="images/233-1.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/233-1.png" + alt="Rather mixed. Mr. Irving as 'Ophe-Lear.'" /> + </a>Rather mixed. Mr. Irving as "Ophe-Lear." + </div> + + <p>Sure such a <i>King Lear</i> was never seen on any stage, so + perfect in appearance, so entirely the ideal of + <span class="sc">Shakspeare's</span> ancient King. It must have + been a vision of <span class="sc">Irving</span> in this + character that the divinely-inspired poet and dramatist saw + when he had a <i>Lear</i> in his eye. For a moment, too, he + reminded me of <span class="sc">Booth</span>—the + "General," not the "particular" American tragedian,—and + when he appeared in thunder, lightning, hail, and rain, he + suggested an embodiment of the "<i>Moses</i>" of + <span class="sc">Michael Angelo</span>.</p> + + <p>A strange weird play; much for an audience, and more for an + actor, all on his own shoulders, to bear. A one-part play it is + too, for of the sweet <i>Cordelia</i>,—and sweet did + <span class="sc">Ellen Terry</span> look and so tenderly did + she play!—little is seen or heard. With <i>Goneril</i> + and <i>Regan</i>, the two proud and wicked + sisters,—associated in the mind of the modernest British + Public with Messrs. <span class="sc">Herbert Campbell</span> + and <span class="sc">Harry Nicholls</span>, as is also + <i>Cordelia</i> associated either with <i>Cinderella</i> or + with <i>Beauty</i> in the story of <i>Beauty and the + Beast</i>—we have two fine commanding figures; and well + are these parts played by Miss <span class="sc">Ada Dyas</span> + and Miss <span class="sc">Maud Milton</span>. The audience can + have no sympathy with the two wicked Princesses, and except in + <i>Goneril's</i> brief Lady-Macbethian scene with her husband, + neither of the Misses <span class="sc">Lear</span> has much + dramatic chance. Pity that Mrs. + <span class="sc">Lear</span>—his Queen and their mother, + wasn't alive! Let us hope she resembled her youngest daughter + <i>Cordelia</i>, otherwise poor <i>Lear</i> must have had a + hard life of it as a married man.</p> + + <p>Why should not Mr. <span class="sc">Irving</span> give the + first part of this play reconsideration? Why not just once a + week try him as a different sort of <i>Lear</i>? For instance, + suppose, to begin with, that he had had a bad time of it with + his wife, that for many years as a widower he had been seeking + for the opportunity of disposing of his daughters, handing over + to them and to their husbands the lease and goodwill of "The + Crown and Sceptre," while he would be, as King, "retired from + business," and going out for a lark generally. Thus jovially + would he commence the play, a rollicking, gay, old dog, ready + for anything, up to anything, and, like old Anchises, when he + jumped on to the back of Æneas, "a wonderful man for his + years." In fact, <i>Lear</i> might begin like an old King Cole, + "a merry old soul," a "jolly old cock!" And then—"Oh, + what a difference in the morning!"—when all his plans for + a gay career had been shipwrecked by <i>Cordelia's</i> + capricious and unnatural affectation.</p> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:50%;"> + <a href="images/233-2.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/233-2.png" + alt="Mr. Terriss as the Good Fairy." /></a>Mr. Terriss + as the Good Fairy. + </div> + + <p>Then must commence his senility; then he would begin to + break up. A struggle, to show that there was life in the old + dog yet, could be seen when the old dog had been out hunting, + in Act II., and had shot some strange animal, something between + a stag and a dromedary, which no doubt was a native of Britain + in those good old sporting days. However, more of this anon. + Suffice it to say now, that our <span class="sc">Henry + Irving's</span> <i>Lear</i> is a triumph in every respect, and + that the audience only wanted a little more of <i>Cordelia</i>, + which is the fault of the immortal and unequal Bard.</p> + + <p>To those unacquainted with this play, Mr. + <span class="sc">Terriss's</span> sudden appearance in somewhat + anti-Lord-Chamberlain attire, as he bounded on, with a wand, + and struck an attitude, was suggestive of the Good Fairy in the + pantomime; and his subsequent proceedings, when he didn't + change anybody into Harlequin, Clown, and so forth, puzzled the + unlearned spectators considerably. But Mr. + <span class="sc">Terriss</span> came out all right, and + acquitted himself (being his own judge and jury) to the + satisfaction of the public. His speech about Dover Cliff, + generally supposed to convey some allusion to the Channel + Tunnel, was excellently delivered, and certainly after + <i>Lear</i>, "on the spear side," Mr. + <span class="sc">Terriss</span> must take the Goodeley + Cake.</p> + + <p>Next to him in order of merit comes Mr. + <span class="sc">Frank Cooper</span>, as the wicked + <i>Edmund</i>, on whom the good <span class="sc">Edmund</span>, + "Edmundus Mundi," smiled benignantly from a private box. There + was on the first night a great reception given to + <span class="sc">Howe</span>—the veteran actor, not the + wreck, and very far from it—who took the small part of an + old Evicted Tenant of the <i>Earl of Glo'ster</i>, a character + very carefully played by Mr. <span class="sc">Alfred + Bishop</span>, <i>Floreat Henricus!</i> "Our + <span class="sc">Henry</span>" has his work cut out for him in + this "Titanic work," as in his before-curtain and after-play + speech he termed it. This particular "Titanic work" is (or + certainly was that night) in favour with "the gods," who "very + much applauded what he'd done." But the gods of old were not + quite so favourable to "Titanic work" generally, and punished + eternally Titanic workmen. To-night gods and groundlings + applaud to the echo, and then everyone goes home as best he can + in about as beautiful a specimen of a November fog as ever + delighted a Jack-o'-Lantern or disgusted</p> + + <p class="author">Private Box.</p> + <hr /> + + <p><span class="sc">An Operatic + Note</span>.—<i>Wednesday</i>.—Lord Mayor's Day and + Sheriff Sir <span class="sc">Augustus Druriolanus's</span> + Show. <i>L' Amico Fritz</i>, or "The old Min is friendly," as + <i>Dick Swiveller</i> would have put it. Not by any means as + bright as <i>Cavalleria</i>. Mlle. <span class="sc">Del + Torre</span>, del-lightful as <i>Suzel</i>. M. + <span class="sc">Dufriche</span>, very good as <i>Rabbino</i>; + <span class="sc">Cremonini</span>, weak as <i>Fritz</i>; and + Mlle. <span class="sc">Martha-Cupid-Bauermeister</span>, good + as usual in the part of the "harmless necessary + <i>Cat"-erina.</i> Opera generally "going strong."</p> + <hr /> + + <p><span class="sc">Reported Decision</span>.—Uganda is + to be occupied till March next. Then, order of the day, "March + in, March out!"</p> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page234" + id="page234"></a>[pg 234]</span> + + <h2>"SAFE BIND, SAFE FIND!"</h2> + + <h4>P.C. JOHN BULL <i>loquitur</i>:—</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Keep them? Right my Gallic friend!</p> + + <p class="i2">'Tis my duty, sad but binding.</p> + + <p>Free the Wolf—to what good end?</p> + + <p class="i2">Loose the Snake—what vantage + finding?</p> + + <p>Faction flusters, Cant appeals</p> + + <p class="i2">In the name of sham-humanity.</p> + + <p>Right, not wrath, my bosom steels;</p> + + <p class="i2">Softness here were sheer insanity.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p><i>You</i>'ve my warmest sympathy,</p> + + <p class="i2">Victim of the new Red Terror!</p> + + <p><i>My</i> caged <span class="sc">Ravachols</span> to + free</p> + + <p class="i2">Were the maddest kind of error.</p> + + <p>Prison walls and dungeon wards</p> + + <p class="i2">Love I not, I'm no born gaoler,</p> + + <p>But just Law which Freedom guards</p> + + <p class="i2"><i>Must</i> ignore anarchic railer.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Blind offence of men half mad</p> + + <p class="i2">'Neath the goad of brute oppression,</p> + + <p>Blunderings of fierce fools of fad,</p> + + <p class="i2">Demoniacal possession</p> + + <p>Of red rage at law unjust,</p> + + <p class="i2">I can check with calm compassion;</p> + + <p>But must firmly crush to dust</p> + + <p class="i2">Murder—in the newest fashion.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Dynamite as Freedom's friend?</p> + + <p class="i2">'Tis the foul fiend's latest juggle.</p> + + <p>We must fight it to the end,</p> + + <p class="i2">Firm, unfaltering in this struggle.</p> + + <p>Mere "Political Offence,"</p> + + <p class="i2">All this murder, mashing, maiming?</p> + + <p>'Tis a pitiful pretence,</p> + + <p class="i2">Honour-blinding, wisdom-shaming.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Indiscriminate, ruthless raid!</p> + + <p class="i2">Mad chance—medly of disaster!</p> + + <p>Sophistry, the fiend's sworn aid,</p> + + <p class="i2">Never better served its master</p> + + <p>Than in calling such hell-birth</p> + + <p class="i2">A new gospel, holy, human,—</p> + + <p>Blasting as with maniac mirth</p> + + <p class="i2">Blameless men, and guiltless women!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>No! The Dynamiter's creed—</p> + + <p class="i2">Though hate swagger, though cant + snivel—</p> + + <p>Fires no "patriotic" deed;</p> + + <p class="i2">Base-born, all its ends are evil.</p> + + <p>Let caged wolves and tigers free?</p> + + <p class="i2">What more wicked, what absurder?</p> + + <p>Amnesty to Anarchy</p> + + <p class="i2">Means encouragement to Murder?</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <p><span class="sc">Where to Place Him</span>.—Why ought + the future Poet-Laureate, whoever he may be, to occupy rooms + over or close to the stables at Buckingham Palace? Because he + would then be inspired by the Royal Mews.</p> + <hr /> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:60%;"> + <a href="images/234.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/234.png" + alt="A TEST OF TRUE GENTILITY." /></a> + + <h3>A TEST OF TRUE GENTILITY.</h3> + + <p class="sc">"What's the new Lodger like, Mariarann?"</p> + + <p class="sc">"He's no Gentleman, whatever he's like!"</p> + + <p class="sc">"No Gentleman! What's he been and done?"</p> + + <p class="sc">"Why, he see me a-carryin' up the Coals, an' + he says, 'I'm afraid that Scuttle's too heavy for you,' 'e + says,—'pray let <i>me</i> carry it!' 'e says. An' 'e + up and carries it isself, just like a Footman!"</p> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h2>TO A MODEL YOUNG LADY.</h2> + + <blockquote class="note"> + <p>[It is reported that it is a common custom in Paris, + amongst ladies of position, to pay for their dresses by + wearing them in public, and letting it be known from whom + they obtained them.]</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>My dear, I like your pretty dress,</p> + + <p class="i2">It suits your figure to a T.</p> + + <p>I'm free to own that I confess,</p> + + <p class="i2">It's just the kind of dress for me.</p> + + <p>Yet will you kindly tell me, dear,</p> + + <p class="i2">Not merely was the costume made for</p> + + <p>Yourself alone—but is it clear</p> + + <p class="i2">And certain that your dress is paid + for?</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Mistake me not. I do not dread</p> + + <p class="i2">That you'll think fit to run away</p> + + <p>And leave the bill unpaid. Instead,</p> + + <p class="i2">I fear that you will never pay,</p> + + <p>Because no bill will ever come;</p> + + <p class="i2">And since when you decide to toddle</p> + + <p>Abroad, you'll go amidst a hum</p> + + <p>Of praise for Madame's lovely Model</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Oh! promise me that when I read</p> + + <p class="i2">My paper (as I often do),</p> + + <p>I shall not with remorseless speed</p> + + <p class="i2">See endless pars in praise of you,</p> + + <p>Or rather of the dress you wore,</p> + + <p class="i2">For though, maybe, no harm or hurt is + meant,</p> + + <p>Remember, dearest, I implore,</p> + + <p class="i2">I <i>won't</i> be fond of an + advertisement!</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h2>OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.</h2> + + <p>"<i>Days with Sir Roger de Coverley!</i>" exclaimed the + Baron, on seeing the charming little book brought out at this + season by Messrs. <span class="sc">Macmillan</span>. + "Delightful! Immortal! Ever fresh! Welcome, with or without + illustration; some of Mr. <span class="sc">Thomson's</span> + would not be missed."</p> + + <p>There is a breezy, frank, boyish air about the + "Reminiscences" of our great Baritone, <span class="sc">Charles + Santley</span>, which is as a tonic—a tonic + sol-fa—to the reader a-weary of the many Reminiscences of + these latter days. <span class="sc">Santley</span>, who seems + to have made his way by stolid pluck, and without very much + luck, may be considered as the musical <i>Mark Tapley</i>, + ready to look always on the sunny side. With a few rare + exceptions, he appears to have taken life very easily.</p> + + <p>Muchly doth the Baron like Mr. <span class="sc">Hall + Caine's</span> story of <i>Captain Davy's Honeymoon</i>, only, + short as it is, with greater effect it might have been + shorter.</p> + + <p>The Baron, being in a reading humour, tried <i>The Veiled + Hand</i>, by <span class="sc">Frederick Wicks</span>, a name + awkward for anyone unable to manage his "r's." What + Fwedewickwicks' idea of <i>A Veiled Hand</i> is, the Baron has + tried to ascertain, but without avail. Why not a Gloved Hand? + Hands do not wear veils, any more than our old friends, the + Hollow Hearts, wear masks. Hands take "vails," but "that is + another story." However, <i>The Veiled Hand</i> induced sleep, + so the Baron extinguished both candles and Wicks at the same + time, and slumbered.</p> + + <p>I have also had time to read <i>An Exquisite Fool</i>, + published by <span class="sc">Osgood</span>. + <span class="sc">McIlvaine & Co.</span>, and written by + Nobody, Nobody's name being mentioned as being the author. It + begins well, but it is an old, old + tale—<span class="sc">Blanche Amory</span> and the + Chevalier, and so forth—and as <i>Sir Charles + Coldstream</i> observed, when he looked down the crater of + Mount Vesuvius, "There's nothing in it."</p> + + <p>Most interesting is a short paper on "The Green Room of the + Comédie Française," in the <i>English Illustrated Magazine</i> + for this month, pleasantly written by Mr. + <span class="sc">Frederick + Hawkins</span>,—<span class="sc">Hawkins</span> with an + aspirate, not "<span class="sc">'Enery 'Awkins</span>" at + present associated with "<span class="sc">A Chevalier</span>" + in London. Mr. <span class="sc">Hawkins</span> tells many + amusing anecdotes, and gives a capital sketch of M. + <span class="sc">René Molé</span>. But the article would be + damaged by extracts. Therefore, "<i>Tolle, lege</i>," says + yours and everybody's, very truly,</p> + + <p class="author">The Baron de Book-Worms.</p> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page235" + id="page235"></a>[pg 235]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/235.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/235.png" + alt="'SAFE BIND, SAFE FIND!'" /></a> + + <h3>"SAFE BIND, SAFE + FIND!"</h3><span class="sc">Sergent-de-Ville. "HA, + M'SIEU!—<i>YOU</i> HAVE YOUR DYNAMITERS UNDER LOCK + AND KEY! TRÈS BIEN! <i>KEEP</i> THEM!!"</span> + </div> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page237" + id="page237"></a>[pg 237]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:65%;"> + <a href="images/237.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/237.png" + alt="WHAT ABOUT GLASS HOUSES?" /></a> + + <h3>WHAT ABOUT GLASS HOUSES?</h3> + + <p><i>First Jovial Cabby</i> (<i>to Second Ditto</i>). + <span class="sc">"Hi say, Bill, did yer hever see sich Guys + as these 'ere Girls makes of theirselves? Now, ye'd niver + see a <i>Man</i> go and make such a ridik'lous hobjick of + 'isself!!"</span></p> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h2>A PUFF OF SMOKE.</h2> + + <blockquote> + <p>(<i>What the heart of the young Vocalist said to the + Anti-Tobacconist, after reading Mr. Charles Santley's sage + observations on Singing and Smoking, in his new book + "Student and Singer."</i>)</p> + </blockquote> + + <blockquote class="note"> + <p>["Smoking is an art; it may be made useful or otherwise, + according as it is exercised."—Mr. + <span class="sc">Santley</span>.]</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Tell me not, ye mournful croakers,</p> + + <p class="i2">Smoking is a dirty habit.</p> + + <p>Brainless are ye, sour non-smokers,</p> + + <p class="i2">As a vivisected rabbit.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"Smoking is an Art," says + <span class="sc">Santley</span>;</p> + + <p class="i2">There is Beauty in the bowl.</p> + + <p>They who doubt it must be scantly</p> + + <p class="i2">Blest with sense, or dowered with + soul.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p><i>As</i> an Art it claims attention;</p> + + <p class="i2">Study is the only way.</p> + + <p>Smoking skill, <i>not</i> smoke-prevention,</p> + + <p class="i2">Is the thing we want to-day.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Art is long and smoke is fleeting;</p> + + <p class="i2">But puff on until you learn</p> + + <p>Good tobacco's not for <i>eating</i>!</p> + + <p class="i2">Pipe-bowls are not meant to + <i>burn</i>!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Smoke without expectorating,</p> + + <p class="i2">Do not sputter, do not chew;</p> + + <p>Puff not as though emulating</p> + + <p class="i2">Some foul factory's sooty flue</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Let not oily dark defilement</p> + + <p class="i2">Sting your lips; there is no need.</p> + + <p>Joy and care need reconcilement</p> + + <p class="i2">For enjoyment of the weed.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Trust no "Germans," buy no "British,"</p> + + <p class="i2">Sound Havanas only smoke!</p> + + <p>"Lady Nicotine" is skittish,</p> + + <p class="i2">Penny Pickwicks are no joke.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Smoke no strong shag, no rank "stinger,"</p> + + <p class="i2">Pick your baccy, puff with skill,</p> + + <p>And—although you are a singer,</p> + + <p class="i2">You may smoke, and not feel ill.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Let us then be up and smoking,</p> + + <p class="i2">An an Art the thing pursue;</p> + + <p>As great <span class="sc">Santley</span>, who's not + joking,</p> + + <p class="i2">Says <i>he</i> does, and all <i>may</i> + do!</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h2>LADY GAY'S DISTRACTION.</h2> + + <p><span class="sc">Dear Mr. Punch</span>,—You are as + fickle as the rest of your sex, I fear, otherwise you would not + have requited my devotion to you and your interests in such an + awful manner as you did in publishing my husband's letter last + week!—and <i>such</i> a letter! Oh, I could write such a + <i>scathing</i> reply to it!</p> + + <p>Of course, it was jealousy on the part of Sir + <span class="sc">Charles</span> at my literary + success—(setting aside the <i>wonderful</i> + tips)—which caused the explosion that led to his writing + to you, but I never—never—thought you would insert + his letter, especially as I slipped in a postscript which to my + mind explained <i>everything</i>—as, indeed, postscripts + <i>should</i> do, or what is the good of writing a long letter + about nothing in front of them? The wretch confesses that he + laughed at my articles until he knew who wrote them, and then + thought less of them! Isn't that like a husband?—I won't + say like a <i>man</i>, as so few husbands <i>are</i> + men!—at least, in the eyes of their wives. The moment a + wife does something her husband can't do, he dislikes and + pooh-poohs it; whereas, the more accomplishments a husband + displays, the more a wife appreciates him, or <i>says</i> so + even if she doesn't!—which is a noble falsehood, for how + few women are large-minded enough to pretend to admire + qualities which they despise because they don't possess + them—I'm not sure that this is what I mean, nor do I + quite understand it, but it reads well, which is more than Sir + <span class="sc">Charles's</span> stuff does!</p> + + <p>And then his impertinence in proposing to "edit" my + letters!—as if anyone could be more capable of doing that + than <i>you</i>?—(you will observe that it is solely on + <i>your</i> account that I am annoyed!)—I could not brook + such interference!—I don't know exactly the meaning of + "brooking" anything, but I know I wept enough tears of + annoyance to form a decent "brook" of themselves! I need hardly + tell you that it was a biting sarcasm on my part to suggest + that he should finish his letter with a "verse," as I always + do—but there—men don't understand + sarcasm—(one of <i>our</i> most frequently employed + weapons of offence!)—and the poor thing thought I was in + earnest, and did it! And <i>what</i> a verse! I could write + better with my left hand!</p> + + <p>I need scarcely tell you that I have left him—(this is + why my address is not to be published)—as I consider my + duty to the Public rendered it imperative that I should do so, + for I should not think much of any woman who allowed a paltry + consideration of domestic obligations to weigh against the + pursuit of a career of usefulness.</p> + + <p>If, therefore, a vein of sadness and cynicism runs through + this letter, you will understand that it does <i>not</i> + proceed from any regret at the "breaking up of the happy home," + but rather from sorrow at the thought that once again the + intellectual superiority of one of the softer sex has not been + accepted in the right spirit by the possessor of the weaker + mind, to whom she owes obedience!</p> + + <p>I trust I have done with Sir <span class="sc">Charles</span> + for ever!—especially if he speaks the truth in saying + that "following my tips has ruined him"—for why should + any woman burden herself with an impecunious husband? He does + not know where I am, and I feel still more secure in my retreat + from having just heard that he has engaged the services of + several of the most prominent London Detectives to trace + me!</p> + + <p>Owing no devotion now to Sir + <span class="sc">Charles</span>—who will appreciate the + following tender lines with which I close my letter—</p> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>O woman! in our hours of ease,</p> + + <p>Thou art not <i>very</i> hard to please!</p> + + <p>Thou takest what the gods may send;</p> + + <p>But, thwarted!—thou wilt turn and rend!</p> + </div> + </div> + + <p>I am able to subscribe myself, dear <i>Mr. Punch</i>,</p> + + <center> + Yours more devotedly than ever, + </center> + + <p class="author">Lady Gay.</p> + + <p>[From internal evidence, we are inclined to believe that + this present letter, or the one last week from "Sir + <span class="sc">Charles</span>," is a forgery. In former + correspondence Lady <span class="sc">Gay</span> mentioned "Lord + <span class="sc">Arthur</span>" as her husband. We pause for an + explanation.—ED.]</p> + <hr /> + + <p><span class="sc">Proverb for Vocalists, à propos of Sir + Joseph Barnby's Remarks on Articulation</span>.—"Take + care of the sense, and the sounds will take care of + themselves."</p> + <hr /> + + <p>Why is pepper essential to the health of the new + <span class="sc">Lord Mayor</span>?—Because without "Kn." + (cayenne) he would be "ill."</p> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page238" + id="page238"></a>[pg 238]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:65%;"> + <a href="images/238-1.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/238-1.png" + alt="NATURE AND ART." /></a> + + <h3>NATURE AND ART.</h3> + + <p class="sc"><i>A.R.A.</i> "By George, this View's + magnificent! I say, Fluffer, you really ought to have those + Woods painted."</p> + + <p><i>Mr. Fluffer</i> (<i>late in the Upholstery line, + retired.</i>) "<span class="sc">'M—M. Do you think + that would improve 'em? What Colour, now?</span>"</p> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h2>LEFT TO THE LADIES.</h2> + + <p><span class="sc">My dear Mr. Punch</span>,</p> + + <p>Everyone—I mean everyone with a right mind—will + sympathise with those nice people at Bristol who have been + holding a "Woman's Conference." So kind and thoughtful of them, + isn't it? I notice that Lady <span class="sc">Battersea</span> + gave a spirited account of a Confederation of Temperance of + some thirty villages in Norfolk. The dear, good inhabitants are + to keep off the allurements of drink by "listening to such + shining lights as Canon <span class="sc">Wilberforce</span>, + and social teas, processions with banners, and magic-lanterns, + play their part." How they are to listen to the teas, + processions and lanterns, I don't quite understand, in spite of + the fact that they (the aforesaid teas, &c.) seem to be + "playing their parts." Evidently teas, &c., are amateur + Actors.</p> + + <p>Then somebody who described herself as "a nobody from + nowhere," is said to have "touched a moving chord, as she spoke + with great feeling of the sympathy and the moral help the poor + give back to those who work among them." What "moving chord?" + Sounds like a bell-rope!</p> + + <p>Then another lady who wore "the black and lavender dress of + the Sisters of the People," followed with a paper, "perhaps + overfull of details." And here let me say that I am quoting + from "a woman correspondent" who seems to be full of admiration + for her talking sisters. But in spite of this admiration, she + knows their little faults. For instance, she describes a speech + as "vigorous, racy, and perhaps a trifle sensational." Then, + when someone else delivered an "address to educated mothers," + she says that it excited deep interest, and "almost too many + educated mothers threw themselves into the discussion that + followed."</p> + + <p>Then she observes, "It was disappointing that Lady + <span class="sc">Aberdeen</span> was at the last moment + forbidden by her Doctor to undertake the long journey from + Scotland." So it was, most disappointing; and "at the last + moment," too!</p> + + <p>Then she announces that "Some ladies expressed a feeling, + that introducing young men and women in business to each other, + when assembled in their hundreds at Prince's Hall, was an + office fraught with considerable responsibility." To be sure! + Great responsibility! Might even be improper! Everyone should + be <i>so</i> careful!</p> + + <p>However, there was one good thing in this Woman's Conference + that everyone will praise. The delightful, genial, charitable + females seem to have kept to themselves. No men were present. + What a blessing—<i>for the men</i>! Yours gratefully,</p> + + <p class="author">An Old Bachelor.</p> + + <p><i>The Growleries, Lostbuttonbury, Singleton</i>.</p> + <hr /> + + <h3>CHRISTMAS IS COMING!</h3> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:34%;"> + <a href="images/238-2.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/238-2.png" + alt="" /></a> + </div> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>When the ruddy autumn leaves</p> + + <p>Flutter down on golden sheaves,</p> + + <p>And on plum-trees one perceives</p> + + <p class="i8">No more plums—</p> + + <p>All the swallows have not fled,</p> + + <p>Hardly is the summer dead—</p> + + <p>Then, alas, it must be said</p> + + <p class="i8">Christmas comes!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Christmas! Hang it all! But how</p> + + <p>Can that be? 'Tis weeks from now.</p> + + <p>What a fearful thought, I vow</p> + + <p class="i8">That it numbs!</p> + + <p>"Order Christmas papers" fills</p> + + <p>Bookshops, bookstalls. With its bills,</p> + + <p>Taxes, tips, fogs, frosts, coughs, chills,</p> + + <p class="i8">Christmas comes!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Even Christmas-cards appear,</p> + + <p>They are with us half the year,</p> + + <p>I would banish them from here,</p> + + <p class="i8">Say, to Thrums,</p> + + <p>Or to any mournful place,</p> + + <p>Where I'd never show my face,</p> + + <p>For they tell one that, apace,</p> + + <p class="i8">Christmas comes!</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <p><span class="sc">Seasonable Christmas Motto for Well-Known + Fine-Art Publishers</span>.—"<span class="sc">Tuck</span> + in!"</p> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page239" + id="page239"></a>[pg 239]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:100%;"> + <a href="images/239.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/239.png" + alt="FOOTBALL FEVER. SATURDAY AFTERNOON IN THE MIDLANDS." /> + </a> + + <h3>FOOTBALL FEVER. SATURDAY AFTERNOON IN THE + MIDLANDS.</h3> + </div> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page240" + id="page240"></a>[pg 240]</span> + + <h2>TO "THE LAZY MINSTREL"</h2> + + <blockquote class="note"> + <p><i>On the publication of his Eighth Edition, with + therein Nineteen Poems originally written for Mr. + Punch.</i></p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:35%;"> + <a href="images/240-1.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/240-1.png" + alt="The Lazy Laureate of the Thames." /></a>The Lazy + Laureate of the Thames. + </div> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Who would not be a Minstrel Lazy?</p> + + <p class="i4">A trifle crazy,</p> + + <p class="i2">The best of them! Ah!</p> + + <p>Here's <span class="sc">Ashby Sterry</span>, in punt + or wherry,</p> + + <p>He's ever merry! sing "hey down derry,"</p> + + <p class="i4">Or anything very</p> + + <p class="i2">Like Tra! la! la! la!</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>On sunny days he trolls his lays</p> + + <p>With gay guitar and Tra! la! la! la!</p> + + <p>From groves and glades come meadow-sweet maids,</p> + + <p>None of your saucy minxes or jades;</p> + + <p class="i4">The poet is there</p> + + <p class="i4">Without a care.</p> + + <p>With no regret, with mild cigarette.</p> + + <p>With gay guitar, and whiskey from Leith,</p> + + <p>Will he be crowned with the Laureate wreath?</p> + </div> + </div> + + <center> + (<i>The Nymph Pantalettina is heard singing</i>.) + </center> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i2">Come where my + <span class="sc">Ashby</span> lies dreaming,</p> + + <p class="i4">Dreaming for hours after lunch.</p> + + <p class="i2">Softly! for he is scheming</p> + + <p class="i4">Poems for <i>Mister Punch</i>!</p> + + <p class="i2">Graceful is his position—</p> + + <p class="i4">Hark! how he sweeps the strings,</p> + + <p class="i2">While of his Eighth Edition</p> + + <p class="i4">The Warbler + <span class="sc">Sterry</span> sings:—</p> + </div> + </div> + + <center> + (<i>The Bard chirpeth his roundelay</i>.) + </center> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"On 'Spring's Delights' in 'Hambledon Lock'</p> + + <p class="i2">'My Country Cousin' may hap—</p> + + <p class="i4">With her I'll go</p> + + <p class="i4">'In Rotten Row,'</p> + + <p class="i4">Stop on an 'oss</p> + + <p class="i4">'At Charing-Cross,'</p> + + <p class="i2">For a 'Tam O'Shanter Cap.'</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>No gout? Oh no! But I'm 'Taken in Tow,'</p> + + <p class="i2">And suffering from dejection,</p> + + <p>'Spring Cleaning' I'll use for a pair of old + shoes</p> + + <p class="i2">(Queer rhyme upon reflection),</p> + + <p>'Sound without Sense,' I've no pretence,</p> + + <p class="i2">To write Shakspearian Sonnets.</p> + + <p class="i4">Of her and him,</p> + + <p class="i4">As suits my whim,</p> + + <p>I sing, and I hymn her bonnets!"</p> + </div> + </div> + + <center> + (<i>Chorus of Pantalettina and River Nymphs.</i>) + </center> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i4">So, hail to the Bard so merry,</p> + + <p class="i4">To Lazy Laureate + <span class="sc">Sterry</span>!</p> + + <p>He'll sing of a Lock on the Thames! oh rare!</p> + + <p class="i2">Or hymn a Lock of his Lady's hair.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h2>CONVERSATIONAL HINTS FOR YOUNG SHOOTERS.</h2> + + <p>The subject of Lunch, my dear young friends, has now been + exhausted. We have done, for the time, with poetry, and descend + again to the ordinary prose of every-day shooting. Yet + stay—before we proceed further, there is one matter apart + from the mere details of sport, which may be profitably + considered in this treatise. It is the divine, the delightful + subject of</p> + + <h3>SMOKING.</h3> + + <p>First, I ask, do you know—(1), the man who never + smokes from the night of the 11th of August up to the night of + the 1st of February in the following year, for fear of injuring + his sight and his shooting nerve? (2), the host who forbids all + smoking amongst the guests assembled at his house for a + shooting-party?</p> + + <p>You, naturally enough, reply that you have not the honour of + being acquainted with these severe, but enthusiastic gentlemen. + Nobody does know them. They don't exist. But it is very useful + to affect a sort of second-hand knowledge of these Gorgons of + the weed, as thus:—</p> + + <blockquote> + <p><i>A Party of Guns is walking to the first beat of the + day. Time, say about</i> 10·20 A.M.</p> + </blockquote> + + <div class="drama"> + <p><i>Young Sportsman</i> (<i>who has a pipe in his mouth, + to Second Sportsman, similarly adorned</i>). I always think + the after-breakfast smoke is about the best of the day. + Somehow, tobacco tastes sweeter then than at any other time + of the day.</p> + + <p><i>Second Sp.</i> (<i>puffing vigorously</i>). Yes, it's + first class; but I hold with smoke at most times of the + day, after breakfast, after lunch, after dinner, and in + between.</p> + + <p><i>Young Sp.</i> Well, I don't know. If I try to smoke + when I'm actually shooting, I generally find I've got my + pipe in the gun side of my mouth. I heard of a man the + other day who knocked out three of his best teeth through + bringing up his gun sharp, and forgetting he'd got a pipe + in his mouth. Poor beggar! he was very plucky about it, I + believe; but it made no end of a difference to his + pronunciation till he got a new lot shoved in. Just like + that old Johnnie in the play—Overland something or + other—who lost his false set of teeth on a desert + island, and couldn't make any of the other Johnnies + understand him.</p> + + <p><i>Second Sp.</i> I've never had any difficulty with my + smoking. I always make a habit of carrying my smokes in the + left side of my mouth.</p> + + <p><i>Young Sp.</i> Oh, but you're pretty certain to get + the smoke or the ashes or something, blown slap into your + eyes just as you're going to loose off. No. (<i>With + decision</i>.) I'm off my smoke when the popping + begins.</p> + + <p><i>Second Sp.</i> Don't be too hard on yourself, my boy. + They tell me there are precious few birds in the old + planting this year, so you can treat yourself to a + cigarette when you get there. It never pays to trample on + one's longing for tobacco too much.</p> + + <p><i>Young Sp.</i> No, by Jove. Old + <span class="sc">Reggie Morris</span> told me of a fellow + he met somewhere this year, who goes regularly into + training for shooting. Never touches baccy from August to + February, and limits his drink to three pints a day, and no + whiskeys and sodas. And what's more, he won't let any of + his guests smoke when he's got a shoot on, He's got "No + Smoking" posted up in big letters in every room in the + house. <span class="sc">Reggie</span> said it was awful. He + had to lock his bedroom door, shove the chest-of-drawers + against it, and smoke with his head stuck right up the + chimney. He got a peck of soot, one night, right on the top + of his nut. Now I call that simple rot.</p> + + <p><i>Second Sp.</i> Ah, I've heard of that man. Never met + him though, I'm thankful to say. Let me see what's the + beggar's name? <span class="sc">Jackson</span> or + <span class="sc">Barrett</span>, or + <span class="sc">Pollard</span>, or something like that. + He's got a big place somewhere in Suffolk, or Yorkshire, or + somewhere about there.</p> + + <p><i>Young Sp.</i> Yes, that's the chap, I fancy.</p> + + <p>Now that kind of thing starts you very nicely for the + day. It isn't necessary that either of the sportsmen whose + dialogue has been reported should believe implicitly in the + absolute truth of what he is saying. Observe, neither of + them says that he himself met this man. He merely gets + conversation out of him on the strength of what someone + else has told him. That, you see, is the real trick of the + thing. Don't bind yourself to such a story as being part of + your own personal experience. Work it in on another man's + back. Of course there are exceptions even to this rule. But + this question I shall be able to treat at greater length + when I come to deal with the important subject of "Shooting + Anecdotes."</p> + + <div class="figright" + style="width:30%;"> + <a href="images/240-2.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/240-2.png" + alt="" /></a> + </div> + + <p>Very often you can work up quite a nice little + conversation on cigarettes. Every man believes, as is + well-known, that he possesses the only decent cigarettes in + the country. He either—(1), imports them himself from + Cairo, or (2), he gets his tobacco straight from a firm of + growers somewhere in Syria and makes it into cigarettes + himself; or (3), he thinks Egyptian cigarettes are an + abomination, and only smokes Russians or Americans; or (4), + he knows a man, <span class="sc">Backastopoulo</span> by + name, somewhere in the Ratcliffe Highway, who has + <i>the</i> very best cigarettes you ever tasted. You + wouldn't give two-pence a hundred for any others after + smoking these, he tells you. And, lastly, there is the man + who loathes cigarettes, despises those who smoke them, and + never, smokes anything himself except a special kind of + cigar ornamented with a sort of red and gold garter.</p> + + <p>Out of this conflict of preferences the young shooter + can make capital. By flattering everybody in turn, he can + practically get his smoking gratis, for everyone will be + sure to offer him at least one cigarette, in order to prove + the superiority of his own particular kind. And if the + young shooter, after smoking it, expresses a proper amount + of ecstasy, he is not at all unlikely to have a second + offered to him. Most men are generous with cigarettes. Many + a man I know would far rather give a beggar a cigarette + than a shilling, though the cigarette may have cost, + originally, a penny-halfpenny, or more—a strange and + paradoxical state of affairs.</p> + + <p>Here is a final piece of advice. Admire all + cigarette-cases, and say of each that it's the very best + and prettiest you ever saw. You can have no notion how much + innocent pleasure you will give.</p> + </div> + <hr /> + + <p><font size="+1">☞</font> NOTICE.—Rejected + Communications or Contributions, whether MS., Printed Matter, + Drawings, or Pictures of any description, will in no case be + returned, not even when accompanied by a Stamped and Addressed + Envelope, Cover, or Wrapper. To this rule there will be no + exception..</p> + <hr class="full" /> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, Or The London Charivari, Vol. +103, November 19, 1892, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH *** + +***** This file should be named 15957-h.htm or 15957-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/5/9/5/15957/ + +Produced by Malcolm Farmer, William Flis, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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