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diff --git a/20333-h/20333-h.htm b/20333-h/20333-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f5b3e72 --- /dev/null +++ b/20333-h/20333-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1978 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Transitional//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-transitional.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 104, January 28, 1893.</title> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1" /> +<style type="text/css"> + + body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + p {text-align: justify;} + blockquote {text-align: justify;} + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 {text-align: center;} + .sc {font-variant: small-caps;} + .center {text-align: center;} + + hr {text-align: center; width: 50%;} + html>body hr {margin-right: 25%; margin-left: 25%; width: 50%;} + hr.full {width: 100%;} + html>body hr.full {margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 0%; width: 100%;} + hr.short {text-align: center; width: 20%;} + html>body hr.short {margin-right: 40%; margin-left: 40%; width: 20%;} + + .note, .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + + span.pagenum + {position: absolute; left: 1%; right: 91%; font-size: 8pt; text-indent: 0;} + + .poem + {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: left;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem p {margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem p.i2 {margin-left: 1em;} + .poem p.i4 {margin-left: 2em;} + .poem p.i6 {margin-left: 3em;} + .poem p.i8 {margin-left: 4em;} + .poem p.i10 {margin-left: 5em;} + + .drama {margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: left;} + .drama p {margin: 1em 0em 0em 0em;; padding-left: 2em; text-indent: -2em;} + .drama p.i2 {margin: 0; margin-left: 1em;} + .drama p.i4 {margin: 0; margin-left: 2em;} + .drama p.i6 {margin: 0; margin-left: 3em;} + .drama p.i8 {margin: 0; margin-left: 4em;} + .drama p.i10 {margin: 0; margin-left: 5em;} + + .figure, .figcenter, .figright, .figleft + {padding: 1em; margin: 0; text-align: center; font-size: 0.8em;} + .figure img, .figcenter img, .figright img, .figleft img + {border: none;} + .figure p, .figcenter p, .figright p, .figleft p + {margin: 0; text-indent: 1em;} + .figcenter {margin: auto;} + .figright {float: right;} + .figleft {float: left;} + + p.author {text-align: right;} + + </style> +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 104, +January 28, 1893, 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, Volume 104, January 28, 1893 + +Author: Various + +Editor: Francis Burnand + +Release Date: January 11, 2007 [EBook #20333] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, VOL 104, JAN 28, 1893 *** + + + + +Produced by Matt Whittaker, Juliet Sutherland and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<h1>PUNCH,<br /> + +OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.</h1> + +<h2>VOL. 104.</h2> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<h2>January 28, 1893.</h2> +<hr class="full" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page37" id="page37"></a>[pg 37]</span> + +<h2>CONVERSATIONAL HINTS FOR YOUNG SHOOTERS.</h2> + +<p class="center">THE KEEPER. (<i>Continued.</i>)</p> + +<p>Is there no way, then, you may ask, in which the Head Keeper +may be lured from his customary silence for more than a sentence or +two? Yes, there is one absolutely certain method, and, so far as +I know, only one. The subject to which you must lead your conversation +is—no, it isn't poachers, for a good keeper takes the occasional +poacher as part of his programme. He wages war against +him, of course; and, if his shooting happens to be situated near a +town of some importance, the war is often a very sanguinary one, +only ended by the extermination (according to Assize-Court methods) +of the poachers. But the keeper, as I say, takes all this as a matter +of course. He recognises that poachers, after all, are men; as a +sportsman, he must have a sneaking sympathy for one whose science +and wood-craft often baffle his own; and, therefore, though he +fights against him sturdily and conscientiously, and, as a rule, +triumphs over him, he does not generally, being what I have described +him, brag of these victories, nor, indeed, does he care to talk +about them. "There, but for the grace of God, goes Velveteens," +must be the mental exclamation +of many a good keeper when he +hears his enemy sentenced to a +period of compulsory confinement. +I do not wish to be misunderstood. +There are poachers and +poachers. And whereas we may +have a certain sympathy for the +instinct of sport that seems to +compel some men to match their +skill against the craft of fur or +feather reared at the expense and +by the labour of others, there can +surely be none for the methodical +rogues who band themselves together +on business principles, and +plunder coverts just +as others crack cribs, +or pick pockets. +Even sentiment is +wasted on these gentlemen.</p> + +<p>But I return from +this digression. The +one subject, then, on +which a keeper may +be trusted to become +eloquent, is, that of</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Foxes</span>.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width:50%;"><a href="images/037.png"><img width="100%" src="images/037-alt.png" alt="Taking away his Character." /></a><h3>"Taking away his Character."</h3></div> + +<p>Just try him. Suppose +you are shooting +a wood, in which you +expect to find a considerable +number of +pheasants. The guns +are posted, the beaters +have begun to move +at the far end of the +wood. Suddenly you +are aware of a commotion in the middle of the wood. Here and +there pheasants rise long before the beaters have approached. +There is a whirring of wings, and dozens of birds sail away, un-shot +at, to right, to left, and all over the place. And then, while +you are still wondering what this may mean, a fine dog-fox comes +sliding out from the covert. Away he goes at top speed across +the open. The little stops view him as he passes, and far and near +the air resounds with shrill "yoick!" and "tally-ho!" In the end +four birds are brought to bag, where twenty at least had been +expected. When the beat is over, this is the kind of conversation +you will probably hear:—</p> + +<p><i>First Beater</i> (<i>to a colleague</i>). I seed 'un, <span class="sc">Jim</span>; a great, fine fox 'e +were, a slinkin' off jest afore we coom up. "Go it," I says to +myself; "go it, Muster <span class="sc">Billy Fox</span>, you bin spoilin' sport, I'll +warrant, time you was off"; and out 'e popped as sly as fifty on 'em, +ah, that 'e was.</p> + +<p><i>Second B.</i> Ah! I lay 'e was that. Where did 'e slip to, <span class="sc">Tom</span>?</p> + +<p><i>First B.</i> I heerd 'em a hollerin' away by <span class="sc">Chuff's</span> Farm. Reckon +'e's goin' to hev 'is supper there, to-night.</p> + +<p><i>Second B.</i> And a pretty meal 'e'll make of it. Pheasant for +breakfast, pheasant for dinner, pheasant for tea; I'll lay 'e don't +get much thinner.</p> + +<p><i>One of the Guns</i> (<i>to the Keeper</i>). Nuisance about that fox, <span class="sc">Sykes</span>.</p> + +<p><i>Keeper.</i> Nuisance, Sir? You may say that. Why, I've seen as +many as four o' them blamed varmints one after another in this 'ere +blessed wood. Did you see 'im, Sir? I wish you'd a shot 'im just +by mistake. Nobody wouldn't a missed 'im. But there, a-course I +daren't touch 'em. Mr. <span class="sc">Chalmers</span> wouldn't like it, and a-course +I couldn't bring myself to do it. But I do say, we've got too many +on 'em, and we never get the hounds, or if they do come, they +can't kill. What am I to do? Mr. <span class="sc">Chalmers</span> wants birds, and 'e +wants foxes too. I tell 'im 'e can't have both. I does my best, but +what's a man to do with a couple o' thousand foxes nippin' the +heads off of his birds? Fairly breaks my heart, Sir. Keep 'em +alive, indeed! Live and let live's my motter, but it ain't the plan +o' them blamed foxes.</p> + +<blockquote><p>[<i>And so forth ad lib.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p>There are other animals which your true keeper holds in aversion. +And chief amongst these is the domestic cat. You might as well +try to keep a journalist from his writing-paper as country cats from +the coverts. They are inveterate and determined poachers, and, +alas, they meet with scant mercy from the keeper if he catches +them. Many a fireside tabby or tortoise-shell dies a violent death +in the course of every year, and is buried in a secret grave. This +often gives rise to disturbance, for the cottager, to whom the deceased +was as the apple of her eye, may make complaint of the keeper +to his master. My friend <span class="sc">Sykes</span>, one of the best keepers I know, +once related to me an +incident of this nature. +As it may help +to explain the nature +of keepers, and throw +light on the conversational +method to be +adopted with them, I +here set down the +winged words in which +<span class="sc">Sykes</span> addressed me.</p> + +<p>"Trouble, Sir? I +believe you. Them +old women gives me a +peck o' trouble, far +more nor the breakin' +of a retriever dog. +There's old Mrs. <span class="sc">Padstow</span>, +Mother <span class="sc">Padds</span> +we call 'er, she's a +rare old teaser. Went +up to Mr. <span class="sc">Chalmers</span> +last week and told 'im +I'd shot 'er pet cat. +Mr. <span class="sc">Chalmers</span>, 'e +spoke to me about it; +said I'd better go and +make it right with the +old gal. So, yesterday +I goes to call upon 'er. +First we passed the +time o' day together, +and then we got to +business. You see, +Sir, me and the old +lady had always been +friendly, so I took it +on the friendly line. +'Look 'ere,' I says, +'Mrs. <span class="sc">Padstow</span>, I've +come about a cat.' 'Ah,' she says. 'It's just this way,' I says, +'Mr. <span class="sc">Chalmers</span> tells me you said I'd shot your cat. Now,' I says, +straightenin' myself up and lookin' proud, 'I couldn't scarcely believe +that, and you and me such good friends, so I've just come to ask you +if you did say that. She was a bit took aback at this, so I asked 'er +again. 'Well,' she says, 'I didn't exactly say that.' 'What did you +say then?' I asked her. 'I told Mr. <span class="sc">Chalmers</span>,' she says, 'that our +old cat 'ad been shot what never did no 'arm, and I thought it might +be as you'd a done it, p'raps not meanin' it.' 'Ah,' I says, 'them +was your words, was they?' 'Yes,' she says, 'them was my words.' +'Well, then,' I says, 'you'd better be careful what you say next time, +or you don't know whose character you'll be takin' away next.' And +with that I left 'er."</p> + +<p>"But did you shoot the cat, <span class="sc">Sykes</span>?" I ventured to ask.</p> + +<p>"<i>Did</i> I shoot it? Ho, ho, ha, ha! What do <i>you</i> think! Sir?"</p> + +<p>And with that enigmatic answer the dialogue closed.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class="sc">When</span> referring to a recent Lecture by a certain Noble Marquis +(distinguished in the "<i>P.R.</i>-age" of the Realm), the ladies generally +say, that they should decidedly object to be married "under the +Queensberry Rules." <i>Their</i> prize ring is quite another affair.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>"<span class="sc">Down among the Coals</span>."—The most appropriate place wherein +to try "the scuttle" policy would, of course, be—Newcastle.</p> + +<hr /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page38" id="page38"></a>[pg 38]</span> + +<h2>THE DESCENT INTO THE MAELSTRÖM.</h2> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/038.png"><img width="100%" src="images/038-alt.png" alt="" /></a></div> + +<p class="center">(<i>Fragments from a Narrative somewhat in the style of E. A. Poe.</i>)</p> + +<p>Even while one gazed, the current acquired a monstrous velocity.</p> + +<p>Each moment added to its speed—to its headlong impetuosity.</p> + +<p>The vast bed of the waters, seamed and scarred into a thousand +conflicting channels, burst suddenly into frenzied convulsion—heaving, +boiling, hissing,—gryrating in gigantic and innumerable +vortices, and all whirling and plunging on with a rapidity which +water never elsewhere assumes except in precipitous descents.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Precipitous descents! Niagara's abrupt and headlong plunge is but +as an eddy in a rocky trout-stream compared with what was soon to be +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page39" id="page39"></a>[pg 39]</span> +seen <i>here</i>. In brief +space there came over +the scene another +radical alteration. The +general surface grew +somewhat more +smooth, and the whirlpools +one by one disappeared, +while prodigious +streaks of +foam became apparent +where none had been +seen before. These +streaks, at length, +spreading out to a +great distance, and +entering into combination, +took unto +themselves the gyratory +motion of the +subsided vortices, and +seemed to form the +germ of another more +vast. Suddenly—very +suddenly—this assumed +a distinct and +definite existence in a +circle of a colossal and +seemingly all-embracing +diameter. The +edge of the whirl was +represented by a broad +belt of gleaming, +turbid slime—cumbered +spray, foul, +festering, furiously +troubled, slipping, as +it seemed, particle by +particle, viscid gout +by gout, into the +mouth of the terrific +funnel, whose interior, +as far as the eye could +fathom it, was a +smooth, shining, and +jet-black wall of +water, inclined to the +horizon at an angle of +some forty-five degrees, +speeding dizzily +round and round, with +a swaying and sweltering +motion, and +sending forth to the +winds an appalling +voice half shriek, half +roar, such as not +even the mighty +cataract of Niagara ever lifts up in its agony to Heaven.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Then, said I, this <i>can</i> be nothing else than the "great, all-whelming +whirlpool of the Maelström!"</p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figright" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/039.png"><img width="100%" src="images/039-alt.png" alt="FASHIONABLE." /></a><h3>FASHIONABLE.</h3> + +<p>"<span class="sc">How do you like me in this, Vera? Tell me the Truth</span>."</p> + +<p>"<span class="sc">Well, dear, it looks as if your pet Poodle had Died, and you'd had him +made up as a Cloak</span>!"</p></div> + +<p>In all violent eddies at sea <i>there is good fishing</i>, at proper opportunities, +if only one has the courage to attempt it. In fact, it is made +a matter of desperate speculation—risk standing instead of labour, +and courage, of a reckless, and not too scrupulous sort, answering +for capital. But there are many who would lightly adventure the +pestilential perils of a tropic stream, or fever-haunted water-way or +canal, who would yet shrink from being caught—owing to want of +care, and cautious calculation as to the exact hours of slack and +safety—by the hideous, irresistible, all-engulfing, all-wrecking +whirl of the terrifying Ström! Once drawn within the down-draught +of that hideous vortex, a whole army might be destroyed +more certainly than even by the manifold death-dealing contrivances +of modern science, a whole legislature lost in a single hour of +ghastly and unhonoured catastrophe!</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Oh, the sickening sweep of that descent! With what sensations of +awe, horror, and strange, distraught admiration, must a doomed +victim, once within that whirl, gaze about him!—for he has leisure +to observe. The downward draught of those swift, wide-sweeping, +spirally-whirling water-walls is comparatively slow. The victim +clinging to his boat, or bound to his spar or barrel, appears to be +hanging, as if by magic, midway down, upon the interior surface +of a funnel, vast in circumference, prodigious in depth, and +whose perfectly +smooth sides might be +mistaken for ebony, +but for the bewildering +rapidity with +which they spin +around, and for the +gleaming and ghastly +radiance they shoot +forth, a foul, phosphorescent +iridescence, as +of accumulated corruption, +streaming in +a flood of loathsome +radiance along the +black walls, and far +away down into the +inmost mist—veiled +recesses of the abyss!</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Looking about upon +the wide waste of +liquid ebony on which +that helpless, past-struggling, +beautiful, +and apparently doomed +figure was borne, I +perceived that she, in +the midst of the +mighty, all-mastering +misery, was not the +only object in the +embrace of the whirl. +Both above and below +were visible fragments +of wreckage—significant +wreckage—plumed +hats, sword-sheaths, +portfolios, +epaulettes, decorations, +insignia of +honour, as if here a +national Argosy, laden +with Opulence, Rank +Intelligence, and +Honour, had gone, +dismally and desperately, +down to—<i>what</i>? +Let those +Phlegethon walls, +that Tophet-like +mist, make answer!</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>And that bound, +helpless, seemingly +doomed, but beautiful +and piteously appealing +figure on +which my eyes were fixed in terror, and amaze, and profound compassion? +Alas! Yet are there some objects which enter the whirl +at a late period of the tide, which for some happy reason descend +slowly after entering, which do not reach the bottom before the turn +of the tide, which are <i>not completely absorbed</i> ere the desperate +ordeal of danger is ended by utter submergence and entire wreck! +These, conceivably, may be whirled up again to the level of the ocean, +without undergoing the fate of those which had been drawn in more +early, or absorbed more rapidly!</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Here indeed the phantom of Hope seems to gleam forth rainbow-like +even amidst the foul mists of the Maelström! That beautiful +agonised figure seems yet but as it were at the edge of the whirl. Into +its profound and pestilential depths, indeed, she <i>can see</i>. And she +shudders at the sight, as must all who are interested in her fate. +But the Ström will not whirl for ever, the hour of slack cannot be +far off, and when the slope of the sides of the vast funnel become +momentarily less and less steep, when the gyrations of the whirl grow +gradually less and less violent, when the froth and the fume disappear, +and the bottom of the gulf seems slowly to uprise; when the sky +clears, and the winds go down, and the full moon rises radiantly +o'er the swaying but no longer tormented floods, shall she, that +beautiful, bound creature be found floating upon the quieting waves, +sorely buffeted, may be much scarred, bearing in her beauty ineffaceable +traces of the hideous ordeal she has undergone, but living, +and <i>Safe</i>?</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>So may it be!</p> + +<hr /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page40" id="page40"></a>[pg 40]</span> + +<h2>CHARLEY'S OLD 'AUNT AT THE ROYALTY.</h2> + +<div class="figleft" style="width:50%;"><a href="images/040a.png"><img width="100%" src="images/040a-alt.png" alt="Like as Two P's!" /></a><h3><span class="sc">Like as Two P's</span>!</h3> + +<p><i>The Private Secretary.</i> "Excuse me, Madam? but, d'you know, I fancy +you must be a connection of mine—I see such a resemblance to our family. +I am the Rev. Robert Spalding!"</p> + +<p><i>Lord Fancourt Babberley.</i> "Oh yes; and I'm Charley's Aunt, and Robert's +Cousin."</p> + +<p><i>The P. S.</i> "Dear me! Fancy that!"</p></div> + +<p><i>Charley's Aunt</i>, by Mr. <span class="sc">Brandon Thomas</span>, is distinctly related +to <i>The Private Secretary</i>; and Mr. <span class="sc">Penley</span>, as <i>Lord Babberley</i>, +is second cousin to the <i>Rev. Mr. Spalding</i>, who, as the Private +Secretary, obtained so distinguished a position in the theatrical +world not so many years ago. As a play, <i>The Private Secretary</i> +had a strange history, seeing that it began as a failure, had an +Act cut out of it, and, surviving this severe operation, grew into +an enormous success, then went "so strong" as to be able to keep +on running in London, the Provinces, our Colonies, and America, +for some years.</p> + +<p><i>Charley's Aunt</i>, however, has experienced no such downs and +ups, being born to the rouge-pot as heiress of the great success which +<i>The Private Secretary</i> had only gradually, though surely, achieved. +Yet 'tis a matter for question whether the latter was not the better +piece, dramatically, of the two, having, besides its own comic situations, +two irresistibly diverting characters, represented by little +<span class="sc">Penley</span> and mountainous <span class="sc">Hill</span>, both playing into one another's hands.</p> + +<p>There are very few comparatively dull moments in <i>Charley's Aunt</i>, +and these arise from faulty construction necessitating occasional +explanations which come as dampers in the midst of the uproarious +fun whereat the house has been shaking its sides and even weeping +with laughter. And the awkwardness of these pauses in the +action is still further emphasised by their being filled up with either +commonplace narrative, or with a kind of cheap sentimentality quite +at variance with the general tone of the piece. Were this slight +blemish removed, the longevity of <i>Charley's Aunt</i> would, it is +more than probable, equal that of <i>The Private Secretary</i>.</p> + +<p>All the parts are well played. Mr. <span class="sc">Brandon Thomas</span> has not +given himself much of a chance as <i>Colonel Chesney</i>, who bears a +strong family resemblance to the heavy dragoon in the <i>Pantomime +Rehearsal</i>. The young men, Messrs. <span class="sc">Percy Lyndal</span> and <span class="sc">Farmer</span>, +have plenty of "go"—it would be "little go" were they Cantabs—as +the two undergraduates, young enough to be still up at College +completing their education, yet old enough to propose and be accepted +as eligible husbands. But in a rattling three-act farce as this is +intended to be, any exaggeration is sufficiently probable as long only +as it is thoroughly amusing; and, it be added, in such a piece, +sentiment is as much out of place as would be plain matter-of-fact +conduct or dialogue. To see Mr. <span class="sc">Penley</span> in the elderly Aunt's +dress is to convulse the house without his uttering a word. +To see him enjoying himself with the young ladies while threatened +by their lovers, who cannot take them away without compromising +themselves, is delicious. Then, when after dinner he is alone with +the ladies, and having been informed by the scout—capitally impersonated +by Mr. <span class="sc">Cecil Thornbury</span>—in a whisper, what story it is +that the gentlemen find so amusing, he goes into fits of laughter, and +subsequently, when after one of the ladies has told a story which makes +the girls laugh, he inquires "Is that all?" and being answered that +it is, he cannot refrain from expressing, in very strong language, his +opinion of the stupidity of the anecdote he has just heard, and then is +seized with a perfect convulsion of laughter,—in all this he is most +heartily joined by the entire audience, who laugh with him and at +him. Altogether in this piece Mr. <span class="sc">Penley</span> is inimitably and irresistibly +funny.</p> + +<p>The piece has one other merit which is not the least among its +attractions, that is, that it begins at nine punctually and is over +by eleven, thus yielding two hours of all-but continuous merriment.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>SIMPLE STORIES.</h2> + +<p class="center">"Be always kind to animals wherever you may be!"</p> + +<p class="center">ELSIE AND THE MACAW.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width:33%;"><a href="images/040b.png"><img width="100%" src="images/040b-alt.png" alt="" /></a></div> + +<p><span class="sc">Elsie</span> was growing a big girl, and though she was still in short +frocks, she gave herself airs, and had ideas about dress, and sometimes +was tempted to argue with her dear Mamma and give her a pert +answer. She was, however in high glee just now, because she had +been invited by her Aunt <span class="sc">Dabblechick</span> to a pic-nic with a lot of other +little boys and girls. She made a great fuss about her dress, she +studied <i>The Queen</i>, and <i>The Gentlewoman</i>, and other papers devoted +to this important subject, and +worried her poor Mamma with +all sorts of silly suggestions. +The costume, however, was at +last arranged, and the little +goose was cross because her +Mamma would not allow her to +have a blue feather in her hat. +<span class="sc">Elsie</span>, like a naughty child, +determined that she would, +by some means or other, have +this feather.</p> + +<p>How to obtain one was the +difficulty. At last it struck +her that the splendid Macaw, +a gift from her Uncle, Admiral +<span class="sc">Sangarorum</span>, brought from Brazil, +had some lovely feathers of +about the right tint.</p> + +<p>Taking a few lumps of sugar +with her, she paid a visit to the +conservatory where "Lord Macawley," +as he was called, swung +all day and shrieked. She felt +how naughty she was, but her +overweening vanity quite stifled +her conscience. She scratched +the bird's poll, treated him to +several lumps of sugar, and, when he was not looking, suddenly +jerked one of the finest feathers out of his tail.</p> + +<p>"Lord Macawley" screamed furiously, and <span class="sc">Elsie</span> was terribly +frightened for fear she should be discovered. She, however, ran +away with her prize, and carefully fixed it in her hat.</p> + +<p>The next morning when she was ready to start, and <span class="sc">James</span> was +waiting with the pony-chaise to drive her over to her Aunt's, her +Mamma, who was gathering flowers in the conservatory, sent for +her to see that she looked nice before starting. Very pretty the +little girl looked in her peacock blue dress, her snowy frills, her +black-silk stockings, and Oxford shoes.</p> + +<p>Her hat was trimmed with ribbon to match her dress, and her +feather so artfully intertwined, that she hoped her Mamma would +not notice it. It certainly would have passed without observation, +but, just as <span class="sc">Elsie</span> was tripping away, "Lord Macawley" +saw her.</p> + +<p>He set up a fiendish scream, and then said, "G-r-r! Gr-r-r! +Who stole my feather?" over and over again.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Elsie</span> turned scarlet. Mamma removed and inspected the hat, +and, the little girl was promptly packed off to bed, where she was +left to shed many tears over her folly for the rest of the day.</p> + +<p>Mamma keeps the blue feather, which she shows to her little +girl whenever she is inclined to be disobedient or vain. The +exhibition usually has a magical effect.</p> + +<hr /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page41" id="page41"></a>[pg 41]</span> + +<div class="figright" style="width:66%;"><a href="images/041.png"><img width="100%" src="images/041-alt.png" alt="THE SNOW CURE!!" /></a><h3>THE SNOW CURE!!</h3> + +<p><i>Fiendish Little Boy (to Elderly Gentleman, who has come a cropper for the fourth time in a +hundred yards).</i> "<span class="sc">'Ere I say, Guvn'or, you're fair, Wallerin' in it this mornin'! H'anyone +'ud think as you'd bin hordered it by your Medical Man!!!</span>"</p></div> + +<h2>THE NEXT EGYPTIAN LESSON.</h2> + +<blockquote><p><span class="sc">Scene</span>—<i>Interior of the Sanctum of +the</i> Young <span class="sc">Khedive</span>. <i>Present, +his Highness. To him enter the</i> +British Representative.</p></blockquote> + +<p><i>British Rep.</i> I think your Highness +desired to see me?</p> + +<p><i>Khedive.</i> Certainly, my dear Lord. +I wish to express once again my great +regret that I could have done, or +said, or thought anything without +taking your advice. You have quite +forgiven me?</p> + +<p><i>Brit. Rep.</i> (<i>in a tone of respectful +annoyance</i>). Thank you very much, +your Highness; but as I am exceptionally +busy this morning, I think, +if you have nothing more to say to +me, I will do myself the honour of +taking my departure.</p> + +<p><i>Khe.</i> Oh no—a thousand times, +no! Are you not aware that I am +very European in tastes, am fond of +books, and have a hobby in a small +aquarium?</p> + +<p><i>British Rep.</i> So I have read, your +Highness, in a London evening +paper. And now, if you will permit +me, I will——</p> + +<p><i>Khe.</i> Oh no—don't go, I promised +you I would consult you in every +important matter—and I mean to +keep my word.</p> + +<p><i>British Rep.</i> I am glad to hear your +Highness say so; and I can answer +for Her Majesty's Government being +extremely gratified at the report of +this conversation. I shall make a +point of communicating with the +Premier forthwith. And now, with +your Highness's gracious permission, +I will take my leave.</p> + +<p><i>Khe.</i> What a hurry you are in! I have got a lot of important +things to consult you about, and yet you won't wait a moment! I +say, it's not treating a fellow fairly!</p> + +<p><i>Brit. Rep.</i> (<i>grieved</i>). I trust your Highness will not repeat that +observation after due consideration. But to show you my anxiety +to meet your Highness's wishes, I will sacrifice the examination of a +promising scheme to make the Nile nine and a half times as productive +as it is now, to listen to you.</p> + +<p><i>Khe.</i> You are very good. Well, what do you think of my +dressing-gown?</p> + +<p><i>British Rep.</i> Capital—in every way capital. But surely you didn't +want to talk about that?</p> + +<p><i>Khe.</i> Oh, yes, I did! Would you advise me to have it trimmed +with any more fur?</p> + +<p><i>British Rep.</i> I should imagine it was more a matter of taste than +politics.</p> + +<p><i>Khe.</i> Oh, hang politics! What do you think about my dressing-gown? +Would your Government recommend fur?</p> + +<p><i>British Rep.</i> I think, under the circumstances, I can act on my own +responsibility without further reference to Her Majesty's Government. +Yes, by all means, have fur.</p> + +<p><i>Khe.</i> I am infinitely obliged to you. Fact is, I told my tailor +I thought I would have fur, but I did not like to give the order +without your advice.</p> + +<p><i>British Rep.</i> I trust your Highness accepts my assurance that +Her Majesty's Government are most anxious to prevent you from +appearing in a false position.</p> + +<p><i>Khe.</i> It's most civil of you to say so. Then I will have fur.</p> + +<p><i>British Rep.</i> And now, if your Highness no longer requires my +presence——.</p> + +<p><i>Khe.</i> (<i>interrupting</i>). But I do. As I have already said, I've a lot +of things to ask you. Now, I want to know whether it would be to +the benefit of the fellaheen if I visited the theatre more frequently?</p> + +<p><i>British Rep.</i> Your Highness will use your own discretion. I think +I may say, without further reference to Downing Street, that Her +Majesty's Government will have not the slightest objection to your +Highness indulging in any innocent recreation.</p> + +<p><i>Khe.</i> Come—that's very good of them. But don't go. Look +here. There will be no great harm if I wear brown leather boots?</p> + +<p><i>British Rep.</i> I think not, if your Highness, by the exhibition of +such a preference, does not wound the susceptibilities of other +Powers. And now, your Highness, with your permission, I think I +must withdraw.</p> + +<p><i>Khe.</i> Very well. If you won't stay any longer I suppose you +won't. If I want any more advice I will send over to you.</p> + +<p><i>British Rep.</i> I am extremely obliged to your Highness.</p> + +<blockquote><p>[<i>Bows, and exit.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p><i>Khe.</i> Glad he's gone! And now that I have consulted him about +everything, I think I will have a little recreation on my own +account. What shall I do? Oh, I know, I will dismiss the entire +Ministry!</p> + +<blockquote><p>[<i>Does so.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p class="center">(<i>Curtain.</i>)</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>"<span class="sc">Going Strong.</span>"—At the Court Theatre the <i>Pantomime +Rehearsal</i> in which Messrs. <span class="sc">Brookfield</span> and <span class="sc">Weedon</span> have a +capital duet, is just as fresh as ever. Quite a new piece with all the +old fun in it. "Equestrian Scenes in the Circle," might now be added, +as they've got a performing <span class="sc">Palfrey</span> who does a very pretty +<i>scherzo</i> or skirt-show dance. "Good entertainment for"—everybody.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class="sc">Vice Versâ on the Stage.</span>—Re-appearance of Mr. and Mrs. +<span class="sc">Bancroft</span> at <span class="sc">Hare's</span> Theatre. When Mr. <span class="sc">Hare</span> made his first +appearance in London it was at Mr. and Mrs. <span class="sc">Bancroft's</span> Theatre. +And <i>Diplomacy</i> is to be revived. This move is most diplomatic.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>"<span class="sc">Happiness In ——.</span>"—Professor <span class="sc">St. George Mivart</span> will be glad +to learn that a telegram from New York, dated the 19th instant, +contained the following interesting item of intelligence.—"A vast +quantity of ice is now at Hell Gate."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class="sc">Depreciation of Gold!</span>—"Guinea Fowls" were sold in the +Market last week at from 2<i>s.</i> 5<i>d.</i> to 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i>! and a Plover Golden, +was to be had for ninepence!!</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>What with <i>The Daily Bourse</i> and dustmen who refuse to remove +the Drury-Lane refuse, our Sir <span class="sc">Augustus Duriolanus</span> has been, +of late, considerably Harris'd.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class="sc">Motto for the Ladies who Become Members of Mrs. Stannard's +"Anti-Crinoline League.</span>"—"All hoops abandon ye who +enter here."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class="sc">Great Britain</span> is a country <i>per se</i>—so is every Island, as it is +only <i>per sea</i> it can be reached.</p> + +<hr /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page42" id="page42"></a>[pg 42]</span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;"><a href="images/042.png"><img width="100%" src="images/042-alt.png" alt="MAKING THE BEST OF IT." /></a><h3>MAKING THE BEST OF IT.</h3> + +<p>"<span class="sc">Good Morning, Uncle Charles! Did you Sleep well? I'm afraid your Bed was rather hard and uneven; but——</span>"</p> + +<p>"<span class="sc">Oh, it was all right, thanks! I got up now and then during the Night, and rested a bit, you know!</span>"</p></div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>MISCHIEF!</h2> + +<blockquote><p>["As regards Home Rule, I did not, of course, say +that there were only three Home-Rulers in the +world—Mr. <span class="sc">Gladstone</span>, Mr. <span class="sc">Morley</span>, and myself. +I said that ... there were no stronger Home-Rulers, +except myself, than Mr. <span class="sc">Gladstone</span> and +Mr. <span class="sc">Morley</span> in Parliament."—<i>Mr. H. Labouchere, +in a Letter to the "Times."</i></p> + +<p>"Monkeys and parrots show much analogy in +character and habits; they both possess extraordinary +powers of imitation, which they exercise in +copying man and his peculiarities. Monkeys 'take +off' his gestures, and parrots his speech."—<i>Napier's +"Book of Nature and Man."</i></p></blockquote> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">Oh, a merry mime was Jacko!</p> +<p class="i2">He could wink, and whiff tobacco,</p> +<p class="i4">Like a man (an artful <i>homo</i>) and a brother.</p> +<p class="i2">And the Parrot—ah! for patter,</p> +<p class="i2">And capacity for chatter</p> +<p class="i2">On—no matter much <i>what</i> matter,</p> +<p class="i2">That gave scope for clitter-clatter,</p> +<p class="i4">The world could hardly furnish such another.</p> +<p class="i2">The Parrot was a bird</p> +<p class="i4">That could talk great bosh with gravity;</p> +<p class="i2">The Ape could be absurd</p> +<p class="i4">With an air of solemn suavity;</p> +<p>And which to take most seriously, when the mimes were both on show,</p> +<p>There were ill-conditioned scoffers who declared they did not know.</p> +</div> <div class="stanza"> +<p>"I am very sure," said Jacko, and he twitched his tail with glee,</p> +<p>"That the only serious creatures in the country are 'We Three'—</p> +<p>You, Polly, honest Jack (an Irish House-dog), and Myself!"</p> +<p>(Here he pulled poor Poll's tail-feathers hard, and capered like an elf.)</p> +<p>Poll held on to his perch, he'd much tenacity of claw,</p> +<p>But performed, involuntarily a sort of sharp see-saw,</p> +<p class="i4">And he snorted and looked down</p> +<p class="i4">With a very beaky frown,</p> +<p class="i4">And his round orb grew as red as any carrot.</p> +<p class="i4">"'<i>We Three</i>'? your Twelfth-Night tag</p> +<p class="i4">Is mere thrasonic brag.</p> +<p class="i4"><i>Tschutt!</i> You'll make my tail a rag!</p> +<p class="i4">Wish you wouldn't pull and drag</p> +<p>At my feathers in that way!" cried the Parrot.</p> +</div> <div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Chuckled Jacko, "This <i>is</i> prime!</p> +<p class="i4">What a dickens of a time</p> +<p class="i2">(Like the Parrot and the Monkey in the story)</p> +<p class="i4">We shall have! Teach you, no doubt,</p> +<p class="i4">Not to leave poor Jacko out</p> +<p class="i2">Next time when you are ladling round the glory.</p> +<p class="i4">I might share with honest Jack</p> +<p class="i4">If of yielding I'd the knack,</p> +<p class="i2">Or would stoop to play the flatterer or the flunkey.</p> +<p class="i4">Pretty Poll! It is my pride</p> +<p class="i4">To assist you—from outside!</p> +<p class="i2">And I hope you're duly grateful," said the Monkey.</p> +</div> <div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">"<i>I</i> perceive," cried Pretty Polly,</p> +<p class="i4">"It's all right, and awfully jolly!</p> +<p class="i2">But if you think to pull me from my perch</p> +<p class="i4">By the tail, you are mistaken.</p> +<p class="i4">Simian tricks will leave unshaken</p> +<p class="i2">My hold, though I may seem to sway or lurch.</p> +<p class="i4">A bird who knows his book</p> +<p class="i4">Can afford to cock a snook</p> +<p class="i2">At a chatterer who intrigueth against <i>his</i> chief.</p> +<p class="i4"><i>'We Three'?</i> You quote the Clown;</p> +<p class="i4">And <i>you play him</i>! Yes, I own</p> +<p class="i4">Pretty Poll <i>may</i> be pulled down,</p> +<p class="i2">But I do not think 'twill be by Monkey 'Mischief!'"</p> +</div></div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>For a Byronic Exam.</h2> + +<p><i>Question.</i> What proof exists that Lord +<span class="sc">Byron</span> shared expenses with the Maid of +Athens?</p> + +<p><i>Answer.</i> The line in which he says, "Maid +of Athens, ere we 'part,'"—&c.</p> + +<p><i>Q.</i> Is there any allusion to billiards in this +poem?</p> + +<p><i>A.</i> Certainly. It occurs where the Bard +says to the Maid, "Take the rest."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>"<span class="sc">Again We Come To Thee, Savoy</span>!" +(<i>vide old-fashioned duet</i>).—It is rumoured +that the separation, on account of incompatibility +of temper, between a certain distinguished +Composer and an eminent Librettist +has come to an end. Its end is peace—that +is, an Operatic piece. They have met; the +two have embraced, and will, no doubt, live +happily ever afterwards, on the same terms +as before, with the third party present, whose +good offices it is pretty generally understood +(his "good offices" are "Number Something, +The Savoy,"—but this is not an advertisement) +have brought about this veritable "Reunion +of Arts."</p> + +<hr /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page43" id="page43"></a>[pg 43]</span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/043.png"><img width="100%" src="images/043-alt.png" alt="MISCHIEF!" /></a><h3>MISCHIEF!</h3></div> + +<hr /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page44" id="page44"></a>[pg 44]</span><br /></p> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page45" id="page45"></a>[pg 45]</span> + +<h2>OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.</h2> + +<div class="figright" style="width:50%;"><a href="images/045.png"><img width="100%" src="images/045-alt.png" alt="A VOCATION." /></a><h3>A VOCATION.</h3> + +<p><i>The Vicar.</i> "<span class="sc">Oh—<i>That's</i> your Boy, Smithers? And what's he going to +be? A Shoemaker, like yourself</span>?"</p> + +<p><i>Smithers.</i> "<span class="sc">Oh no, Sir. He's uncommon fond of Animals, you see—so +we're thinking of making him a Butcher</span>!"</p></div> + +<p><i>"Eton of Old, or, +Eighty Years Since!"</i> +exclaimed the Baron, and, +taking up the handsome +volume recently published +by Messrs. <span class="sc">Griffith and +Farran</span>, he was soon absorbed +in its pages.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>"Rather disappointing," +murmured the Baron, as +he closed the book, and +"read no more that day." +"Why, with a good memory, +a lively imagination, +and a pleasant style, +this 'Old Colleger' might +have given us something +far more amusing than he +has done. Of course Anybody's +Anecdotes of our +Grand Old School will probably +be interesting up to +a certain point: and they +might be made 'funny, +without being vulgar.' +But this worthy Octogenarian, +be he who he may, +has produced only a very +matter-of-fact book, containing +historic information +likely to arrest the +attention of an old or +young Etonian, but only +now and again does the +author give us anything +sufficiently amusing to +evoke a laugh. However, +in the course of perusal, +I have smiled gently, but +distinctly. Had the Octogenarian +already told +many of these stories to +his intimates, to whom +their narration caused as +much facile entertainment +as was given to the friends +of <i>Mr. Peter Magnus</i>, +when he signed himself +'<span class="sc">Afternoon</span>,' in substitution +for his initials, +'P.M.'?" And it is related +how <i>Mr. Pickwick</i> rather +envied the ease with which <i>Mr. Magnus's</i> friends were entertained. +If so, then is the Baron to the Octogenarian Etonian and his intimates +as was <i>Mr. Pickwick</i> to "P. M." and his correspondents. There +are some good tales about <span class="sc">Keat</span> and <span class="sc">Hawtrey</span>, and of course the +book, as one among an Etonian series, has its own value for all who +care about Eton of the past.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>"<i>Perdidi diem</i>," says the Baron, "or at least the better part of +it, in reading <i>Zero the Slaver</i>, by <span class="sc">Lawrence Fletcher</span>, who seems +to me to be a promising pupil in the school of <span class="sc">Rider Haggard</span> and +<span class="sc">Louis Stevenson</span>, but chiefly of the former. It was a beastly day, +snow falling, and North-West-by-North wind howling, bitterly +cold, and so," continued the Baron, "I was reduced to <i>Zero</i>. The +construction of the plot is clever, as is also the description of a great +fight, in the latter portion of the story; but, as a whole, the story +is irritatingly ill-written, and tawdrily coloured, while italics are +used to bring into prominence any description of some strongly sensational +situation."</p> + +<p>Few things so annoying to me, personally, as the romancer speaking +of his chief puppets as "our friends." This <span class="sc">Lawrence +Fletcher</span> is perpetually doing. Now his heroes are not "my +friends," for, when I read, I am strictly impartial, at all events, +through two-thirds of the book, and, if I learn to love any one or +two (or more) of them, male or female, I should still resent the +author's presuming to speak of them as "our friends." To do so +from the first is simply impudent presumption on the part of the +author, as why, on earth, should he assume that his creations—his +children—should be as dear to us as they are to him?</p> + +<p>No—"Our friends," so used, is a mistake.</p> + +<p>The influence of <span class="sc">Rider Haggard</span> is over the whole book, but in +two instances the author has been unable to resist close imitation, +nay, almost quotation of a +well-known Haggardism, +and so he writes at +p. 130:—</p> + +<blockquote><p>"Just then a very wonderful +and awful thing happened."</p></blockquote> + +<p>And at p. 197:—</p> + +<blockquote><p>"When suddenly, and without +an instant's warning, a +most awful thing happened."</p></blockquote> + +<p>Both variations on a Haggardism, +and both equally +spoilt in the process of +transferring and adapting.</p> + +<p>One sentence, the utterance +of a Zulu chief, is +well worth quoting, and it +is this:—</p> + +<blockquote><p>"But empty hands are evil +things wherewith to face a +well-armed spook."</p></blockquote> + +<p>"The well-armed spook" +is a joy for ever.</p> + +<p><i>"A great black man +fleeted past the rocks."</i> +"Hum!" quoth the Baron, +"fleeted" is a new word +to me. Not that I object +to its invention and use on +that account; in sound +and appearance it expresses +no more than "sped," or, +if pursuit is to be implied, +"fled."</p> + +<p>Here is something that +this novelist having written +may well lay to heart,</p> + +<blockquote><p><i>"The man was as white-skinned +as themselves, and +judging from the purity of his +English, must have been at one +time a British subject."</i></p></blockquote> + +<p>"Now," quoth the +Baron, meditatively, "if +purity of English, with or +without a white skin, is +the unmistakable mark of +a 'British subject,' then it +follows that Mr. <span class="sc">Lawrence +Fletcher</span> is of some +nationality other than +British. At least, such is +the logical conclusion arrived at by his humble but critical servant,</p> + +<p class="author">"<span class="sc">The Baron de B. W.</span> 'B. B.' (<i>British Born.</i>)"</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class="sc">A New Turn</span>.—He was an eloquent, an earnest lover, but she +saw through him. When he had sworn to be true, which oath of +his she didn't trust for a minute, and had implored her to do likewise, +she only murmured to herself, "<i>Had I a heart for falsehood +framed</i>——" Whereupon he vowed that such a thing was impossible; +but, supposing her to possess such a heart, what would she +do with it, considering it as a frame? Then she replied, softly, +"I should put your portrait in it."</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>"All's Well that Ends Well."</h2> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="sc">Young Abbas</span> thought to catch Lord <span class="sc">Cromer</span> napping.</p> +<p>Perhaps he'll not again try weasel-trapping.</p> +<p>E'en <span class="sc">Homer</span> sometimes nods. 'Tis true—of <span class="sc">Homer</span>;</p> +<p>But <span class="sc">Abbas</span> thinks 'tis not—as yet—of <span class="sc">Cromer</span>!</p> +</div></div> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class="sc">Mr. Labouchere</span> is, <span class="sc">Autolycus</span> hears, much interested in Mr. +<span class="sc">Yates's</span> promotion to Magisterial honours. "I shall keep my eye +on <span class="sc">Edmund</span>," <span class="sc">Henry</span> says. "If only I get a chance of putting +him on my weekly Pillory in <i>Truth</i>, I do not deny it would give +me keen satisfaction."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class="sc">Mrs. R.</span> has read that the Christy Minstrels are turned into a +Limited Company, but, before subscribing for shares, she wants to +know if she would have to black her face? But what she objects to +most is, that the principal performers (as she has been told) rattle +their own bones!</p> + +<hr /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page46" id="page46"></a>[pg 46]</span> + +<h2>THE MAN FROM BLANKLEY'S.</h2> + +<p class="center"><span class="sc">A Story In Scenes.</span></p> + +<blockquote><p><span class="sc">Scene</span> III.—Mrs. <span class="sc">Tidmarsh's</span> <i>Drawing-room. Wall-paper of big +grey peonies sprawling over a shiny pale salmon ground. Over-mantel +in black and gold. Large mirrors: cut-glass gaselier, +supplemented by two standard lamps with yellow shades. Furniture +upholstered in yellow and brown brocade. Crimson +damask hangings. Parian statuettes under glass, on walnut +"What-nots"; cheap china in rosewood cabinets. Big banner-screen +embroidered in beads, +with the Tidmarsh armorial +bearings, as recently ascertained +by the Heralds' College. +Time, twenty minutes to +eight.</i> Mrs. <span class="sc">Tidmarsh</span> <i>is seated, +flushed and expectant, near the +fire, her little daughter</i>, <span class="sc">Gwendolen</span>, +<i>aged seven, is apparently +absorbed in a picture-book +close by.</i> Miss <span class="sc">Seaton</span> <i>is +sitting by a side-table, at some +distance from them. Enter</i> +Mr. <span class="sc">Tidmarsh</span>, <i>who, obeying +a sign from his wife, approaches +the hearth-rug, and +lowers his voice to a cautious +under-tone.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p><i>Mr. Tid.</i> It's all right, <span class="sc">Seakale</span> +got in at <span class="sc">Blankley</span>'s just as +they were closing. They said they +would send round and stop the person, +if possible—but they couldn't +say, for certain, whether +he mightn't have started +already.</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. Tid.</i> Then he may +come, even now! May I +ask what you intend to do +if he does, <span class="sc">Montague</span>?</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Tid.</i> Well, that's +what I rather wanted to ask +<i>you</i>, my dear. We might tell +<span class="sc">Seakale</span> to send him away.</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. Tid.</i> If you do, he'll +be certain to send away the +wrong person—Uncle <span class="sc">Gabriel</span>, +as likely as not!</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Tid.</i> Um——yes, I +never thought of that—no, +he must be shown up. +Couldn't you explain to him, +quietly, that we have made +up our party and shan't require +his—hem—services?</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. Tid.</i> I? Certainly +<i>not</i>, <span class="sc">Montague</span>. <i>You</i> hired +him, and you must get rid +of him yourself!</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width:50%;"><a href="images/046.png"><img width="100%" src="images/046-alt.png" alt="Mr. and Mrs. Ditchwater!" /></a><h3>"Mr. and Mrs. Ditchwater!"</h3></div> + +<p><i>Mr. Tid.</i> (<i>uneasily.</i>) 'Pon +my word, <span class="sc">Maria</span>, it's an +awkward thing to do. I +almost think we'd better +keep him if he comes—we +shall have to <i>pay</i> for him +anyhow. After all, he'll be +quite inoffensive—nobody +will notice he's been hired +for the evening.</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. Tid.</i> He may be one +of the assistants out of the +shop for all we can tell. And +you're going to let him stay +and make us thirteen, the +identical thing he was hired +to avoid! Well, I shall +have to let Miss <span class="sc">Seaton</span> dine, after all—that's what it comes to, and +this creature can take her down—it will be a little change for her. +<span class="sc">Gwennie</span>, my pet, run down and tell <span class="sc">Seakale</span> that if he hears me +ring twice after everybody has come, he's to lay two extra places +before he announces dinner. (<span class="sc">Gwennie</span> <i>departs reluctantly</i>; Mrs. T. +<i>crosses to</i> Miss <span class="sc">Seaton</span>.) Oh, Miss <span class="sc">Seaton</span>, my husband and I have +been thinking whether we couldn't manage to find a place for you at +dinner to-night. Of course, it is <i>most</i> unusual, and you must not +expect us to make a <i>precedent</i> of it; but—er—you seem rather out +of spirits, and perhaps a little cheerful society—just for once——I +don't know if it can be arranged yet, but I will let you know about +that later on.</p> + +<p><i>Miss Seaton</i> (<i>to herself</i>). I do believe she <i>means</i> to be kind! +(<i>Aloud.</i>) Of course, I shall be very pleased to dine, if you wish it.</p> + +<p><i>Seakale</i> (<i>at door</i>). Mr. and Mrs. <span class="sc">Gabriel Gilwattle</span>, and +Miss <span class="sc">Bugle</span>!</p> + +<blockquote><p>[<i>Enter a portly old Gentleman, with light prominent eyes and a +crest of grizzled auburn hair, in the wake of an imposing +Matron in ruby velvet: they are followed by an elderly +Spinster in black and silver, who rattles with jet.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p><i>Miss Bugle</i> (<i>after the usual greetings</i>). +I hope, dearest <span class="sc">Maria</span>, you will excuse +me if I am not quite in my usual spirits +this evening; but my cockatoo, whom I +have had for ages, has been in convulsions +the whole afternoon, and though I +left him calmer, done up in warm flannel +on the rug in front of the fire, and the +maid promised faithfully to sit up with +him, and telegraph if there was the +slightest change, I can't help feeling I +ought never to have come.</p> + +<p><i>Aunt Joanna</i> (<i>to her host.</i>) Such a drive +as it is here, all the way from Regent's +Park, and in this fog—I told +<span class="sc">Gabriel</span> that if he escapes +bronchitis to-morrow——</p> + +<p><i>Seakale.</i> Mr. and Mrs. +<span class="sc">Ditchwater</span>! Mr. <span class="sc">Toomer</span>!</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Ditch.</i> Yes, dear Mrs. +<span class="sc">Tidmarsh</span>, our opportunities +for these festive meetings +grow more and more limited +with each advancing year. +Seven dear friends, at whose +board we have sat, and they +at ours, within the past +twelve months, carried off—all +gone from us!</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. Ditch.</i> <i>Eight</i>, <span class="sc">Jeremiah</span>, +if you count Mr. +<span class="sc">Jaunders</span>—though <i>he</i> only +dined with us once.</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Ditch.</i> To be sure, +and never left his bed again. +Well, well, it should teach +us, as I was remarking to +my dear wife as we drove +along, to set a higher value +than we do on such hospitalities +as we are still privileged +to enjoy.</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Toomer</i> (<i>to</i> Mrs. <span class="sc">Tid.</span>) +My poor wife would, I am +sure, have charged me with +all manner of messages, if +she had not been more or +less delirious all day—but I +am in no anxiety about her—she +is so often like that, it +is almost chronic.</p> + +<p><i>Seakale.</i> Mr. and Mrs. +<span class="sc">Bodfish</span>! Miss <span class="sc">Flinders</span>! +Mr. <span class="sc">Poffley</span>!</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Bodf.</i> (<i>after salutations.</i>) +Mrs. <span class="sc">Bodfish</span> and +myself have just been the +victims of a most extraordinary +mistake! We positively +walked straight into +your next-door neighbour's +house, and if we had not +been undeceived by a mummy +on the first landing, I don't +know where we should have +found ourselves next.</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. Tid.</i> <i>A mummy!</i> How <i>very</i> disagreeable; such a <i>peculiar</i> +thing to have about a house? But we really know nothing about the +people next door. We have never encouraged any intimacy. We +thought it best.</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. Bodf.</i> I told their man-servant as we came away that I considered +he had behaved disgracefully in not telling us our mistake +at once; no doubt he had a motive; people <i>are</i> so unprincipled!</p> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page47" id="page47"></a>[pg 47]</span> +<div class="figright" style="width:75%;"><a href="images/047.png"><img width="100%" src="images/047-alt.png" alt="WRITING THE QUEEN'S SPEECH." /></a><h3>WRITING THE QUEEN'S SPEECH.</h3></div> +<p><i>Little Gwendolen</i> (<i>drawing</i> Miss <span class="sc">Seaton</span> <i>into a corner</i>). Oh, Miss +<span class="sc">Seaton</span>, what <i>do</i> you think? Mother's going to let you dine downstairs +with them—won't <i>that</i> be nice for you? At least, she's going +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page48" id="page48"></a>[pg 48]</span> +to, if somebody comes, and you're to go down with him. He isn't like +a <i>regular</i> dinner-guest, you know. Papa hired him from <span class="sc">Blankley's</span> +this morning, and Mother and he both hope he mayn't come, after +all; but <i>I</i> hope he <i>will</i>, because I want to see what he's like. Don't +<i>you</i> hope he'll come? <i>Don't</i> you, Miss <span class="sc">Seaton</span>, dear?</p> + +<p><i>Miss Seaton</i> (<i>to herself</i>). Then <i>that</i> was why! And I can't even +refuse! (<i>Aloud.</i>) My dear <span class="sc">Gwennie</span>, you shouldn't tell me all +these things—they're secrets, and I'm sure your Mother would be +very angry indeed if she heard you mention them to <i>anybody</i>!</p> + +<p><i>Gwen.</i> Oh, it was only to you, Miss <span class="sc">Seaton</span>, and you're <i>nobody</i>, +you know! And I <i>can</i> keep a secret, if I choose. I never told how +<span class="sc">Jane</span> used to——[Miss <span class="sc">Seaton</span> <i>endeavours to check these disclosures</i>.</p> + +<p><i>Uncle Gab.</i> (<i>out of temper, on the hearth-rug</i>). Seven minutes +past the hour, <span class="sc">Monty</span>—and, if there's a thing I'm particular about, +it's not being kept waiting for my dinner. Are you expecting +somebody else? or what <i>is</i> it?</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Tid.</i> (<i>nervously</i>). Well, I half thought—but we won't wait +any longer for him—he is not worth it—ha! there he is—I think +I heard the front door—so perhaps I may as well give him——eh?</p> + +<p><i>Uncle Gab.</i> Just as you like—<i>my</i> dinner's spoilt as it is. (<i>Catching +sight of the banner-screen.</i>) What have you stuck this precious +affair up for, eh?</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Tid.</i> To—to keep the fire off. <span class="sc">Maria's</span> idea. Uncle—she +thought our—hem—crest and motto would look rather well made up +like this.</p> + +<p><i>Uncle Gab.</i> (<i>with a snort</i>). Made up! I should think it was! +Though what you want to make yourself out one of those good-for-nothing +aristocrats for is beyond me. You know <i>my</i> sentiments +about 'em—I'm a thorough-going Radical, and the very sound of a +title——</p> + +<p><i>Seakale</i> (<i>with a fine combination of awe and incredulity</i>). Lord +<span class="sc">Strathsporran</span>!</p> + +<blockquote><p>[<i>There is a perceptible flutter in the company, as a ruddy-haired +and rather plain young man enters with an apologetic and even +diffident air, and pauses in evident uncertainty as to his host and +hostess.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p><i>Uncle Gab.</i> (<i>to himself.</i>) A Lord! Bless my soul! <span class="sc">Monty</span> and +<span class="sc">Maria</span> are getting up in the world!</p> + +<p><i>Guests</i> (<i>to themselves.</i>) A Lord! No <i>wonder</i> they kept the dinner +back!</p> + +<p><i>Miss Seaton</i> (<i>after a hurried glance—to herself.</i>) Good Heavens! +<span class="sc">Douglas Claymore</span>!—reduced to this! [<i>She lowers her head.</i></p> + +<p><i>Mr. Tid.</i> (<i>to himself.</i>) They might have told me they were going +to send us a Lord—<i>I</i> never ordered one! I wonder if he's genuine—he +don't <i>look</i> it. If I could only find out, quietly!</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. Tid.</i> (<i>to herself.</i>) Gracious! And I was going to send him in +with the Governess! (<i>To her Husb. in a whisper.</i>) <span class="sc">Montague</span>, what +are you <i>about</i>? Go and be civil to him—do!</p> + +<blockquote><p>[<i>She rings the bell twice:</i> Mr. <span class="sc">Tidmarsh</span> <i>advances, purple with indignation +and embarrassment, to welcome the new-comer, who +shakes him warmly by the hand</i>.</p></blockquote> + +<p class="center">(<i>End of Scene III.</i>)</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class="sc">Her Way of Putting It.</span>—Mrs. R. thinks she has an excellent +memory for riddles. She was delighted with that somewhat old +conundrum about "What is more wonderful than <span class="sc">Jonah</span> in the +whale?" to which the answer is, "Two men in a fly," and determined +to puzzle her nephew with it the very next time she met him. +"Such a capital riddle I've got for you, <span class="sc">John</span>!" she exclaimed, +"Let me see. Oh, yes—I remember—yes, that's it;" and then, +having settled the form of the question, she put it thus—"What is +more wonderful than two men in an omnibus?" And when she +gave the answer, "<span class="sc">Jonah</span> in a fly," and correcting herself immediately, +said, "No—I mean, '<span class="sc">Jonah</span> in a whale,'" her nephew +affectionately recommended his excellent relative to lie down and +take a little rest.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class="sc">Railway Rates.</span>—What better rate can there be than that of the +Flying Dutchman to the South, and the Flying Scotchman to the +North; the two hours and a-half express to Bournemouth, and the +Granville two hours to Ramsgate? The word "Rates" is objectionable +as being associated with taxes—and to avoid the taxes the +Fishermen are going to employ smacks and boys. Poor boys! there +are a lot of smacks about. As the Pantomime and Music-hall poet +sang, "Tooral looral lido, whacky smacky smack!" But though they, +the Fishermen, hereby avoid the Rails, yet they can't do without +their network of lines.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>When an actor has to make love to an actress on the stage, it is +"purely a matter of business." Real "love-making" is never a +matter of business; most often 'tis very much the contrary. The +"matter of business" comes in with "making an uncommonly good +marriage," but the love-making has little to do with this, except as +it is, on the stage, "a matter of business."</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>THE RAILWAY SERVANT'S VADE-MECUM.</h2> + +<p><i>Question.</i> What are the duties of a Pointsman?</p> + +<p><i>Answer.</i> To remember the effect of moving the switches.</p> + +<p><i>Q.</i> When is he likely to cease to remember this important detail?</p> + +<p><i>A.</i> After he has been on duty a certain or uncertain number of +hours.</p> + +<p><i>Q.</i> Do these conditions also appertain to the labours of a man in +the signal-box?</p> + +<p><i>A.</i> Certainly, but in a more marked degree.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width:50%;"><a href="images/048.png"><img width="100%" src="images/048-alt.png" alt="" /></a></div> + +<p><i>Q.</i> What would a collision consequent upon the occasion to which +you have referred be called?</p> + +<p><i>A.</i> Generally, "an accident."</p> + +<p><i>Q.</i> But would there ever be an exception to this nomenclature?</p> + +<p><i>A.</i> Yes; in the case of a Coroner being over-officious, and his Jury +"turning nasty."</p> + +<p><i>Q.</i> What would be the effect of this unpleasant combination of +circumstances?</p> + +<p><i>A.</i> That a verdict of "Manslaughter" would be given against the +occupant of the signal-box.</p> + +<p><i>Q.</i> What would happen to his superiors?</p> + +<p><i>A.</i> Nothing. However, they would be required to see the proper +evidence was forthcoming at the prisoner's trial.</p> + +<p><i>Q.</i> What would be the end of the incident?</p> + +<p><i>A.</i> Six months hard labour from the Bench, and a day's sympathy +from the general Public for the ex-occupant of the signal-box.</p> + +<p><i>Q.</i> What are the duties of a Station-master?</p> + +<p><i>A.</i> To be civil to season-ticket holders, and to refer the general +Public to officials of smaller importance than himself.</p> + +<p><i>Q.</i> What is your impression of an ideal Station-master?</p> + +<p><i>A.</i> A gentleman in correct morning dress taking a deep interest +savouring of sincere satisfaction in all the arrangements of the traffic +over which he exercises a qualified control.</p> + +<p><i>Q.</i> If he is asked why such and such a train is an hour late, what +should he reply?</p> + +<p><i>A.</i> He should observe cheerily that it keeps better time than it +used to do.</p> + +<p><i>Q.</i> Should he ever exhibit surprise?</p> + +<p><i>A.</i> Only when a train enters the station punctually to the moment, +then he may safely presume that there must have been an accident +somewhere.</p> + +<p><i>Q.</i> And now in conclusion, how can an official secure in all human +probability a long life?</p> + +<p><i>A.</i> By taking care never to travel on his own line?</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><font size="+1">☞</font>NOTICE.—Rejected Communications or Contributions, whether MS., Printed Matter, Drawings, or Pictures of any description, will +in no case be returned, not even when accompanied by a Stamped and Addressed Envelope, Cover, or Wrapper. To this rule +there will be no exception.</p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume +104, January 28, 1893, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, VOL 104, JAN 28, 1893 *** + +***** This file should be named 20333-h.htm or 20333-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/0/3/3/20333/ + +Produced by Matt Whittaker, Juliet Sutherland and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +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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