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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, Or The London Charivari, VOL. 103,
+November 26, 1892, by Various
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Punch, Or The London Charivari, VOL. 103, November 26, 1892
+
+Author: Various
+
+Editor: Francis Burnand
+
+Release Date: June 3, 2005 [EBook #15973]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Malcolm Farmer, William Flis, and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+PUNCH,
+
+OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
+
+VOL. 103.
+
+
+
+November 26, 1892.
+
+
+
+
+LETTERS TO ABSTRACTIONS.
+
+NO. XVII.--TO FAILURE.
+
+A Philosopher has deigned to address to me a letter. "Sir," writes
+my venerable correspondent, "I have been reading your open letters to
+Abstractions with some interest. You will, however, perhaps permit
+me to observe that amongst those to whom you have written are not a
+few who have no right whatever to be numbered amongst Abstractions.
+Laziness, for instance, and Crookedness, and Irritation--not to
+mention others--how is it possible to say that these are Abstractions?
+They are concrete qualities and nothing else. Forgive me for making
+this correction, and believe me yours, &c. A PLATONIST."--To which I
+merely reply, with all possible respect, "Stuff and nonsense!" I know
+my letters have reached those to whom they were addressed, no single
+one has come back through the Dead-letter Office, and that is enough
+for me. Besides, there are thousands of Abstractions that the mind
+of "A PLATONIST" has never conceived. Somewhere I know, there is an
+abstract Boot, a perfect and ideal combination of all the qualities
+that ever were or will be connected with boots, a grand exemplar
+to which all material boots, more or less, nearly approach; and by
+their likeness to which they are recognised as boots by all who in
+a previous existence have seen the ideal Boot. Sandals, mocassins,
+butcher-boots, jack-boots, these are but emanations from the great
+original. Similarly, there must be an abstract Dog, to the likeness of
+which, in one respect or another, both the Yorkshire Terrier and the
+St. Bernard conform. So much then for "A PLATONIST." And now to the
+matter in hand.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+My dear FAILURE, there exists amongst us, as, indeed, there has
+always existed, an innumerable body of those upon whom you have cast
+your melancholy blight. Amongst their friends and acquaintances they
+are known by the name you yourself bear. They are the great army of
+failures. But there must be no mistake. Because a man has had high
+aspirations, has tried with all the energy of his body and soul to
+realise them, and has, in the end, fallen short of his exalted aim,
+he is not, therefore, to be called a failure. MOSES, I may remind you,
+was suffered only to look upon the Promised Land from a mountain-top.
+Patriots without number--KOSSUTH shall be my example--have fought
+and bled, and have been thrust into exile, only to see their objects
+gained by others in the end. But the final triumph was theirs surely
+almost as much as if they themselves had gained it. On the other hand
+there are those who march from disappointment to disappointment, but
+remain serenely unconscious of it all the time. These are not genuine
+failures. There is CHARSLEY, for instance, journalist, dramatist,
+novelist--Heaven knows what besides. His plays have run, on an
+average, about six nights; his books, published mostly at his own
+expense, are a drug in the market; but the little creature is as vain,
+as proud, and, it must be added, as contented, as though Fame had set
+him, with a blast of her golden trumpet, amongst the mighty Immortals.
+What lot can be happier than his? Secure in his impregnable egotism,
+ramparted about with mighty walls of conceit, he bids defiance to
+attack, and lives an enviable life of self-centred pleasure.
+
+Then, again, there was JOHNNIE TRUEBRIDGE. I do not mean to liken him
+to CHARSLEY, for no more unselfish and kind-hearted being than JOHNNIE
+ever breathed. But was there ever a stone that rolled more constantly
+and gathered less moss? Yet no stroke could subdue his inconquerable
+cheerfulness. Time after time he got his head above the waters;
+time after time, some malignant emissary of fate sent him bubbling
+and gasping down into the depths. He was up again in a moment,
+striving, battling, buffeting. Nothing could make JOHNNIE despair, no
+disappointment could warp the simple straightforward sincerity, the
+loyal and almost childlike honesty of his nature. And if here and
+there, for a short time, fortune seemed to shine upon him, you may be
+sure that there was no single friend whom he did not call upon to bask
+with him in these fleeting rays. And what a glorious laugh he had; not
+a loud guffaw that splits your tympanum and crushes merriment flat,
+but an irrepressible, helpless, irresistible infectious laugh, in
+which his whole body became involved. I have seen a whole roomful of
+strangers rolling on their chairs without in the least knowing why,
+while JOHNNIE, with his head thrown back, his jolly face puckered into
+a thousand wrinkles of hearty delight, and his hands pressed to his
+sides, was shouting with laughter at some joke made, as most of his
+jokes were, at his own expense.
+
+It was during one of his brief intervals of prosperity, at a meet
+of the Ditchington Stag-hounds that I first met JOHNNIE. He was
+beautifully got up. His top-hat shone scarcely less brilliantly than
+his rosy cheeks, his collar was of the stiffest, his white tie was
+folded and pinned with a beautiful accuracy, his black coat fitted
+him like a glove, his leather-breeches were smooth and speckless, and
+his champagne-coloured tops fitted his sturdy little legs as if they
+had been born with him. He was mounted on an enormous chestnut-horse,
+which Anak might have controlled, but which was far above the power
+and weight of JOHNNIE, plucky and determined though he was. Shortly
+after the beginning of the run, while the hounds were checked, I
+noticed a strange, hatless, dishevelled figure, riding furiously round
+and round a field. It was JOHNNIE, whose horse was bolting with him,
+but who was just able to guide it sufficiently to keep it going in
+a circle instead of taking him far over hill and dale. We managed to
+stop him, and I shall never forget how he laughed at his own disasters
+while he was picking up his crop and replacing his hat on his head.
+Not long afterwards, I saw our little Mazeppa crashing, horse and all,
+into the branches of a tree, but in spite of a black eye and a deep
+cut on his cheek, he finished the run--fortunately for him a very
+fast and long one--with imperturbable pluck and with no further
+misadventure. "Nasty cut that," I said to him as we trained back
+together, "you'd better get it properly looked to in town." "Pooh,"
+said JOHNNIE, "it's a mere scratch. Did you see the brute take me into
+the tree? By Jove, it must have been a comic sight!" and with that he
+set off again on another burst of inextinguishable laughter.
+
+About a week after this, the usual crash came. A relative of JOHNNIE
+was in difficulties. JOHNNIE, with his wonted chivalry, came to his
+help with the few thousands that he had lately put by, and, in a day
+or two, he was on his beam-ends once more. And so the story went on.
+Money slipped through his fingers like water--prosperity tweaked
+him by the nose, and fled from him, whilst friends, not a whit more
+deserving, amassed fortunes, and became sleek. But he was never
+daunted. With inexhaustible courage and resource, he set to work again
+to rebuild his shattered edifice, confident that luck would, some day,
+stay with him for good. But it never did. At last he threw in his lot
+with a band of adventurers, who proposed to plant the British flag in
+some hitherto unexplored regions of South or Central Africa. I dined
+with JOHNNIE the evening before he left England. He was in the highest
+spirits. His talk was of rich farms, of immense gold-mines. He was
+off to make his pile, and would then come home, buy an estate in the
+country--he had one in his eye--and live a life of sport, surrounded
+by all the comforts, and by all his friends. And so we parted, never
+to meet again. He was lost while making his way back to the coast with
+a small party, and no trace of him has ever since been discovered.
+But to his friends he has left a memory and an example of invincible
+courage, and unceasing cheerfulness in the face of misfortune, of
+constant helpfulness, and unflinching staunchness. Can it be said that
+such a man was a failure? I don't think so. I must write again. In the
+meantime I remain, as usual,
+
+D.R.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+SIGNS OF THE SEASON.--"_Beauty's Daughters!_" These charming young
+ladies are to be obtained for the small sum of one penny! as for this
+trifling amount,--unless there is a seasonably extra charge,--you
+can purchase the Christmas Number of the _Penny Illustrated_,
+wherein Mr. CLEMENT SCOTT "our dear departed" (on tour round the
+world--"globe-trotting"), leads off with some good verses. Will he be
+chosen Laureate? He is away; and it is characteristic of a truly great
+poet to be "absent." And the Editor, that undefeated story-teller,
+tells one of his best stories in his best style, and gives us a
+delightful picture of Miss ELSIE NORMAN. "Alas! she is another's!
+she never can be mine!" as she is Somebody Elsie's. Success to your
+Beauties, Mr. LATEY, or more correctly, Mr. EARLY-AND-LATEY, as you
+bring out your Christmas Number a good six weeks before Christmas Day.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+MOTTO FOR THE LABOUR COMMISSION.--"The proper study of mankind
+is--MANN!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE NEW EMPLOYMENT.--Being "Unemployed."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: A CABBIN' IT COUNCIL IN NOVEMBER.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+CABBIN' IT COUNCIL.
+
+(IN NOVEMBER.)
+
+_Grand Old Jarvie, loquitur_:--
+
+    O Lud! O Lud! O Lud!
+  (As TOM HOOD cried, apostrophising London),
+    November rules, a reign of rain, fog, mud,
+    And Summer's sun is fled, and Autumn's fun done.
+    Far are the fields M.P.'s have tramped and gunned on!
+  Malwood is far, and far is fair Dalmeny,
+            And Harwarden,
+            Like a garden
+  (To Caucus-mustered crowds) glowing and greeny
+            In soft September,
+  Is distant now, and dull; for 'tis November,
+            And we are in a Fog!
+  Cabbin' it, Council? Ah! each _absent_ Member
+  May be esteemed a vastly lucky dog!
+  The streets are up--of course! No Irish bog
+  Is darker, deeper, dirtier than that hole
+  SP-NC-R is staring into. On my soul,
+  M-RL-Y, we want that light you're seeking, swarming
+  Up that lank lamp-post in a style alarming!
+  Take care, my JOHN, you don't come down a whopper!
+  And you, young R-S-B-RY, if _you_ come a cropper
+  Over that dark, dim pile, where shall _we_ be?
+            Pest! I can hardly see
+  An inch before my nose--not to say clearly.
+  Hold him up, H-RC-RT! He was down then, nearly,
+  Our crook-knee'd "crock." Seems going very queerly,
+  Although so short a time out of the stable.
+  Quiet him, WILLIAM, quiet him!--if you're able.
+  This is no spot for him to fall. I dread
+  The need--just here--of "sitting on his head."
+            Cutting the traces
+  Will leave us dead-lock'd, _here_ of all bad places!
+  Oh, do keep quiet, K-MB-RL-Y! You're twitching
+  My cape again! Mind, ASQ-TH! You'll be pitching
+  Over that barrier, if you are not steady.
+  Fancy us getting in this fix--already!
+  Cabbin' it in a fog is awkward work,
+  Specially for the driver, who can't shirk,
+            When once his "fare" is taken.
+                    I feel shaken.
+  'd rather drive the chariot of the Sun
+            (That's dangerous, but rare fun!)
+                    Like Phaethon,
+  Than play the Jehu in a fog so woful
+            To this confounded "Shoful"!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: REAL PRESENCE OF MIND.
+
+POLICEMAN X 24, DRUNK AND ALMOST INCAPABLE, IS JUST ABLE TO BLOW HIS
+WHISTLE FOR HELP!]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+LADY GAY'S GHOST.
+
+_Mount Street, Berkeley Square._
+
+DEAR MR. PUNCH,
+
+More than a fortnight ago I fled from the London fog, with the result
+that it got thicker than ever about me in the minds of your readers
+and yourself! I determined during my absence to do what many people
+in the world of Art and _Letters_ have done before me, employ a
+"Ghost"--(my _first_ dealings with the supernatural, and probably my
+_last_!). I wired to one of the leading Sporting Journals for their
+most reliable Racing Ghost--he was busy watching _Nunthorpe_--(who is
+only the Ghost of what he was!)--and the Bogie understudy sent to
+me was a Parliamentary Reporter!--(hence the stilted style of the
+letter signed "POMPERSON." Heavens! what a name!)--I had five minutes
+to explain the situation to him before catching the _train de
+luxe_--(Lord ARTHUR had gone on with the luggage)--and I don't
+think he had the ghostliest idea of what I wanted!--the one point he
+grasped, was, that he was to use anonymous names--which he did with
+a vengeance!--My horror on reading his letter was such that I
+dropped all the money I had in my hand on the "red" instead of the
+"black"--and it won!--(I think I shall bring out a system based on
+"fright.")
+
+Of course all my friends thought Lord ARTHUR and I had quarrelled,
+and I was "off" with someone else!--What a fog. This idea being
+confirmed by the following week's letter, which was the well-meant
+but misdirected effort of my friend Lady HARRIETT ENTOUCAS, to whom
+I wired to "do something for me"--(she pretty nearly did for me
+altogether!)--there was nothing for it but to come home--where I
+am--Lord ARTHUR wanted to write you this week, but I thought one
+explanation at a time quite enough--so his shall follow--"if you want
+a thing done, do it yourself!"--so in future I will either be my own
+Ghost or have nothing to do with them! Yours apparitionally,
+
+LADY GAY.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+ALL ROUND THE FAIR.
+
+NO. II.
+
+    INSIDE THE "QUEEN'S GRAND COLLECTION OF MOVING WAXWORKS
+    AND LIONS, AND MUSEUM DEPARTMENT OF FOREIGN WONDERS AND
+    NOVELTIES."
+
+    _The majority of the Public is still outside, listening
+    open-mouthed to a comic dialogue between the Showman and a
+    juvenile and irreverent Nigger. Those who have come in find
+    that, with the exception of some particularly tame-looking
+    murderers' heads in glazed pigeon-holes, a few limp effigies
+    stuck up on rickety ledges, and an elderly Cart-horse in low
+    spirits, there is little to see at present._
+
+_Melia_ (_to JOE, as they inspect the Cart-horse._) This 'ere can't
+never be the live 'orse with five legs, as they said was to be seen
+inside!
+
+_Joe._ Theer ain't no other 'orse in 'ere, and why _shouldn't_ it be
+'im, if that's all?
+
+_Melia._ Well, I don't make out no more'n _four_ legs to'un, nohow,
+myself.
+
+_Joe._ Don't ye be in sech a 'urry, now--the Show ain't _begun_ yet!
+
+[Illustration: "It's quoite tri-ew!"]
+
+    [_The barrel-organ outside blares "God Save the Queen," and
+    more Spectators come stumping down the wooden steps, followed
+    by the Showman._
+
+_Showman._ I shell commence this Exhibition by inviting your
+inspection of the wonderful live 'orse with five legs. (_To
+the depressed Cart-horse._) 'Old up! (_The poor beast lifts his
+off-fore-leg with obvious reluctance, and discloses a very small
+supernumerary hoof concealed behind the fetlock._) Examine it! for
+yourselves--two distinct 'oofs with shoes and nails complete--a
+_great_ novelty!
+
+_Melia._ I don't call that nothen of a leg, _I_ don't--it ain't 'ardly
+a _oof_, even!
+
+_Joe_ (_with phlegm_). That's wheer th' old 'orse gits the larf on ye,
+that is!
+
+_Showman._ We will now pass on to the Exhibition. 'Ere (_indicating
+a pair of lop-sided Orientals in nondescript attire_) we 'ave two
+life-sized models of the Japanese villagers who caused so much
+sensation in London on account o' their peculiar features--you will
+easily reckernise the female by her bein' the ugliest one o' the two.
+(_Compassionate titters from the Spectators._) I will now call your
+attention to a splendid group, taken from English 'Istry, and set in
+motion by powerful machinery, repperesentin' the Parting Interview
+of CHARLES THE FIRST with his fam'ly. (_Rolls up a painted canvas
+curtain, and reveals the Monarch seated, with the Duke of GLOUCESTER
+on his knee, surrounded by OLIVER CROMWELL, and as many Courtiers,
+Guards, and Maids of Honour as can be accommodated in the limited
+space._) I will wind up the machinery and the unfortunate King will be
+seen in the act of bidding his fam'ly ajew for ever in this world.
+
+    [_CHARLES begins to click solemnly and move his head by
+    progressive jerks to the right, while the Little Duke
+    moves his simultaneously to the left, and a Courtier in the
+    background is so affected by the scene that he points with
+    respectful sympathy at nothing; the Spectators do not commit
+    themselves to any comments._
+
+_Showman_ (_concluding a quotation from MARKHAM_). "And the little
+Dook, with the tears a-standin' in 'is heyes, replies, 'I will be tore
+in pieces fust!'" Other side, please! No, Mum, the lady in mournin'
+_ain't_ the beautiful but ill-fated MARY, Queen o' Scots--it's Mrs.
+MAYBRICK, now in confinement for poisonin' her 'usban', and the figger
+close to her is the MAHDI, or False Prophet. In the next case we
+'ave a subject selected from Ancient Roman 'Istry, bein' the story
+of ANDROCLES, the Roman Slave, as he appeared when, escaping from his
+crule owners, he entered a cave and found a lion which persented 'im
+with 'is bleedin' paw. After some 'esitation, ANDROCLES examined the
+paw, as repperesented before you. (_Winds the machinery up, whereupon
+the lion opens his lower jaw and emits a mild bleat, while ANDROCLES
+turns his head from side to side in bland surprise._) This lion is
+the largest forestbred and blackmaned specimen ever imported into
+this country--the _other_ lion standing beyind (_disparagingly_), has
+nothing whatever to do with the tableau, 'aving been shot recently in
+Africa by Mr. STANLEY, the two figgers at the side repperesent the
+Boy Murderers who killed their own father at Crewe with a 'atchet and
+other 'orrible barbarities. I shall conclude the Collection by showing
+you the magnificent group repperesentin' Her Gracious Majisty the
+QUEEN, as she appeared in 'er 'appier and younger days, surrounded by
+the late Mr. SPURGEON, the 'Eroes of the Soudan, and other Members of
+the Royal Fam'ly.
+
+INSIDE THE CIRCUS.
+
+    _After some tight-rope, juggling, and boneless performances
+    have been given in the very limited arena, the Clown has
+    introduced the Learned Pony._
+
+_Clown._ Now, little Pony, go round the Company and pick me out the
+little boy as robs the Farmer's orchard.
+
+    [_The Pony trots round, and thrusts his nose confidently into
+    a Small Boy's face._
+
+_Small Boy_ (_indignantly_). Ye're a _liar_, Powney; so theer!
+
+_Clown._ Now, see if you can find me the little gal as steals her
+mother's jam and sugar. Look sharp now, don't stand there playin' with
+yer bit!
+
+_A Little Girl_ (_penitently, as the Accusing Quadruped halts in front
+of her_). Oh, please, Pony, I won't never do it no more!
+
+_Clown._ Now go round and pick me out the Young Man as is fond o'
+kissin' the girls and married ladies when their 'usbands is out o' the
+way. (_The Pony stops before an Infant in Arms._) 'Ere, think what
+yer _doin'_ now. You don't mean _'im_, do you? (_The Pony shakes his
+head._) Is it the Young Man standin' just beyind as is fond o' kissin
+the girls? (_The Pony nods._) Ah, I thought so!
+
+_The Rustic Lothario_ (_with a broad grin_). It's quoite tri-ew!
+
+_Clown._ Now I want you, little Pony, to go round and tell me who's
+the biggest rogue in the company. (_Reassuringly, as the Pony goes
+round, and a certain uneasiness is perceptible among some of the
+spectators_). I 'ope no Gentleman 'ere will be offended by
+bein' singled out, for no offence is intended,--it is merely a
+'armless--(_Finds the Pony at his elbow._) Why, you rascal! do you
+mean to say _I'm_ the biggest rogue 'ere? (_The Pony nods._) You've
+been round, and can't find a bigger rogue than me in all this company?
+(_Emphatic shake of the head from Pony; secret relief of inner circle
+of Spectators._) You and me'll settle this later!
+
+_First Spectator_ (_as audience disperses_). That war a clever Pony,
+sart'nly!
+
+_Second Spect._ Ah, he wur that. (_Reflectively._) I dunno as I shud
+keer partickler 'bout _'avin_ of 'im, though!
+
+IN THE HOME OF MYSTERY.
+
+    _A small canvas booth with a raised platform, on which a Young
+    Woman in short skirts has just performed a few elementary
+    conjuring tricks before an audience of gaping Rustics._
+
+_The Showman._ The Second Part of our Entertainment will consist
+of the performances of a Real Live Zulu from the Westminster Royal
+Aquarium. Mr. FARINI, in the course of 'is travels, discovered both
+men and women--and this is one of them. (_Here a tall Zulu, simply
+attired in a leopard's-skin apron, a bead necklace, and an old busby,
+creeps through the hangings at the back._) He will give you a specimen
+of the strange and remarkable dances in his country, showin' you the
+funny way in which they git married--for they don't git married over
+there the same as we do 'ere--cert'n'ly _not_! (_The Spectators form a
+close ring round the Zulu._) Give him a little more room, or else you
+won't notice the funny way he moves his legs while dancin'.
+
+    [_The ring widens a very little, and contracts again, while
+    the Zulu performs a perfunctory prance to the monotonous
+    jingle of his brass anklets._
+
+_Melia_ (_critically_). Well, that's the silliest sort of a weddin' as
+iver _I_ see!
+
+_Joe._ He do seem to be 'avin' it a good deal to 'isself, don't 'e?
+
+_Showman._ He will now conclude 'is entertainment by porsin round,
+and those who would like to shake 'ands with 'im are welcome to do so,
+while at the same time, those among you who would like to give 'im a
+extry copper for 'isself you will 'ave an opportunity of noticin' the
+funny way in which he takes it.
+
+_Spectators_ (_as the Zulu begins to slink round the tent, extending a
+huge and tawny paw_). 'Ere, _come_ arn!
+
+    [_The booth is precipitately cleared._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"_WRITE Letter Days_" should be the companion volume to _Red Letter
+Days_, published by BENTLEY.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: THAT IT SHOULD COME TO THIS!
+
+_Boy._ "SECOND-CLASS, SIR?"
+
+_Captain._ "I NEVAH TRAVEL SECOND-CLASS!"
+
+_Boy._ "THIS WAY THIRD, SIR!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+CONVERSATIONAL HINTS FOR YOUNG SHOOTERS.
+
+THE SMOKING-ROOM.
+
+The subject of the Smoking-room would seem to be intimately and
+necessarily connected with the subject of smoke, which was dealt with
+in our last Chapter. A very good friend of mine, Captain SHABRACK of
+the 55th (Queen ELIZABETH'S Own) Hussars, was good enough to favour
+me with his views the other day. I met the gallant officer, who is,
+as all the world knows, one of the safest and best shots of the day,
+in Pall Mall. He had just stepped out of his Club--the luxurious
+and splendid Tatterdemalion, or, as it is familiarly called, "the
+Tat"--where, to use his own graphic language, he had been "killing the
+worm with a nip of Scotch."
+
+"Early Scotch woodcock, I suppose," says I, sportively alluding to the
+proverb.
+
+"Scotch woodcock be blowed," says the Captain, who, it must be
+confessed, does not include an appreciation of delicate humour amongst
+his numerous merits; "Scotch, real Scotch, a noggin of it, my boy,
+with soda in a long glass; glug, glug, down it goes, hissin' over the
+hot coppers. You know the trick, my son, it's no use pretendin' you
+don't"--and thereupon the high-spirited warrior dug me good-humouredly
+in the ribs, and winked at me with an eye which, if the truth must be
+told, was bloodshot to the very verge of ferocity.
+
+"Talkin' of woodcock," he continued--we were now walking along Pall
+Mall together--"they tell me you're writin' some gas or other about
+shootin'. Well, if you want a tip from me, just you let into the
+smokin' room shots a bit; you know the sort I mean, fellows who are
+reg'lar devils at killin' birds when they haven't got a gun in their
+hands. Why, there's that little son of a corn-crake, FLICKERS--when
+once he gets talkin' in a smokin' room nothing can hold him. He'd talk
+the hind leg off a donkey. I know he jolly nearly laid me out the
+last time I met him with all his talk--No, you don't," continued the
+Captain, imagining, perhaps, that I was going to rally him on his
+implied connection of himself with the three-legged animal he had
+mentioned, "no you don't--it wouldn't be funny; and besides, I'm not
+donkey enough to stand much of that ass FLICKERS. So just you pitch
+into him, and the rest of 'em, my bonny boy, next time you put pen
+to paper." At this moment my cheerful friend observed a hansom that
+took his fancy. "Gad!" he said, "I never can resist one of those
+india-rubber tires. Ta, ta, old cock--keep your pecker up. Never
+forget your goloshes when it rains, and always wear flannel next your
+skin," and, with that, he sprang into his hansom, ordered the cabman
+to drive him round the town as long as a florin would last, and was
+gone.
+
+Had the Captain only stayed with me a little longer, I should have
+thanked him for his hint, which set me thinking. I know FLICKERS well.
+Many a time have I heard that notorious romancer holding forth on
+his achievements in sport, and love, and society. I have caught him
+tripping, convicted him of imagination on a score of occasions; dozens
+of his acquaintances must have found him out over and over again; but
+the fellow sails on, unconscious of a reverse, with a sort of smiling
+persistence, down the stream of modified untruthfulness, of which
+nobody ought to know better than FLICKERS the rapids, and shallows,
+and rocks on which the mariner's bark is apt to go to wreck. What
+is there in the pursuit of sport, I ask myself, that brings on this
+strange tendency to exaggeration? How few escape it. The excellent,
+the prosaic DUBSON, that broad-shouldered, whiskered, and eminently
+snub-nosed Nimrod, he too, gives way occasionally. FLICKERS'S, I own,
+is an extreme case. He has indulged himself in fibs to such an extent,
+that fibs are now as necessary to him as drams to the drunkard. But
+DUBSON the respectable, DUBSON the dull, DUBSON the unromantic--why
+does the gadfly sting him too, and impel him now and then to wonderful
+antics. For was it not DUBSON who told me, only a week ago, that he
+had shot three partridges stone dead with one shot, and in measuring
+the distance, had found it to be 100 yards less two inches? Candidly,
+I do not believe him; but naturally enough I was not going to be
+outdone, and I promptly returned on him with my well-known anecdote
+about the shot which _ricocheted_ from a driven bird in front of me
+and pierced my host's youngest brother--a plump, short-coated Eton
+boy, who was for some reason standing with his back to me ten yards in
+my rear--in a part of his person sacred as a rule _plagoso Orbilio_.
+The shrieks of the stricken youth, I told DUBSON, still sounded
+horribly in my ears. It took the country doctor an hour to extract
+the pellets--an operation which the boy endured, with great fortitude,
+merely observing that he hoped his rowing would not be spoiled for
+good, as he should bar awfully having to turn himself into a dry-bob.
+This story, with all its harrowing details, did I duly hammer into the
+open-mouthed DUBSON, who merely remarked that "it was a rum go, but
+you can never tell where a _ricochet_ will go," and was beginning upon
+me with a brand-new _ricochet_ anecdote of his own, when I hurriedly
+departed.
+
+Wherefore, my gay young shooters, you who week by week suck wisdom and
+conversational ability from these columns, it is borne in upon me that
+for your benefit I must treat of the Smoking-room in its connection
+with shooting-parties. Thus, perhaps, you may learn not so much what
+you ought to say, as what you ought not to say, and your discretion
+shall be the admiration of a whole country-side. "The Smoking-room:
+with which is incorporated 'Anecdotes.'" What a rollicking, cheerful,
+after-dinner sound there is about it. SHABRACK might say it was
+like the title of a cheap weekly, which as a matter of fact, it does
+resemble. But what of that? Next week we will begin upon it in good
+earnest.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+ON THE BOXING KANGAROO.
+
+  From SMITH and MITCHELL to a Kangaroo!!!
+    The "noble art" _is_ going up! Whilloo!
+  Stay, though! Since pugilist-man seems coward-clown,
+  Perhaps 'tis the Marsupial coming down!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: FELINE AMENITIES.
+
+"I'VE BROUGHT YOU SOME LACE FOR YOUR STALL AT THE BAZAAR, LIZZIE. I'M
+AFRAID IT'S NOT QUITE OLD ENOUGH TO BE _REALLY_ VALUABLE. I HAD IT
+WHEN I WAS A LITTLE GIRL."
+
+"OH, _THAT'S_ OLD ENOUGH FOR _ANYTHING_, DEAREST! HOW LOVELY! THANKS
+SO _VERY_ MUCH!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"LE GRAND FRANCAIS."
+
+    ["With all his faults, M. DE LESSEPS is perhaps the most
+    remarkable--we may even say the most illustrious--of living
+    Frenchmen."--_The Times_.]
+
+  JACQUES BONHOMME _loquitur_:--
+
+  _Someone_ should suffer--yes, of course--
+    For the depletion of my stocking;
+  But _Le Grand Francais_? Bah! Remorse
+    Moves me to tears. It seems too shocking.
+  Get back my money? _Pas de chance_!
+  And then he is the pride of France!
+
+  I raged, I know, four years ago,
+    Against those Panama projectors.
+  The law seemed slack, inquiry slow;
+    How I denounced them, the Directors,
+  Including _him_--in some vague fashion;
+  But then--BONHOMME was in a passion!
+
+  And now to see the _gendarme's_ hand--
+    Half-shrinkingly--upon _his_ shoulder,
+  Our _Grand Francais_--_so_ old, _so_ grand!
+    _Ma foi_, it palsies the beholder.
+  And will it lessen my large loss
+  To fix a stain on the Grand Cross?
+
+  Too sanguine? Too seductive? Yes!
+    But was it not such hopeful charming
+  That led him to his old success?
+    The thought is softening, and disarming;
+  O'er Suez and the Red Sea glance,
+  And see what he has done for France!
+
+  _Peste_ on this Panama affair!
+    Egyptian sands sucked not our savings
+  As did those swamps. Still I can't bear
+    To see _him_ suffer. 'Midst my cravings
+  For _la revanche_, I'd fain not touch
+  Our Greatest Frenchman--'tis too much!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+SHORT AND SWEET.
+
+    ["The Young Ladies of Nottingham have formed a Short-skirt
+    League."--_Daily Graphic_.]
+
+  Ye pretty girls of England,
+    So famous for your looks,
+  Whose sense has braved a thousand fads
+    Of foolish fashion-books,
+  Your glorious standard launch again
+    To match another foe,
+            And refrain
+            From the train
+    While the stormy tempests blow,
+  While the sodden streets are thick with mud,
+    And the stormy tempests blow!
+
+  See how the girls of Nottingham
+    Inaugurate a League
+  For skirts five inches from the ground;
+    They'll walk without fatigue,
+  No longer plagued with trains to lift
+    Above the slush or snow;
+            They'll not sweep
+            Mud that's deep
+    While the stormy tempests blow;
+  Long dresses do the Vestry's work,
+    While stormy tempests blow.
+
+  O pretty girls of Nottingham,
+    If you could save us men
+  From our frightful clothing,
+    How we should love you then!
+  We'd shorten turned-up trouser,
+    And widen pointed toe,
+            Leave off that
+            Vile silk hat,
+    When the stormy tempests blow--
+  Wretched hat that stands not wind or rain
+    When the stormy tempests blow.
+
+  We're fools. Yet, girls of England,
+    We might inquire of you,
+  Why wear those capes and sleeves that seem
+    Quite wide enough for two?
+  And why revive the _chignons_--
+    Huge lumps pinned on? You know
+            You would cry
+            Should they fly
+    Where the stormy tempests blow;
+  For they catch the wind just like balloons,
+    Where the stormy tempests blow.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+FAULTS O' BOTH SIDES.--Ardent Radicals grumbled at the Government
+for not holding an Autumn Session. That was a fault of omission. Now
+touchy Tories are angry with it for showing too strong a tendency to
+what Mr. GLADSTONE once sarcastically called "a policy of examination
+and inquiry"--into the case of Evicted Tenants, Poor-Law Relief,
+&c. This is a fault of (Royal) Commission. Luckless Government! The
+verdict upon it seems to be that it
+
+  "Does nothing in particular,
+  And does it very--_ill_."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+NOTICE.--The Twin Fountains of Trafalgar Square regret to inform the
+British Public that, although they have performed gratuitously and
+continuously for a number of years, they are compelled to retire from
+business, as they cannot compete with the State-aided spouting which
+takes place in their Square.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A GREAT "TREAT."--Public-house Politics at Election time.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: "LE GRAND FRANCAIS!"
+
+JACQUES BONHOMME (_regarding_ M. DE LESSEPS, _apart_). "BAH! I HAVE
+LOST MY MONEY! (_Pause._) ALL THE SAME, I CANNOT DESIRE THAT HE, SO
+OLD AND SO DISTINGUISHED, SHOULD SUFFER!!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: GALLANTRY REWARDED.
+
+_Lady_ (_having had a fall at a Brook, and come out the wrong
+side,--to Stranger, who has caught her Horse_). "OH, I'M _SO_ MUCH
+OBLIGED TO YOU! NOW, DO YOU MIND JUST BRINGING HIM OVER?"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.
+
+Books from the publishing house of FISHER UNWIN are always goodly to
+look upon, the public having to thank him for something new in form,
+binding, and colour, in other series than the Pseudonym Library. In a
+new edition of _The Sinner's Comedy_, just issued at the modest price
+of Eighteenpence, he has solved a problem that has long baffled the
+publisher, and bothered the public. Few like the appearance of a book
+with the pages machine-cut; fewer still can spare the time to cut a
+book. Mr. FISHER UNWIN compromises by presenting this dainty little
+volume with the top pages ready cut, the reader having nothing to
+do but to slice the side-pages, a labour which no book-lover would
+grudge, seeing that it leaves the volume with the uncut appearance
+dear to his heart. The story, told in 146 pages, is, my Baronite says,
+worthy the distinction of its appearance. The characters are clearly
+drawn, the plot is interesting, the conversation crisp, and the style
+throughout pleasantly cynical. The author, JOHN OLIVER HOBBES, has a
+pretty turn of aphorism. "A man's way of loving is so different from
+a woman's"; and again, "Genius is so rare, and ambition is so common."
+Here be truths, old enough perhaps, but cleverly re-set.
+
+Some people complain that politics are dull. They should read the
+parliamentary and extra-parliamentary utterances of the Member for
+Wrottenborough. They appear weekly in that rising young paper, the
+_Sunday Times_, and an extremely readable selection of them has lately
+been published "in book form," for the enlivening of the Recess.
+Adapting the Laureate's lines, the Baron would say,--
+
+  "They who would vote for an M.P. whose sense with humour chimes,
+  Will read the Member for Wrottenborough, all in the _Sunday Times_--
+  A paper our sires paid Sevenpence for, along of its grit and go,
+      Seventy years ago, my Public, seventy years ago!"
+
+For whimsical audacity, and quaint unexpectedness. Mr. PAIN, in his
+latest book, _Playthings and Parodies_, would be hard to beat. In this
+there is a good back-ground of shrewd observation. He does not
+propose to make your flesh creep, or your eyes run torrents. He simply
+succeeds in making you laugh. In "The Processional Instinct," Mr. PAIN
+informs us that he has discovered that our private life is circular,
+and our public life is rectilineal. SHAKSPEARE, who, being for all
+time, and not merely for an age, recommends this author to the general
+public when he says that everybody "should be so conversant with
+PAIN."
+
+_The Memories of Dean Hole_ is rather a misleading title; "but," says
+the Baron, "I suppose the term 'Reminiscences' is played out. The word
+'Memories' seems to suggest that someone, whether Dean HOLE, or Dean
+CORNER, or any other Dean, had more than one memory, as indeed those
+persons appear to possess who mention their 'good memory for names,'
+and their 'bad memory for dates,' and _vice versa_. _Soit!_" quoth
+the Baron, in excellent French, "you may take it from me (if I'll part
+with it) that the Hole book is by no means a half-and-half sort of
+book, but is vastly entertaining." The stories of "The Cloth" form the
+most entertaining part of the work. The Baron wishes success to this
+work of the Dean in Holey Orders, and suggests that the volume should
+be re-entitled _Gathered Leaves from Dean Hole's Rose Garden_, a
+better title than "Reminiscences."
+
+MARION CRAWFORD'S _Don Orsino_ (published by MACMILLAN & CO.) would
+be worth reading were it only for the colour of its word-painting,
+and for its high-comedy dialogue. Yet is Mr. CRAWFORD rather given
+to pause in his story, for the sake of moralising on the tendencies
+of the age; and the reader, patient though he may be, when he has
+become interested in the personages of the novel, does not care to be
+button-holed by a digression. MARION CRAWFORD'S recipe for commencing
+an amorous duologue (early in Vol. III.), which is to lead up to a
+declaration of love, is deliciously ingenious. It begins with the
+gentleman taking a seat, and his first remark is upon the chair. Mr.
+CRAWFORD evidently remembers the old story of how the tenor who knew
+but one song, "_In my Cottage near a Wood_," used to introduce it into
+any scene of any Opera by the simple process of making his entrance
+alone and finding a chair on the stage. "Aha!" quoth he. "What's this?
+A chair? and made of wood! Ah! that word! how it reminds me of my
+'umble home, 'my cottage near a wood.'" Cue for band; chord; song.
+In this instance, the love-scene, admirably led up to on the above
+plan, is strikingly powerful; it is the work of a master-hand. The
+_denoument_ is both artistically original and, at the same time,
+ordinarily probable. May all readers enjoy this excellent novel as
+much as has the sympathetic
+
+BARON DE BOOK-WORMS.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+CLASSICAL QUESTION.--If some schoolboys, home for Christmas holidays,
+wanted Sir AUGUSTUS DRURIOLANUS to give them a Christmas Box (not a
+private one at the Pantomime), what Ancient Philosopher would they
+mention? Why--of course--"ARISTIPPUS."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: A LABOUR OF LOVE.
+
+_The Vicar._ "AND WERE YOU AT THE BALL LAST NIGHT, MRS. RAMSBOTTOM?"
+
+_Mrs. R._ "OH, YES; I WAS SHAMPOOING EIGHT YOUNG LADIES THERE!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+LOCAL COLOUR.
+
+Mr. ALFRED AUSTIN, in his new poem, _Fortunatus, the Pessimist_, has
+hit upon a new notion, to say nothing of a novel rhyme. Sings he:--
+
+  "When the foal and brood-mare hinny,
+  And in every cut-down spinney
+  Lady's-Smocks grow _mauve and mauver_,
+  Then the Winter days are over."
+
+This opens a polychromatic vista to the New Poetry. Technical Art
+comes to the aid of the elder Muses. The products of gas-tar alone
+should greatly regenerate a something time-worn poetic phraseology. As
+thus:--
+
+  When the poet, Mr. PENNYLINE,
+  Is inspired by beauteous Aniline,
+  Products chemical and gas-tarry
+  Give the modern Muse new mastery.
+  Mauve _may_ chime with love, and mauver
+  Form a decent rhyme to lover;
+  While (and if not, why not?) _mauvest_
+  Antiphonetic proves to lovest.
+  (Verse erotic always sports
+  Tricksily with longs and shorts.
+  Verbal votaries of Venus
+  Are an arbitrary genus,
+  And as arrogant as HOWELLS
+  In their dealings with the vowels.
+  _Love, move, rove_, linked in a sonnet,
+  Pass for rhymes; the best have done it!)
+  Then again there is Magenta!
+  Surely science never sent a
+  Handier rhyme to--well, polenta,
+  Or (for Cockney Muses) Mentor!
+  The poetic sense auricular
+  Can't afford to be particular.
+  Rags of rhymes, mere assonances,
+  Now must serve. Pegasus prances,
+  Like a Buffalo Bill buck-jumper,
+  When you have a "regular stumper"
+  (Such as "silver") do not care about
+  Perfect rhyming; "there or thereabout"
+  Is the Muse's maxim now.
+  You _may_ get (bards have, I trow)
+  Rhyme's last minimum irreducible,
+  From dye-vat, retort, or crucible.
+
+Verily (as _Touchstone_ says), "I'll rhyme you so, eight years
+together, dinners and suppers, and sleeping hours excepted." And if it
+is "the right butterwoman's rate to market," or "the very false gallop
+of verses," it is at any rate good enough for a long-eared public or a
+postulant for the Laureateship.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+WAR ON A LARGE SCALE.
+
+(_AN ACCOUNT OF THE CONFLICT, FROM THE DIARY OF AN INHABITANT OF HERNE
+BAY._)
+
+_Monday._--Extremely awkward--the entire British Fleet have come
+ashore; and, as it is impossible to move them on account of their
+enormous tonnage, this will entail a loss of L24,000,000,000!
+
+_Tuesday._--Troubles never come singly! The French, taking advantage
+of the temporary suspension of our naval operations, have declared
+war. This means the utter ruin of the bathing season, not only at
+Herne Bay, but Southend, and the Isle of Thanet.
+
+_Wednesday._--As I expected! The French Fleet are coming up towards
+London. They are sure to pepper us as they pass. As every gun carries
+several hundred miles, I do not see how books can be uninterruptedly
+issued from and returned to the Circulating Library.
+
+_Thursday._--Our first slice of luck! The entire French Fleet during
+the mist last night came into collision with the Nore Light, and sank
+immediately. I was surprised at their sparing the Reculvers and the
+local bathing-machines, but now the mystery is explained.
+
+_Friday._--Just learned that the great gun of Paris, which carries
+forty-four thousand miles, is to be tried for the first time
+to-morrow. It would have been used earlier, had it not been necessary
+to raise a foreign loan to supply funds to load it. Trust it won't
+be laid in our direction. This war has already caused the Insurance
+Companies to double their charges! Too bad!
+
+_Saturday._--All's well that ends well. Hostilities are at an end.
+This morning all the glass in the windows were broken at 8 o'clock.
+Ten minutes later the Champs Elysees was deposited half a mile from
+Birchington. We now know that the great Paris gun burst on its
+first discharge, and France exists no longer as a country, but as a
+"geographical expression" is deposited in various parts of Europe.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+REAL AND IDEAL.--"A Really Hard-Headed Man"--the Iron-skulled
+individual now exhibiting at the Aquarium. If his will is as iron
+as his head, what a despot he would be! If France is tired of her
+Republic, she might try the Iron-Headed Man as a ruler. There is the
+chance, of course, that he might turn out a numskull, and be only King
+Log, after all.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: A GENTLEMAN WHO "TAKES LIFE EASILY."]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: A REMINISCENCE OF THE BASEBALL SEASON.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+JIM'S JOTTINGS.
+
+    ["Do the poor make the slums, or the slums make the
+    poor?"--_Henry Lazarus, in "Landlordism."_]
+
+[Illustration]
+
+  Is it the poor wot makes the Slums, or the Slums wot makes the poor?
+  Well, that's the question, Guv'nor, and I've 'eared it arsked afore,
+  And the arnser ain't so easy, if you wants to be O.K.
+  Don't suppose as _I_ can settle it, but I'll have my little say.
+
+  My old friend Mister LAZARUS, now, he ups and sez, sez he,
+  The great Ground Landlord is the great _prime_ cause. "Yah!
+          fiddlededee!"
+  Cries the House-Farmer; "Slums is Slums, acos the Poor is _Pigs_!"
+  "You try 'em, friend philanthropist! They'll play you proper rigs."
+
+  Yus, there's two sides to heverythink, wus luck! That's where
+          we're fogged.
+  Passiges like foul pigstyes, gents, and backyards like black bogs,
+  Banisters broke for firewood, and smashed winders stuffed with rags,
+  These make the sniffers slate the poor, Perticular if they're wags.
+
+  Well, gents, you know, it's _this_ way. Just you fancy yerselves
+          _born_
+  In a back-slum like Ragman's Rents. 'Old 'ard, don't larf with
+          scorn!
+  Some on us _is_ born there, yer know; it might ha' bin _your_ luck,
+  _If_ yer mother'd bin a boozer, and yer father'd got the chuck.
+
+  Of course _yourn_ was respectable; _mine_ wosn't; there's the diff.!
+  Ah! things like this ain't settled by a snort or by a sniff.
+  Jest fancy hopening yer eyes fust time in a dark dive,
+  Or a sky-parlour where a plarnt o' musk won't keep alive.
+
+  Emagine, if yer washups can, some ten foot square o' room,
+  With a stror-heap in one corner, and a "dip" to light the gloom;
+  With the walls dirt-streaked with damp-lines, outside, a drunken
+          din,
+  And hinside, a whiff of sewer-gas in a hatmosphere of gin.
+
+  Some on you carn't emagine there's sech 'orrors on the earth;
+  But there are, you bet your buttons. Who'd select 'em for their
+          _birth_?
+  Not you, not me, not no one, if you asked 'em, I expect;
+  But yer place o' birth yer see, gents' jest the thing yer _carn't_
+          select.
+
+  If you're born where streets is narrer, and where rooms is werry
+          small,
+  Where you've damp sludge for a ceiling, rotting plarster for a wall;
+  Where yer carn't eat, sleep, wash yerselves, or lay up when you're
+          sick,
+  Without tumbling one o'er tother, wy, yer _sinks_, gents, pooty
+          quick.
+
+  _Sinks!_ Yes, when wot yer lives in _is_ a sink, or somethink wus;
+  With a drunkard for a mother, and some neighbour for a nuss;
+  With the gutter for yer playground, and a 'ome from which yer
+          shrink,
+  Can you wonder that poor Slum-birds is give o'er to Dirt and Drink.
+
+  Ah! them two D's goes together. Just you plant some orty Queen
+  In a rookery, in her kidhood, and then tell her to keep _clean_,
+  Wash 'er face, and mend 'er garments,--wich they're mostly
+          sewed-up rags,--
+  In six months she'd be a scare-crow, 'ands like sut, and 'air all
+          jags.
+
+  Wot yer washups don't quite tumble to's the fack as like breeds
+          like.
+  If you would himprove Slum-dwellers, at the Slum you fust must
+          strike.
+  Give us small dark 'oles to dwell in, and you must be jolly green
+  If you think folks bred in dirt like, are a-going to keep 'em clean.
+
+  When the sewer-rats take to sweetening and lime-washing _their_
+          foul 'oles,
+  And bright light and disinfectants are the fads of skunks and moles,
+  Then poor souls in cellar-dwellings and in jerry-builders' dens,
+  Will be smart as young canaries and as clean as clucking hens.
+
+  NOCKY SPRIGGINGS guyed me proper, in his chuckly sorter style,
+  With his thumb 'ooked orful hartful, and his chickaleary smile.
+  "JIM," sez he, "wot price _your_ jabber? Do yer think the blooming
+          blokes
+  Cares a cuss for me and you, JIM, any more than for our mokes?
+
+  "Shut yer face, you pattering josser! Dirt and Drink is good for
+          Rents!
+  If the Poor _wos_ clean and sober, where 'ud be their
+          cent-per-cents?
+  If it's Public 'Ouse 'gainst Wash 'Ouse, if it's Slumland _wersus_
+          Swipes,
+  _I_ am on for booze and backy 'stead o' drains and water-pipes.
+
+  "You may be _too_ jolly clean, JIM, and a precious sight _too_
+          light,
+  Were's the good to scrub yer skin orf! And if when a cove gits
+          tight,
+  Or would give his donah wot-for on the Q.T. _wot_ a lark
+  If there weren't no 'andy alleys, nor no corners snug and _dark_.
+
+  "If the Public--_and_ the Slops--wos always fly to wot _we_ done,
+  'Long o' widened streets and gas-light, wy we'd 'ave no blooming
+          fun.
+  Lagged for larrupping yer missus, nailed for boozing till yer nod?
+  Wy, you jabbering young Juggins, _we should always be in quod!_"
+
+  'Ard nut is NOCKY SPRIGGINGS--of the sort as make the slums,
+  'Cos there ain't much chance for cleanness, or for comfort, when
+          _he_ comes.
+  He's as 'appy in the dirt, gents, as a blowfly or a 'og;
+  Or poor Paddy in his tater-patch alongside of a bog;
+
+  He'd chop up 'is doors and winders for a fire to 'ot his lush,
+  Don't care a 'ang for decency, and never raised a blush.
+  But, arter my hexperience--and I've 'ad some down our court--
+  I believe that--fair at bottom--it's the Slum as makes _his_ sort.
+
+  Anyways I'm pooty certain, if we'd got more light and space,
+  And were not jammed up together in a filthy, ill-drained place;
+  If the sunlight could but see us, and the public _and_ the cops,
+  There would be less booze and bashing, fewer drabs and
+          drinking-shops.
+
+  Aye, and fewer NOCKY SPRIGGINGSES! I don't go for to say
+  As it's _all_ along o' Landlords, who'd rent 'ell, if 'twould but
+          pay;
+  But I've noticed you find fewest mice where there are lots of cats,
+  And where there ain't no rat-holes, well--yer won't spot many rats!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE LAST DISCOVERY.
+
+(_A SEQUEL TO A RECENT LECTURE. BY MR. PUNCH'S PROPHETIC REPORTER._)
+
+The enormous crowd cheered again and again. It was furious. The
+enthusiasm spread from throng to throng, until a mighty chorus
+filled every portion of the land. And there was indeed reason for the
+rejoicing. Had not the great Arctic Explorer come home? Had he not
+been to the North Pole and back? At that very moment were not a couple
+of steam-tugs drawing his wooden vessel towards his native shore?
+It was indeed a moment for congratulation--not only personal but
+national, nay cosmopolitan. The victory of art over nature belonged to
+more than a country, it belonged to the world!
+
+And the tugs came closer and closer, and the cheers grew louder and
+louder. Then the vessel bearing the Explorer was near at hand.
+The crowd joyously jumped into the water, and raising him on their
+shoulders, bore him triumphantly to land.
+
+How they welcomed him! How they seized his hands and kissed them! How
+they cried and called him "Master," and "Victor," and "Hero!" It was a
+scene never to be forgotten!
+
+When the excitement had somewhat subsided, they began to ask him
+questions. At last one of them wished to know how he contrived to find
+the North Pole and get back in safety?
+
+"You intended to drift?" said they. "Great and glorious hero,
+victorious victor, triumphant explorer, did you do this?"
+
+"I did," was the reply.
+
+"And tell us what was your method of obtaining the knowledge you now
+possess? Oh, great chief, how _did_ you manage it?"
+
+Then came the answer--
+
+"By sitting still, and doing nothing!"
+
+And now it being dark, they separated to illuminate their homes in
+honour of the fresh industry--an industry admirably adapted to that
+great and contented class of the community, the Unemployed!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+NOTICE.--Rejected Communications or Contributions, whether MS.,
+Printed Matter, Drawings, or Pictures of any description, will in no
+case be returned, not even when accompanied by a Stamped and Addressed
+Envelope, Cover, or Wrapper. To this rule there will be no exception.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, Or The London Charivari, VOL.
+103, November 26, 1892, by Various
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH ***
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