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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 103,
+December 24, 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, Volume 103, December 24, 1892
+
+Author: Various
+
+Editor: Francis Burnand
+
+Release Date: January 11, 2007 [EBook #20338]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by V. L. Simpson, Malcolm Farmer and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+  PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
+
+  VOL. 103.
+
+  DECEMBER 24, 1892.
+
+
+
+[Illustration: SNUBBING A DECADENT.
+
+_He._ "A--DON'T YOU FIND EXISTENCE AN AWFUL BORE?"
+
+_She._ "A--WELL, _SOME_ PEOPLE'S EXISTENCE--MOST DECIDEDLY!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+YULE-TIDE--OLD AND NEW.
+
+AT THE COMMENCEMENT OF THE CENTURY.
+
+And they made merry in the good old fashion. The pictures on the walls
+were covered with holly and mistletoe. They had come from British woods.
+Then the tables groaned with Christmas cheer. The baron of beef was
+flanked with plum-pudding and mince-pies. There never was a more jovial
+crew. The compliments of the season were passed round, and the Christmas
+Waits, singing their Christmas carols, were entertained right royally.
+For was it not a time of peace and good will? Then there was a mighty
+laugh. A huge joke had been perpetrated. Grandfather had been asleep,
+and he was telling the youngsters, who had been playing a round game,
+the character of his dream.
+
+"I give you my word it is true," said the old man. "Yes, I actually
+forgot it was Christmas!"
+
+"But it was only in your dreams, Grandpapa," urged one of his
+descendants.
+
+"Yes, but that was bad enough," cried the old man in a tone of
+self-reproach, "fancy forgetting Christmas--even in one's dreams!
+Everything seems changing nowadays!"
+
+But the Grandfather was wrong--the Christmas bills were unchangeable.
+And ever will be!
+
+
+AT THE END OF THE CENTURY.
+
+And certainly it was dull enough in all conscience. Nowadays everything
+is dull. Although it was towards the end of December, the room was
+decorated with summer flowers. They had come from Algeria. Then the
+side-table was spread with a _recherché_ repast, for they were all going
+to dine _à la Russe_. But the guests were sad and thoroughly bored. They
+had sent a policeman after the itinerant street-musicians, with the
+desired result. Inside and outside silence reigned triumphant. Was it
+not a time for "moving on" and threatening "six weeks without the option
+of a fine"?
+
+Then there was a deep groan. A young man--somebody's Grandson--suggested
+a round game. At first the suggestion was received with derision.
+
+"You can't get up a Missing Word Competition," said one. "No, my
+Grandson, you can't."
+
+"Can't I?" said the youngster, who had been called 'Grandson.' "Can't I?
+Look here, I will write out a Word, and I will bet you none of you will
+guess it."
+
+And "Grandson" wrote out a Word on a piece of paper, and sealed it in a
+packet. Then he called out the sentence, "The present season of the year
+is known as----"
+
+Then they all tried to guess it. Some one said "unfavourable," another
+"pleasant," a third "dreary," and a fourth "troublesome."
+
+But they all were wrong.
+
+At last the sealed-up packet was produced, and opened. For the first
+time there was a smile when the Word was known.
+
+"Who would have thought of it?" was the cry.
+
+The word chosen was "Christmas."
+
+"Fancy anyone remembering Christmas! Even for a Missing Word
+Competition! Everything seems changing nowadays!"
+
+But the Grandson was wrong--his Christmas bills were unchangeable. And
+ever will be!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+"ART COMPETITIONS."
+
+    "Since these competitions were started, the public had been educated
+    in artistic matters, and their judgment was almost equal to that of
+    the members of the Royal Academy."--_Mr. Poland's Speech in the
+    "Missing Word" case._
+
+  Mr. Poland said, at Bow Street,
+    Choosing pictures thus imparts
+  Judgment good as that of those treat-
+    Ed as foremost in the arts.
+
+  Hitherto each paid his shilling
+    At the House of Burling_ton_,
+  Gazed at pictures, feeble, thrilling,
+    Bad or good, and wandered on--
+
+  Stared with awe-struck admiration
+    At "the Picture of the Year,"
+  Gained artistic education
+    In a stuffy atmosphere.
+
+  Then all changed; he paid his shilling
+    And he sent his coupon in
+  To a weekly paper, willing
+    To discriminate the tin;
+
+  And be wisely praised or blamed, yet
+    He knew nothing of design,
+  The BRIDGE of Bow Street claimed yet
+    One more shilling as a fine.
+
+  Oh, rejoice, Academicians!
+    Learned BRIDGE knew what to do;
+  Artisans or mechanicians
+    Might have grown as wise as you.
+
+  Which would sadden any just man,
+    And might make an angel weep--
+  DICKSEE distanced by a dustman,
+    STOREY staggered by a sweep!
+
+  BOUGHTON beaten by a baker,
+    Housemaids humbling helpless HOOK;
+  STONE surpassed by sausage-maker,
+    COOPER conquered by a cook!
+
+  CROWE or CROFTS crushed by a cow-boy,
+    MILLAIS made by milkmen mad,
+  PETTIE plucked by any ploughboy,
+    LEIGHTON licked by butcher's lad!
+
+  It effected all you care for,
+    But Sir JOHN has pulled you through;
+  Bold Bow-Street's Beak is, therefore,
+    No Bridge of Sighs for you
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"A NOTE ON THE APPRECIATION OF GOLD."--Send a five-pound note (verified
+by the Bank of England) to our office, and we will undertake to get it
+changed _immediately_, and thereupon to hand over to the Bearer, in
+exchange for the note, _two golden sovereigns, and one golden
+half-sovereign, ready cash_. This will show what is _our_ appreciation
+of gold.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: THE SKELETON AT THE FEAST.]
+
+"I confess it does seem to me that certain decisions made by a competent
+tribunal hare rendered it extremely doubtful whether there is a single
+one of the 670 gentlemen who now compose the House of Commons, who might
+not find himself, by some accident, unseated, if a full investigation
+were made into everything that had taken place in his constituency, say,
+during the ten years preceding his candidature."--_Mr. Balfour at
+Sheffield._
+
+_M.P. (of any Party you please), loquitur:--_
+
+  PHEW! It's all very fine, when you gather to dine,
+    And to blow off the steam, while you blow off your 'bacca,
+  (As the farmers of Aylesbury did, when their wine
+    Was sweetened with "news from the Straits of Malacca");
+  But things are much changed since the voters of Bucks
+    Flushed red with loud fun at the phrases of DIZZY,
+  And M.P.'s are dreadfully down on their lucks,
+    Since BALFOUR'S confounded "tribunals" got busy.
+
+  What precious stiff posers to loyal Primrosers
+    Are offered by Rochester, Walsall, and Hexham!
+  Platform perorators, post-prandial glosers,
+    Must find many points to perplex 'em and vex 'em.
+  It bothers a spouter who freely would flourish
+    Coat-tails and mixed tropes at political dinners,
+  When doubts of his safety he's driven to nourish,
+    Through publicans rash and (electoral) sinners.
+
+  Good lack, and good gracious! One may be veracious,
+    And look with disgust upon bribes and forced bias,
+  Yet owing to "Agents" more hot than sagacious,
+    _Appear_ as _Autolycus-cum_-ANANIAS.
+  One might just as soon be a Man-in-the-Moon,
+    Or hark back at once to the style of Old Sarum.
+  That Act (Corrupt Practices) may be a boon.
+    But the way they apply it seems most harum-scarum.
+
+  Should a would-be M.P. ask old ladies to tea,
+    Or invite male supporters to crumpets or cricket;
+  Should a snug Party Club prove a trifle too free,
+    Or give an equivocal "treat," or hat-ticket;
+  A seven years' nursing of Slopville-on-Slime,
+    A well-fought Election and Glorious Victory
+  (Crowed o'er by proud Party prints at the time)
+    May--lose you your Seat. It does seem contradictory.
+
+  Of course, my good friends, one would not say a word,
+    Against England's glory--Electoral Purity!
+  Suspect _me_ of slighting that boon? Too absurd!
+    But what good's a Seat without _some_ small security.
+  To fight tooth and nail, land a win, and then fail
+    Along of dishon--I mean o'er-zealous "Agents"--
+  Well, well, I don't wish at our Judges to rail,
+    But--putting it plainly--I fear it won't pay, gents.
+
+  'Tis hard to attend a political feast,
+    And strut like a peacock, and crow like a bantam,
+  Yet feel at one's back, like a blast from the east,
+    A be-robed and be-wigged and blood-curdling law phantom.
+  Stentorian cheers, and uproarious hear-hears,
+    Though welcome, won't banish the sense of "wet-blanket"
+  (That's INGOLDSBY'S rhyme), when Petition-bred fears
+    Conjure up a grim Skeleton (Judge) at the Banquet!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: SUCH A HAPPY FAMILY PARTY--AT CHRISTMAS.
+
+_Uncle John_ (_losing his money and his temper_). "NOW, JANE, DO ME A
+FAVOUR FOR ONCE, AND _DON'T_ SHOW YOUR HAND!"
+
+_Aunt Jane_ (_whose best Cards her Partner has invariably
+over-trumped_). "I CAN'T HELP IT. YOU SHOW _YOUR_ HANDS, AND I'M SURE
+_THEY_'RE NO BEAUTIES!" [_After this, there's a prospect of a very
+pleasant evening._]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE SHORTEST DAY.
+
+  SHORT verse
+    We need,
+  Most terse
+    Indeed,
+  That it--
+    This lay--
+  May fit
+    This day.
+  Short sight
+    Of sun.
+  Long night,
+    Begun
+  At four,
+    Sunshine
+  Once more
+    At nine.
+  A. M.
+    Meets eyes
+  Of them
+    Who rise
+  If no
+    Fog hide--
+  Then woe
+    Betide;
+  The day
+    That ought
+  To stay
+    So short
+  A space
+    Can't show
+  Its face
+    Below.
+  But when
+    It goes,
+  Why then
+    One knows
+  New Year
+    Will soon
+  Be here--
+    Then June,
+  So bright!
+    So sweet!
+  So light!
+    We'll greet
+  The day
+    That's long
+  With gay,
+    Glad song--
+
+  Excessively long-footed verse will undoubtedly characterise what
+           we say,
+  For LONGFELLOW'S longest lines skip along when we've long longed
+           for the Longest Day.
+
+             (_Signed_) TOUCHSTONE.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    MILITARY MOTTO FOR THE NEW SOUTH LONDON OPHTHALMIC HOSPITAL OPENED
+    LAST FRIDAY BY THE DUKE OF YORK.--"Eyes right!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    THE CHOICE OF BOOKS.
+
+  To various opinions the quidnuncs give voice,
+  But the best "choice of books" means--the books of your choice.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE LAST WORD.
+
+(_A Domestic Drama of the Day before Yesterday._)
+
+
+SCENE.--_The Breakfast Room at Linoleum Lodge, the suburban residence
+of_ SAMUEL STODGEFORD, Esq. Mr. _and_ Mrs. STODGEFORD, _their son_
+PARMENAS, _and daughters_ POMPILIA _and_ PRISCILLA, _discovered at
+breakfast._
+
+_Mr. Stodgeford._ We shall probably get it by the second post, and
+though the delay is--ah--to some extent, annoying, we must not allow
+ourselves to be unduly impatient. Personally, I regard these--ah--weekly
+competitions as chiefly valuable in providing an innocent form of
+domestic recreation, and an interesting example of the--ah--value of
+words.
+
+_Parmenas S._ The value of _one_ word, I should say, Father. Last week,
+as there were very few who guessed right, it amounted to a considerable
+sum.
+
+_Mr. S._ That is a stimulant to ingenuity, no doubt, with some minds,
+but let us put that aside. We feel some natural curiosity to know
+whether we have selected the missing adjective, and I see no reason
+myself to doubt that our united efforts will this time be crowned with
+success.
+
+_Pompilia._ It is almost impossible that it won't be _one_ of the two
+hundred and fifty we sent in.
+
+_Parmenas._ I drew up a list of synonyms which, I flatter myself, was
+practically exhaustive.
+
+_Priscilla._ I dreamt I heard a voice saying quite clearly in my ear,
+"Nonsensical! nonsensical!"--like that--so I sent it in the first thing
+next morning.
+
+_Mr. S._ These--ah--supernatural monitions are not vouchsafed to us
+without a purpose. It _may_ be "nonsensical."
+
+_Mrs. S._ The only two words _I_ could think of were, "absurd" and
+"idiotic," and I'm afraid they haven't much chance.
+
+_Mr. S._ I wouldn't say that, SOPHRONIA. It is not always the most
+appropriate epithet that--let me run over the paragraph again--where is
+last week's paper? Ah, I have it. (_He procures it and reads with
+unction._) "The lark, as has been frequently observed by the poets, is
+in the habit of ascending to high altitudes in the exercise of his vocal
+functions. Scientific meteorologists, it is true, do not consider that
+there is any immediate danger of a descent of the sky, but many
+bird-catchers of experience are of opinion that, should such a
+contingency happen, the number of these feathered songsters included in
+the catastrophe would, in all probability, be simply----" It might be
+"idiotic," of course, but I fancy "incalculable," or "appalling" would
+be nearer the mark.
+
+_Parmenas._ Too obvious, _I_ should say. If you had adopted a few more
+of the words I got from _Roget's Thesaurus_, we should have been safer.
+Sending in a word like "disgusting" was sheer waste of one-and-twopence!
+And as for POMPILIA, with her synonyms to "sensational," and PRISCILLA,
+with her rubbishy superstition, depend upon it, _they_'re no good!
+
+_Pompilia._ You think you know so much, because you've been to London
+University--but _we've_ been to a High School; so we're not absolute
+_idiots_. PARMENAS!
+
+_Priscilla._ And I'm sure people have dreamt which horse was going to
+win a race over and over again!
+
+_Mr. S._ Come, come, let us have none of these unseemly disputes! And,
+when you compare a literary competition with--ah--a mere gambling
+transaction, PRISCILLA, you do a grave injustice to us all. You forget
+that we have, all of us, worked hard for success; we have given our
+whole thoughts and time to the subject. I have stayed at home from the
+office day after day. Your mother has had no leisure for the cares of
+the household; your brother has suspended his studies for his
+approaching examination, and your elder sister her labours at the East
+End--on purpose to devote our combined intelligence to the subject. And
+are we to be told that we are no better than the brainless multitude who
+speculate on horse-racing! I am not _angry_, my child, I am
+only--(_Enter_ ROBERT, _the_ Page, _with a paper in a postal wrapper.)
+Tiddler's Miscellany_--ha, at last! Why didn't you bring it up before,
+Sir? You must have known it was important!
+
+_Robert._ Please, Sir, it's on'y just come, Sir.
+
+_Mr. S. (snatching the paper from him, and tearing it open; the other
+members of the family crowd round excitedly)._ Now we shall see! Where's
+the place? Confound the thing! Why can't they print the result in
+a----(_His face falls._) What are you waiting for, Sir? Leave the room!
+
+[_To_ ROBERT, _who has lingered about the sideboard._
+
+_Robert._ Beg pardon, Sir, but would you mind reading out the
+Word--'cause I'm----
+
+_The Family._ Read the Word, Papa, do!
+
+_Mr. S. (keeping the Journal)._ All in good time. (_Addressing_ ROBERT.)
+Am I to understand, Sir, that you have actually had the presumption to
+engage in this competition?--an uneducated young rascal like you!
+
+_Robert._ I didn't mean no harm, Sir, I sent in nothink--it was on'y a
+lark, Sir!
+
+_The Family (dancing with suspense)._ Oh, never mind ROBERT now,
+Father--do read out the Word!
+
+_Mr. S. (ignoring their anxiety)._ If you sent in nothing, Sir, so much
+the better. But, in case you should be tempted to such a piece of
+infatuation in future, let me tell you this by way of--ah--warning. I
+and my family, have, with every advantage that superior education and
+abilities can bestow, sent in, after prolonged and careful deliberation,
+no less than two hundred and fifty separate solutions, and not a single
+one of these solutions, Sir, proves to be the correct one!
+
+_The Family (collapsing on the nearest chairs)._ Oh, it can't be
+true--one of them _must_ be right!
+
+_Mr. S._ Unfortunately, they are not. I will read you the sentence as
+completed. _(Reads.)_ "Should such a contingency happen, the number of
+these feathered songsters included in the catastrophe would, in all
+probability, be simply--ah--_nought_!" Now I venture to assert that
+nothing short of--ah--absolute genius could possibly----(_To_ ROBERT.)
+What do you mean by interrupting me, Sir?
+
+_Robert._ Please, Sir, _I_ said nothink, Sir!
+
+_Pompilia._ Oh, what _does_ it matter? Give me the paper, Papa. _(She
+snatches it.)_ Oh, listen to this:--"The number of solutions sent in was
+five hundred thousand, which means that twenty-five thousand pounds
+remain for division. The only competitor who gave the correct solution
+was Mr. ROBERT CONKLING, of Linoleum Lodge, Camberwell...." _Oh!_ Why,
+that's _you_, ROBERT!
+
+_Robert._ Yes, Miss, I told you I said "Nothink," Miss. I'm sure if I'd
+thought----
+
+_Mr. S. (gasping)._ Twenty-five thousand pounds! Ah, ROBERT, I trust you
+will not forget that this piece of--ah--unmerited good fortune was
+acquired by you under this humble roof. Shake hands, my boy!
+
+_Pompilia._ Wait, Papa--don't shake hands till I've
+done--_(continuing)--_"Mr. CONKLING, however, having elected to
+disregard our conditions, requiring the solution to be written out in
+full, and to express the word "Nought" by a cipher, we cannot consider
+him legally entitled to the prize----"
+
+_Mr. S._ How dare you use my private address for your illiterate
+attempts, Sir?
+
+_Prisc. (seizing the paper)._ Why don't you read it all?----"We are
+prepared, nevertheless, to waive this informality, and a cheque for the
+full amount of twenty-five thousand pounds, payable to his order, will
+be forwarded to Mr. CONKLING accordingly----"
+
+_Mr. S._ Well, ROBERT, you deserve it, I must say--shake
+hands!--I--ah--_mean_ it.
+
+_Robert._ Thankee, Sir, I'm sure--it was Cook and JANE 'elped me, Sir,
+but--(_dolefully_)--I sold my chanst to the butcher-boy, for tuppence
+and a mouth-orgin, Sir.
+
+[Illustration: "I sold my Chanst to the Butcher-boy!"]
+
+_Mr. S._ You unspeakable young idiot! But there, you will know better
+another time; and now go out at once, and order five hundred copies of
+_Tiddler_--a periodical which offers such intellectual
+and--ah--substantial advantages, deserves some encouragement. (_Exit_
+ROBERT.) Now Mother, PARMENAS, girls--all of you, let us set to work,
+and see--just for the--ah--fun of the thing--if we can't be more
+fortunate with the _next_ competition. We'll have Cook and JANE,
+and--ah--ROBERT in to help; the housework can look after itself for once
+... what is it _now_, PRISCILLA?
+
+_Prisc. (faintly)._ I've just seen this. (_Reads._) "In consequence of
+the recent decision at Bow Street, those who send solutions for this,
+and any future competitions, will not be required to forward any
+remittance with their coupons----"
+
+_Mr. S._ (_approvingly_). An admirable arrangement--puts a stop at once
+to any pernicious tendency to--ah--speculation!
+
+_Prisc._ (_continuing_)--"and successful competitors must, we fear, be
+content with no other reward than that of honourable mention."
+
+_Mr. S._ Here, send after ROBERT, somebody! It's scandalous that the
+precious time of a whole family should be frittered away in these
+unedifying and--ah--idiotic competitions. I will not allow another
+_Tiddler_ to enter my house!
+
+_Robert_ (_entering with his arms full of "Tiddlers"_). Please, Sir, I
+brought a 'undred, Sir, and they'll send up the rest as soon as ever
+they----Oh Lor, Sir, I on'y done as I was told, Sir!
+
+[_He is pounced upon, severely cuffed by a righteously indignant family,
+and sent flying in a whirlwind of tattered "Tiddlers," as the Scene
+closes._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+LAYS OF MODERN HOME.
+
+THE MUFFIN MAN.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+  Ah! welcome, through autumnal mist,
+  For each returning ruralist,
+  Waif metropolitan, to list
+              Thy tinkle unto.
+
+  No sound of seas or bees or trees
+  Can Londoners so truly please--
+  The cheapest epicure with ease
+              Thy dainties run to.
+
+  They need not, like the fruits on sticks,
+  The fruits Venetian boyhood licks,
+  A voice with operatic tricks
+              Their praise to trumpet.
+
+  The simple bell shall, fraught with sense
+  Of teapot, urn, and hearth intense.
+  Best herald thee and thy commensurable
+              crumpet.
+
+  Lives there a cit with soul so dead
+  Who never to himself hath said,
+  "This is my crisp, my native-bred,
+              My British muffin!"?
+
+  Let picturesque Autolyci
+  Their cloying foreign dainties cry;
+  _I_ don't see much to buy, not I,
+              Such messy stuff in!
+
+  Mysterious vagrant, dost prepare
+  Thyself that inexpensive fare;
+  Thyself, partake of it--and _where?_--
+              The boon thou sellest?
+
+  'Tis Home, where'er it be; thy load
+  Can cheer the pauper's dark abode,
+  And lack of it, with gloom corrode
+              The very swellest.
+
+  There are who deem it vulgar fun
+  For dressy bachelors to run
+  Themselves to stop thee; I'm not one
+              So nicely silly:
+
+  _I_'m not ashamed to track thy way,
+  And test the triumphs of thy tray,
+  And bring them back in paper, say,
+              To Piccadilly.
+
+  Yes, heedless of a gibing town,
+  To hand them PHYLLIS, sit me down,
+  And wait, till they come up in brown
+              And glossy sections.
+
+  Then, brew my cup--the best Ceylon--
+  And, bidding care and chill begone,
+  Concentre heart and mouth upon
+              Thy warm perfections.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+MONTECARLOTTERY.
+
+    [It remains true that for those who want a brief and exhilarating
+    change, and are glad to reap for the nonce the harvest of a quiet
+    eye, there are spots within the borders of England which, both in
+    climate and in scenery, can vie with the proudest and most vaunted
+    watering-places of the Sunny South."--_Daily Paper._]
+
+_Damon on the Riviera, to Pythias at Torquay._--"Here I am, by the blue
+Mediterranean! At least, the attendant of the sleeping-car says the
+Mediterranean is somewhere about, only, as a violent rain-storm is going
+on, we can't see it. Very tired by journey. Feel that, after all, you
+were probably right in deciding to try the coast of Devonshire this
+winter, instead of Riviera."
+
+_Pythias at Torquay, to Damon at Nice._--"Coast of Devonshire
+delightful, so far. Pleasant run down from London by G. W. R.--only five
+hours. Thought of and pitied your crossing to Calais, and long
+night-and-day journey after. You should just see our geraniums and
+fuchsias, growing out-of-doors in winter! Mind and tell me in your next
+how the olives and orange-trees look."
+
+_Damon to Pythias._--"Olives all diseased--have not seen an orange-tree
+yet--there is my reply to the query in your last. Hitherto I have not
+had much opportunity of seeing anything, as the mistral has been
+blowing, and it has been rather colder than England in March. Wretched
+cold in my head. No decent fires--only pine-cones and logs to burn,
+instead of coal! Wish I were at Torquay with you!"
+
+_Pythias to Damon._--"Sorry to hear that Riviera is such a failure. More
+pleased than ever with Devonshire. Glorious warm sunshine to-day.
+Natives say they hardly ever have frost. Children digging on sand on
+Christmas Eve--too hot for great-coat. Rain comes down occasionally, but
+then it dries up in no time. Quite a little Earthly Paradise. Glad I
+found it out."
+
+_Later from Damon._--"Riviera better. Mistral gone. Sun warm, and have
+seen my first orange-tree. Have also found that there's a place called
+Monte Carlo near Nice. Have you ever heard of it? There's a Casino
+there, where they have free concerts. Off there now!"
+
+_Later from Pythias._--"After all, Devonshire _is_ sometimes a little
+damp. Yes, I _have_ heard of Monte Carlo Casino, and I wish there was
+anything of the sort at Torquay. Walks and drives pretty, but
+monotonous. Hills annoying. Still, evidently far superior to any part of
+Riviera.
+
+_Still later from Damon._--"Glorious place, Monte Carlo. Superb grounds!
+Scenery lovely, and Casinery still lovelier! And, between ourselves, I
+have already more than paid for expenses of my trip by my winnings at
+the Tables. No time for more just now. Must back the red!"
+
+_Reply to above from Pythias._--"Very sorry to hear you have been
+playing at the Tables. Sure to end in ruin. By the bye, what system do
+you use? The subject interests me merely as a mathematical problem, of
+course. Wish _I_ could pay expenses of my Devonshire hotel so easily.
+But then one ought to have _some_ reward for visiting such a dreary
+place as the Riviera, with its Mistrals, and diseased olive-trees, and
+all that."
+
+_Latest from Damon._--"Since writing my last letter, my views of the
+Riviera have altered. The climate, I find, does not suit me. Sun doesn't
+shine as much as I expected--not at night, for instance. Then the
+existence of an olive disease anywhere near is naturally very
+_dégoûtant_ (as they say here). And the Casino at Monte Carlo is simply
+an organised swindle. It ought to be put down! After staking ten times
+in succession on "Zero," and doubling my stake each time, I was
+absolutely cleared out! Only just enough money to take me home. Shall
+follow your example, and try Torquay for the rest of the winter."
+
+_Latest from Pythias._--"Just a hasty line to say--_don't_ come to
+Torquay! I am leaving it. Since I last wrote, my views of Devonshire
+have also altered. Can't conceal from myself that the climate is a
+mistake. Damp, dull, and depressing. Your account of Monte Carlo--_not_
+the Casino, of course--so enchanting, that I've determined to try it.
+Just off to London to catch '_train de luxe!_'"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE MISSING WORD.
+
+(_By a much-badgered Barmaid._)
+
+  Each boobyish bar-lounger calls me "dear,"
+    And "Misses" me in manner most absurd.
+  I should not miss _him_! But the boss, I fear,
+  Would miss his custom; so I still must hear
+    His odious "Miss-ing" word!
+  But oh! I'd sooner bear a monkey's kisses,
+  Than some of these cheap mashers' mincing
+    "Misses"!
+  And there is one young ape!--I'd stand "two d"
+  Could I hit him each time he "Misses" me!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+QUEER QUERIES.
+
+[Illustration: Notes]
+
+AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL.--I should be glad to know whether it would be
+advisable for me to write a book of "Reminiscences," as I see is now the
+fashion. My life has been chiefly passed in a moorland-village in
+Yorkshire, so that it has not been very eventful, and I have never
+written anything before; still the public might like to hear my opinions
+on things in general, and I think I could make the anecdote of how our
+kitchen chimney once caught fire--which would be the most important
+incident chronicled--rather thrilling. Among interesting and eminent
+persons I have met, and of whom I could give some account in my
+forthcoming work, are Mr. GLADSTONE (who passed through our station in a
+train going at fifty miles an hour while I was on the platform), Lord
+SALISBURY whom I met (under similar circumstances, and the back of whose
+head I feel confident that I actually saw) and the LORD CHIEF JUSTICE of
+England, who ordered an Usher to remove me from his Court at the Assizes
+as I was (incorrectly) alleged to be snoring. I should be glad to hear
+of any leading Publisher who would be likely to offer a good price for
+such a book.--RUSTICUS EXPECTANS.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: PRIVATE THEATRICALS. A REHEARSAL.
+
+_The Captain._ "AT THIS STAGE OF THE PROCEEDINGS I'VE GOT TO KISS YOU,
+LADY GRACE. WILL YOUR HUSBAND MIND, DO YOU THINK?"
+
+_Lady Grace._ "OH NO! IT'S FOR A _CHARITY_, YOU KNOW!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"CHRISTMAS IS COMING!"
+
+  "Christmas _is_ coming!" Pleasant truth
+    To all--save the dyspeptic!
+  To most in whom some smack of youth
+    Hath influence antiseptic.
+  Pessimists prate, and prigs be-rate
+    The time of mirth and holly;
+  But why should time-soured sages "slate"
+    The juvenile and jolly?
+  "Though some churls at our mirth repine"
+    (As old GEORGE WITHER put it),
+  We'll whiff our weed, and sip our wine,
+    And watch the youngsters foot it.
+  They did so in quaint WITHER'S time,
+    When wassail-bowls were humming,
+  And still girls laugh, and church-bells chime,
+    Because--"Christmas is coming!"
+
+  "Christmas is coming!" Let him bring
+    Mirth to the toiling million.
+  What is't he bears--a gracious thing--
+    Behind him on the pillion?
+  Her snowy garb, and smile benign,
+    Make sunshine in dark places;
+  The gentlest, rarest, most divine
+    Of all the Christian graces.
+  Her eyes are full of loving light,
+    Her hands with gifts are laden;
+  True Yule-tide Almoner, of right,
+    This _Una_-pure sweet maiden!
+  She smiles on all, full-feeding mirth,
+    Young love, mad motley mumming;
+  There is loss dearth of joy on earth,
+    Because--"Christmas is coming!"
+
+  A Merry Christmas? Round each room
+    That's writ in leaf and berry;
+  But there be those, alas! to whom
+    There's mockery in the "Merry."
+  Merry?--when sorrow loads the heart,
+    And nothing loads the larder?
+  In the world's play the poor man's part
+    At Yule-tide seems yet harder.
+  Good cheer to him who hungry goes,
+    And mirth to her who sorrows,
+  Lend bitter chill to Christmas snows.
+    Small joy care's bondsman borrows.
+  From jollity he may not share,
+    Despair is darkly drumming
+  At his dull breast, whose hearth won't flare,
+    Because--"Christmas is coming!"
+
+  Good Greybeard Sire, you would not tire
+    Gay youth with tales of trouble;
+  World-gladness is your heart's desire,
+    And so you're--riding double!
+  Pleasant to see dear Charity
+    Close pillion-poised behind you,
+  Eager to bid her gifts fly free,
+    We're happy so to find you.
+  Ride on, and scatter largesse wide!
+    Sore need is still no rarity,
+  For all our Progress, Power, and Pride,
+    We can't dispense with Charity.
+  Ride on, kind pair, and may the air
+    With happiness be humming,
+  And poverty shake off despair,
+    Because--"Christmas is coming!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    RATHER TOO PREMATURE.--We see "_Christmas Leaves_" advertised
+    everywhere in glaring colours. This announcement is too early.
+    "_Christmas Comes_," it should be, and then, any time after the
+    25th, will be appropriate for the announcement of his departure.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE PORTER'S SLAM.
+
+    [A meeting at Manchester has raised a protest against the nuisance
+    caused by the needlessly loud "slamming" of railway carriage doors.]
+
+  The porter has a patent "slam,"
+    Which smites one like a blow,
+  And everywhere that porter comes,
+    That "slam" is sure to go.
+  It strikes upon the tym-pa-num
+    Like shock of dynamite;
+  By day it nearly makes you dumb--
+    It deafens you at night.
+  When startled by that patent "slam,"
+    The pious pas-sen-jare,
+  Says something else that ends in "am,"
+    (Or he has patience rare.)
+  Not only does it cause a shock,
+    But--Manchester remarks--
+  "Depreciates the rolling stock,"
+    Well, that is rather larks!
+  _That_'s not the point. The porter's slam
+    Conduces to insanity,
+  And, though as mild as MARY's lamb,
+    Drives men to loud profanity.
+  If Manchester the "slam" can stay
+    By raising of a stir,
+  All railway-travellers will say,
+    "Bully for Man-ches-ter!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    _Kelly's Directory for_ 1893.--Invaluable, and considered as
+    "portable property" (to quote _Pip's_ friend), admirably suited for
+    the pocket of any individual who should happen to be about
+    twenty-five feet high. _How to use it?_ Why--see inside--it is full
+    of "Directions."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: "CHRISTMAS IS COMING!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+MIXED NOTIONS.--No. II. UGANDA.
+
+SCENE--_As before, a Railway-carriage in a suburban morning train to
+London. Persons also as before--namely, two_ Well-informed Men, _an_
+Inquirer, _and an_ Average Man.
+
+_First Well-informed Man_ (_laying down his paper_). So the Government's
+going to stick to Uganda, after all. I had a notion, from the beginning,
+they wouldn't be allowed to scuttle.
+
+_Average Man._ Ah--I don't know that I'm particularly enthusiastic about
+Uganda.
+
+_Inquirer._ Why not?
+
+_A. M._ What are we going to get out of it?--that's the question. We go
+interfering all over the world, grabbing here, and grabbing there,
+merely in order to keep other people out; and then some nigger King,
+with a cold in his head, sneezes as he passes the Union Jack. That's an
+insult to the flag, of course; so off goes an expedition, and, before
+you know where you are, we've spent about ten millions, and added a few
+thousand acres of swamp to the Empire. Why can't we leave things alone?
+Haven't we got enough?
+
+_First W. I. M._ That's all very well, I daresay; but you forget that
+the Berlin Conference made Uganda one of our spheres of influence.
+
+_Inquirer._ When was that?
+
+_First W. I. M._ Why, just after the Franco-Prussian War. They all met
+in Berlin to settle up everything--and we got Uganda.
+
+_Inquirer._ I thought it was later than that, somehow.
+
+_First W. I. M._ Well, anyhow, it was somewhere about that time. I don't
+pledge myself to a year or two. But what I say about Uganda is this.
+We're there--or rather the Company is--and we should simply disgrace
+ourselves before the whole world if we chucked up the sponge now. And,
+if we did, we should have France or Germany nipping in directly.
+
+_Second W. I. M._ They can't.
+
+_First W. I. M._ Why not?
+
+_Second W. I. M._ Why not! Because it's our sphere of influence whatever
+happens.
+
+_Inquirer_ (_timidly_). I'm afraid you'll think me very ignorant, but I
+don't quite know what a "sphere of influence" is. I've read a lot about
+it lately, but I can't quite make it out.
+
+_Second W. I. M._ (_condescendingly_). Yes, I know it's deuced difficult
+to keep up with these new notions, unless you're in the way of hearing
+all about them. Spheres of influence mean--well, don't you know, they
+mean some country that's not quite yours, but it's more yours than
+anybody else's, and if anybody else comes into it, you're allowed to
+make a protocol of it. Besides, it gives you a right to the Hinterland,
+you know.
+
+_Inquirer_ (_dubiously_). Ah, I see. What's the Hinterland?
+
+_Second W. I. M._ (_stumped_). I fancy it's about the most fertile part
+of Africa. (_To First W. I. M._) Isn't it?
+
+_First W. I. M._ Yes, that's it. It's the German for Highlands.
+
+_Inquirer._ Of course, so it is. I might have thought of that.
+
+_Average Man_ (_to First W. I. M._). Seems to me you've none of you got
+hold of the right point. What I want to know is, does Uganda pay? LUGARD
+says it don't; the Company hasn't made anything of it, and they've got
+to go whether they like it or not; though I daresay they're deuced glad
+to be out of the hole. But, if it don't pay, what on earth are we going
+to do with it?
+
+_Second W I. M._ (_triumphantly reinforcing him_). Yes, what on earth
+are we to do with it?
+
+_First W. I. M._ (_calmly, but contemptuously_). Ah! I see you're both
+little-England men. From your point of view, I daresay you're right
+enough. But I'm one of those who believe that we must stick on wherever
+we've planted the flag. I agree with MOLTKE, that the nation that gives
+up is in a state of decay.
+
+_Second W. I. M._ It wasn't MOLTKE who said that; it was VICTOR HUGO, or
+(_after a pause_) Lord PALMERSTON.
+
+_First W. I. M._ Well, it doesn't matter who said it. The point is, it's
+true. Besides, what are you going to do about the slaves and the
+Missionaries?
+
+_Average Man._ Oh, bother the Missionaries!
+
+_First W. I. M._ It's all very well to say "bother the Missionaries!"
+but that won't get you any further. They're our fellow-creatures after
+all, and what's more, they're our fellow-countrymen, so we've got to
+look after them.
+
+_Average Man._ I should let the whole lot of Missionaries fight it out
+together. They only keep quarrelling amongst themselves, and trying to
+bag one another's converts; and then France and England get involved.
+
+_Inquirer._ By the way, where is Uganda, exactly?
+
+_First W. I. M._ Just behind Zanzibar--or somewhere about there. You can
+get to it best from Mashonaland. Didn't you see that RHODES said he was
+going to make a telegraph-line through there? It used to belong to the
+SULTAN OF ZANZIBAR. Don't you remember?
+
+_Inquirer._ Of course; so it did.
+
+[_Train draws up at Terminus._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: A SALVE FOR THE CONSCIENCE.
+
+_Vegetarian Professor._ "NO, MADAM, NOT EVEN FISH. I CANNOT SANCTION THE
+DESTRUCTION OF LIFE. THESE LITTLE ANIMALS, FOR INSTANCE, WERE BUT
+YESTERDAY SWIMMING HAPPILY IN THE SEA."
+
+_Mrs. O'Laughlan._ "OH BUT, PROFESSOR, JUST THINK IT'S THE FIRST TIME
+THE POOR LITTLE THINGS HAVE EVER BEEN REALLY WARM IN THEIR LIVES!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"'TWAS WHISPERED IN HEAVEN, 'TWAS MUTTERED IN H----." _À propos_ of the
+much-discussed article written by Dr. ST. GEORGE MIVART in _The
+Nineteenth Century_, on "Happiness in Hell."--begging pardon for
+uttering a word "unmentionable to ears polite,"--our old friend 'ARRY
+writes thusly:--"Sir,--We 'ave all of us been familiar for years with
+the well-known 'Mivart's 'Otel.' If the clever Professor is correct,
+this name ought to be changed, as there ain't no such a place; and, in
+future, when alluded to, it ought to be called _Mivart's Cool 'el._ Am I
+right?
+
+    "Yours truly, THE 'ARRY OPAGITE."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    In "Lucky Shoes," baskets, and in other dainty trifles, does RIMMEL
+    arrange his beautiful bottles of scent. RIMMEL is not a Head Centre,
+    but our Chief Scenter, "and," exclaims Mr. WAGSTAFF, the Unabashed,
+    "what a great day will be his Scentenary!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    "THE SILENT BATTLE."--See this charming piece at the Criterion. Of
+    course it is brought out by Mr. CHARLES WYNDHAM in illustration of
+    the old proverb, "_Acts, not words._"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: HAPPY AND NOVEL COMBINATION! THE HARMONIOUS CHRISTMAS
+"PARTY."]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+CHOOSING CHRISTMAS TOYS.
+
+(_A Sketch in the Lowther Arcade._)
+
+
+_Between the sloping banks of toys, and under a dense foliage of
+coloured rosettes, calico banners, and Japanese-lanterns, the congested
+Stream of Custom oozes slowly along, with an occasional overflow into
+the backwaters of the shops behind, while the Stall-keepers keep up a
+batrachian and almost automatic croak of invitation._
+
+_Fond Grandmother._ So you've chosen a box of soldiers, have you,
+FRANKY?--very well. Now what shall we get for little ELSIE and Baby?
+
+_Franky (promptly)._ Another box of soldiers would do nicely for ELSIE,
+Grandmamma, and--_I_ know, a fort for Baby!
+
+_Grandm. (doubtfully)._ But they're such _little_ tots--they won't know
+how to play with them.
+
+_Franky._ Oh, but I can _teach_ them, you know, Grandmamma.
+
+_Grandm._ That's right--I like to see a boy kind to his little sisters.
+
+[_She adopts_ Master FRANKY'S _disinterested suggestion._
+
+_A Mother._ Now, PERCY, it's all nonsense--you _can't_ want any more
+toys--those you've got are as good as new. (_To her Friend._) He's such
+a boy for taking care of his things--he'll hardly trust his toys out of
+their boxes, and won't allow anyone else to _touch_ them!
+
+_The Friend._ Dear little fellow--then I'm sure he _deserves_ to be
+given a new toy for being so careful!
+
+_The Mother._ Well, he'll give me no peace till I _do_ give him
+something. I know--but mind this, PERCY, it's only to keep you quiet,
+and I'm not going to buy EDDIE anything. _(To Friend.)_ He gives all
+_his_ things away as it is! [Master PERCY _takes both these valuable
+moral lessons to heart_.
+
+_Mrs. Stilton (to her less prosperous Sister-in-law_, Mrs. BLOOMOLD).
+Nonsense, VINNIE, I won't _hear_ of it! REGGIE has more toys already
+than he knows what to do with!
+
+_Mrs. Bloom. (apologetically)._ Of course, my dear SOPHIA, I know your
+children are born to every----but still, I have no one but myself
+_now_, you know--and if I _might_--it would be such a _pleasure_!
+
+_Mrs. Stilton._ I have already told you there is not the slightest
+occasion for your spending your money in any such foolish manner. I hope
+that is enough.
+
+_Mrs. Bloom._ I'm sure he would like one of these little
+water-carts--now _wouldn't_ you, REGGIE? [REGGIE _assents shyly_.
+
+_Mrs. Stilton._ Buy him one, by all means--he will probably take the
+colour out of my new carpets with it--but, of course, _that_'s of no
+consequence to _you_!
+
+_Mrs. Bloom._ Oh dear, I _quite_ forgot your beautiful carpets. No, to
+be sure, that might----but one of those little butcher's shops,
+now!--they're really _quite_ cheap!
+
+_Mrs. S._ _I_ always thought cheapness was a question of what a person
+could _afford_.
+
+_Mrs. Bloom._ But I _can_ afford it, dear SOPHIA--thanks to dear JOHN'S
+bounty, and--and _yours_.
+
+_Mrs. S._ You mustn't thank _me_. _I_ had nothing to do with it. I
+warned JOHN at the time that it would only----and it seems I was right.
+And REGGIE has a butcher's shop--a really good one--already. In fact, I
+couldn't tell you what he _hasn't_ got!
+
+_Reggie._ _I_ can, though, Aunt VINNIE. I haven't got a train, for _one_
+thing! (_To his Mother, as she drags him on._) I _should_ like a little
+tin train, to go by clockwork on rails so. Do let Auntie----what's she
+staying behind for?
+
+_Mrs. Bloom. (catching them up, and thrusting a box into_ REGGIE'S
+_hands)._ There, dear boy, there's your train--with Aunt VINNIE'S love!
+(REGGIE _opens the box, and discovers a wooden train_.) What's the
+matter, darling? Isn't it----?
+
+_Mrs. S._ He had rather set his heart on a clockwork one with
+rails--which I was thinking of getting for him--but I am sure he's very
+much obliged to his Aunt all the same--_aren't_ you, REGINALD?
+
+_Reggie (with a fortunate inspiration)._ Thank you _ever_ so much,
+Auntie! And I like this train better than a tin one--because all the
+doors open really--it's _exactly_ what I wanted!
+
+_Mrs. S._ That's so like REGGIE--he never says anything to hurt people's
+feelings if he can possibly help it.
+
+_Mrs. B. (with meek ambiguity)._ Ah, dear SOPHIA, you set him such an
+_example_, you see! (REGGIE _wonders why she squeezes his hand so_.)
+
+[Illustration: "Er--I want a Toy of some sort--for a _Child_, don't you
+know!"]
+
+_A Vague Man (to Saleswoman)._ Er--I want a toy of some sort--for a
+_child_, don't you know. (_As if he might require it for an elderly
+person._) At least, it's not _exactly_ a child--it can _talk_, and all
+that.
+
+_Salesw._ Will you step inside, Sir? We've a large assortment within to
+select from. Is it for a boy or a girl?
+
+_The Vague Man._ It's a boy--that is, its name's EVELYN--of course,
+that's a girl's name too; but it had better be some thing that
+doesn't--I mean something it can't----[_He runs down._
+
+_Salesw._ I _quite_ understand, Sir. One of these little 'orses and
+carts are a very nice present for a child--(_with languid
+commendation_)--the little 'orse takes out and all.
+
+_The V. M._ Um--yes--but I want something more--a different _kind_ of
+thing altogether.
+
+_Salesw._ We sell a great many of these rag-dolls; all the clothes take
+off and on.
+
+_The V. M._ Isn't that rather----and then, for a boy, eh?
+
+_Salesw._ P'raps a box of wooden soldiers _would_ be a more suitable toy
+for a boy, certainly.
+
+_The V. M._ Soldiers, eh?--yes--but you see, it might turn out to be a
+girl after all--and then----
+
+_Salesw._ I see, you want something that would do equally well for
+either. _Here_'s a toy now. (_She brings out a team of little tin swans
+on wheels._) You fix a stick in the end--so--and wheel it in front of
+you, and all the little swans go up and down.
+
+[_She wheels it up and down without enthusiasm._
+
+_The V. M. (inspecting it feebly)._ Oh--the swans go up and down, eh? It
+isn't quite--but very likely it won't--May as well have that as
+something else--Yes, you can send it to--let me see--is it Hampstead or
+Notting Hill they're living at now? (_To the_ Saleswoman, _who naturally
+cannot assist him._) No, of course, _you_ wouldn't know. Never mind,
+I'll take it with me--don't trouble to wrap it up!
+
+[_He carries it off--to forget it promptly in a hansom._
+
+_A Genial Uncle (entering with Nephews and Nieces)._ Plenty to choose
+from here, eh? Look about and see what you'd like best.
+
+_Jane (the eldest, sixteen, and "quite a little woman")._ I'm sure they
+would much rather _you_ chose for them, Uncle!
+
+_Uncle._ Bless me, _I_ don't know what boys and girls like
+nowadays--they must choose for themselves!
+
+_Salesw. (wearily)._ Perhaps one of the young gentlemen would like a
+dredging-machine? The handle turns, you see, and all the little buckets
+go round the chain and take up sand or mud--or there's a fire-engine,
+_that's_ a nice toy, throws a stream of real water.
+
+[TOMMY, _aged eleven, is charmed with the dredging-machine, while the
+fire-engine finds favour in the eyes of_ BOBBY, _aged nine._
+
+_Jane (thoughtfully)._ I'm afraid the dredging-machine is rather a
+_messy_ toy, Uncle, and the fire-engine wouldn't do at all, either--it
+would be sure to encourage them to play with fire. BOBBY, if you say
+"blow!" once more, I shall tell Mother. Uncle is the best judge of
+what's suitable for you!
+
+_Uncle._ Well, there's something in what you say, JENNY. We must see if
+we can't find something better, that's all.
+
+_Salesw._ I've a little Toy-stige, 'ere--with scenes and characters in
+"_Richard Cured o' Lyin'_" complete and ready for acting--how would that
+do?
+
+[TOMMY _and_ BOBBY _cheer up visibly at this suggestion._
+
+_Jane._ I _don't_ think Mother would like them to have _that_, Uncle--it
+might give them a _taste_ for theatres, you know!
+
+_Uncle._ Ha--so it might--very thoughtful of you, JANE--Mustn't get in
+your Mother's bad books; never do! What's in these boxes? soldiers? How
+about these, eh, boys? [_The boys are again consoled._
+
+_Jane (gently)._ They're getting _rather_ too big for such babyish
+things as soldiers, Uncle! I tell you what _I_ think--if you got a nice
+puzzle-map for TOMMY--he's so backward in his Geography--and a drawing
+slate for BOBBY, who's getting on so nicely with his drawing, and a
+little work-box--not an _expensive_ one, of course--for WINNIE, that
+would be _quite_----
+
+[_These sisterly counsels are rewarded by ungrateful and rebellious
+roars._
+
+_Uncle._ TOMMY, did I hear you address your sister as a "beast"?
+Come--come! And what are you all turning on the waterworks for, eh?
+Strikes me, JANE, you haven't _quite_ hit off their tastes!
+
+_Jane (virtuously)._ I have only told you what I know Mother would
+_wish_ them to have, Uncle; and, even if I _am_ to have my ankles kicked
+for it, I'm sure I'm right!
+
+_Uncle._ Always a consolation, my dear JENNY. I'm sure no nephew of
+_mine_ would kick his sister, except by the merest accident--so let's
+say no more of that. But it's no use getting 'em what they don't like;
+so suppose we stick to the fire-engine, and the other concern--theatre
+is it, JOHNNY?--Very well--and don't you get _me_ into trouble over 'em,
+that's all. And WINNIE would like a doll, eh?--that's all right. Now
+everybody's provided for--except JANE!
+
+_Jane (frostily)._ Thank you, Uncle--but you seem to forget I'm not
+_exactly_ a child! [_She walks out of the shop with dignity._
+
+_Uncle._ Hullo! Put my foot in it again! But we can't leave JENNY out of
+it--_can_ we? Must get her a present of some sort over the way.... Here,
+TOMMY, my boy, you can tell me something she'd like.
+
+_Bobby (later--to_ TOMMY). What did you tell Uncle to get for JANE?
+
+_Tommy (with an unholy chuckle)._ Why, a box with one of those
+puff-things in it. Don't you know how we caught her powdering her nose
+with Mother's? And Uncle _got_ her one too! _Won't_ she be shirty just!
+
+[_They walk out in an ecstasy of anticipation, as Scene closes._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+MR. PUNCH'S Paragraphist says, "he was never good at dates," not even
+when served in dishes, for they're dry at the best; but, of the very
+newest and best kind of Date Cards, MARCUS WARD & Co. have a capital
+selection. Among them the _Grandfather's Clock_ makes a pretty screen,
+and, being a clock, is, of course, always up to the time of day.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.
+
+    The Baron's Diarist and Date Examiner makes the following exhaustive
+    notes:--first that Mr. C. LETTS describes some of his _Pocket
+    Diaries_ as "The Improved." There is nothing so good but what it
+    could be better. Lett's admit this, and be satisfied with the latest
+    edition of Letts' Annuals, which are prizes, though, until Jan. 1,
+    blanks.
+
+    _The Paradise of the North_, by DAVID LAWSON JOHNSTONE. When a
+    gentleman chooses the North Pole as a Paradise, he must be allowed
+    any amount of Latitude and Longitude. This explorer leaves his
+    CHAMBERS (the Publishers of that ilk) in order to get out of the
+    world by the coldest route.
+
+    A note on INNES & Co. "Innes" has several Outs this season. Cheery
+    name for a Christmas Publisher, "Innes." We take our ease at our
+    Innes, and we read with pleasure their dainty books called,
+    _Bartlemy's Child_, by FRANCES COMPTON, a very pretty story. L. B.
+    WALFORD (the authoress of _Mr. Smith_) condescends to write _For
+    Grown-Up Children_, a number of delightful tales.
+
+    Messrs. OSGOOD as good as ever. Why not follow up their _Bret Harte
+    Birthday Book_ (most Harte-tistically got up) with a _Sweet-Heart
+    Birthday Book?_ Madame VAN DE VELDE has compiled this. Our
+    sparklingest Baronite exclaims, "Velde done!"
+
+    Thanks to MARCUS WARD & Co. for _The Cottar's Saturday Night_, by
+    ROBBIE BURNS. "Oh, wad some friend the giftie gi'e us!"--as anyone
+    who would like this for a Christmas present may say, adapting the
+    poet to his purpose.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: The Baron and his Christmas Books.]
+
+"A most sweet story! A most charming story!!" gurgled the Baron, as,
+with sobs in his inner voice, talking to himself, he finished the
+penultimate chapter of _Dolly_. "Now, Mrs. BURNETT, if you dare to kill
+your heroine, I swear I'll never forgive you, and never read another of
+your fatally-fascinating books." The Baron trembled as he commenced the
+last chapter of the simplest, most natural, most touching, and most
+exquisitely-told story he has read for many a day. How would it end? A
+few lines sufficed. "Bless you, Mrs. BURNETT!" snivelled the Baron, not
+ashamed of dabbing his eyes with his kerchief. "Bless you, Ma'am! You
+have let 'em live! May your new book go to countless editions! May it be
+another _Little Lord Fauntleroy_, and may you reap a golden reward for
+this, your masterpiece of simple work, your latest story--_Dolly!_" The
+Baron is bound ("bound in morocco" as the slaves were, poor wretches!)
+to add that he wishes it had not been illustrated, for, as good wine
+needs no bush, so a perfect story, such as is this, needs no
+illustration; nay, is rather injured by it than not. There is only one
+small item of common-place in it, and that is making the would-be
+seducer a married man. Of course, to prove him so was the easiest and
+shortest way of saving his vain and feather-headed little victim.
+Perhaps an alternative would have involved complication, and might have
+marred the natural simplicity of the story. So critically the Baron
+states his one very small objection, and reverts with the utmost
+pleasure to the hours he spent over the tale, absorbed in every page, in
+every line of it; and herewith doth he, not only most strongly, but most
+earnestly recommend everyone to procure this book (published by E. WARNE
+& Co.), for it is one that can be and must be given a place of honour by
+the side of DICKENS and THACKERAY, to be read again and again, here a
+bit and there a bit, when other works of fiction now enjoying a greater
+literary reputation (though 'twould be difficult to name them), shall be
+relegated to the lowest shelves of books that have had their day.
+"_Dixi! Scripsi!_" quoth THE LEARNED BARON DE BOOK-WORMS.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+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, Volume
+103, December 24, 1892, by Various
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH ***
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+  </head>
+<body>
+
+
+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 103,
+December 24, 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, Volume 103, December 24, 1892
+
+Author: Various
+
+Editor: Francis Burnand
+
+Release Date: January 11, 2007 [EBook #20338]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by V. L. Simpson, Malcolm Farmer and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+
+<h1>PUNCH,<br /> OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.</h1>
+<h2>VOL. 103.</h2>
+<hr class="full" />
+<h2>DECEMBER 24, 1892.</h2>
+<hr class="full" />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span></p>
+
+  <div class="figcenter" style="width:75%">
+    <a href="images/289.png">
+    <img src="images/289.png" alt="SNUBBING A DECADENT." width="100%" />
+    </a>
+
+      <h3>SNUBBING A DECADENT.</h3>
+
+      <p class="in"><i>He.</i> "<span class="smcap">A&mdash;don't you find Existence an awful Bore</span>?"</p>
+
+      <p class="in"><i>She.</i> "<span class="smcap">A&mdash;well, <i>some</i> People's existence&mdash;most decidedly</span>!"</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2>YULE-TIDE&mdash;OLD AND NEW.</h2>
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">At the Commencement of the Century</span>.</h3>
+
+<p>And they made merry in the good old
+fashion. The pictures on the walls were
+covered with holly and mistletoe. They had
+come from British woods. Then the tables
+groaned with Christmas cheer. The baron
+of beef was flanked with plum-pudding and
+mince-pies. There never was a more jovial
+crew. The compliments of the season were
+passed round, and the Christmas Waits,
+singing their Christmas carols, were entertained
+right royally. For was it not a time
+of peace and good will? Then there was a
+mighty laugh. A huge joke had been perpetrated.
+Grandfather had been asleep, and
+he was telling the youngsters, who had been
+playing a round game, the character of his
+dream.</p>
+
+<p>"I give you my word it is true," said the
+old man. "Yes, I actually forgot it was
+Christmas!"</p>
+
+<p>"But it was only in your dreams, Grandpapa,"
+urged one of his descendants.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, but that was bad enough," cried the
+old man in a tone of self-reproach, "fancy
+forgetting Christmas&mdash;even in one's dreams!
+Everything seems changing nowadays!"</p>
+
+<p>But the Grandfather was wrong&mdash;the
+Christmas bills were unchangeable. And
+ever will be!</p>
+
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">At the End of the Century</span>.</h3>
+
+<p>And certainly it was dull enough in all
+conscience. Nowadays everything is dull.
+Although it was towards the end of December,
+the room was decorated with summer
+flowers. They had come from Algeria. Then
+the side-table was spread with a <i>recherch&eacute;</i>
+repast, for they were all going to dine <i>&agrave; la
+Russe</i>. But the guests were sad and thoroughly
+bored. They had sent a policeman
+after the itinerant street-musicians, with
+the desired result. Inside and outside silence
+reigned triumphant. Was it not a time for
+"moving on" and threatening "six weeks
+without the option of a fine"?</p>
+
+<p>Then there was a deep groan. A young
+man&mdash;somebody's Grandson&mdash;suggested a
+round game. At first the suggestion was
+received with derision.</p>
+
+<p>"You can't get up a Missing Word Competition,"
+said one. "No, my Grandson, you
+can't."</p>
+
+<p>"Can't I?" said the youngster, who had
+been called 'Grandson.' "Can't I? Look
+here, I will write out a Word, and I will bet
+you none of you will guess it."</p>
+
+<p>And "Grandson" wrote out a Word on a
+piece of paper, and sealed it in a packet.
+Then he called out the sentence, "The present
+season of the year is known as&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Then they all tried to guess it. Some one
+said "unfavourable," another "pleasant," a
+third "dreary," and a fourth "troublesome."</p>
+
+<p>But they all were wrong.</p>
+
+<p>At last the sealed-up packet was produced,
+and opened. For the first time there was a
+smile when the Word was known.</p>
+
+<p>"Who would have thought of it?" was
+the cry.</p>
+
+<p>The word chosen was "Christmas."</p>
+
+<p>"Fancy anyone remembering Christmas!
+Even for a Missing Word Competition!
+Everything seems changing nowadays!"</p>
+
+<p>But the Grandson was wrong&mdash;his Christmas
+bills were unchangeable. And ever will be!</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+
+<h2>"ART COMPETITIONS."</h2>
+
+<blockquote>"Since these competitions were started, the
+public had been educated in artistic matters, and
+their judgment was almost equal to that of the
+members of the Royal Academy."&mdash;<i>Mr. Poland's
+Speech in the "Missing Word" case</i>.</blockquote>
+
+<div class="poem">
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Mr. Poland said, at Bow Street,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Choosing pictures thus imparts<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Judgment good as that of those treat-<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Ed as foremost in the arts.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Hitherto each paid his shilling<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">At the House of Burling<i>ton</i>,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gazed at pictures, feeble, thrilling,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Bad or good, and wandered on&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Stared with awe-struck admiration<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">At "the Picture of the Year,"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gained artistic education<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In a stuffy atmosphere.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then all changed; he paid his shilling<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And he sent his coupon in<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To a weekly paper, willing<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To discriminate the tin;<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And be wisely praised or blamed, yet<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">He knew nothing of design,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The <span class="smcap">Bridge</span> of Bow Street claimed yet<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">One more shilling as a fine.<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Oh, rejoice, Academicians!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Learned <span class="smcap">Bridge</span> knew what to do;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Artisans or mechanicians<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Might have grown as wise as you.<br /></span>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Which would sadden any just man,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And might make an angel weep&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Dicksee</span> distanced by a dustman,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Storey</span> staggered by a sweep!<br /></span>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Boughton</span> beaten by a baker,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Housemaids humbling helpless <span class="smcap">Hook</span>;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Stone</span> surpassed by sausage-maker,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Cooper</span> conquered by a cook!<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Crowe</span> or <span class="smcap">Crofts</span> crushed by a cow-boy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Millais</span> made by milkmen mad,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pettie</span> plucked by any ploughboy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Leighton</span> licked by butcher's lad!<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">It effected all you care for,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">But Sir <span class="smcap">John</span> has pulled you through;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bold Bow-Street's Beak is, therefore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">No Bridge of Sighs for you<br /></span>
+</div>
+
+</div><!-- end .poem -->
+
+<hr />
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">A Note on the Appreciation of Gold</span>."&mdash;Send
+a five-pound note (verified by the
+Bank of England) to our office, and we will
+undertake to get it changed <i>immediately</i>,
+and thereupon to hand over to the Bearer, in
+exchange for the note, <i>two golden sovereigns,
+and one golden half-sovereign, ready cash</i>.
+This will show what is <i>our</i> appreciation of
+gold.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%">
+<h3>THE SKELETON AT THE FEAST.</h3>
+<img src="images/290.png" alt="THE SKELETON AT THE FEAST." width="100%" />
+</div>
+
+<p>"I confess it does seem to me that certain decisions made by a competent
+tribunal hare rendered it extremely doubtful whether there is a single one of
+the 670 gentlemen who now compose the House of Commons, who might not
+find himself, by some accident, unseated, if a full investigation were made
+into everything that had taken place in his constituency, say, during the ten
+years preceding his candidature."&mdash;<i>Mr. Balfour at Sheffield</i>.</p>
+
+<p><i>M.P. (of any Party you please), loquitur:&mdash;</i></p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Phew</span>! It's all very fine, when you gather to dine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And to blow off the steam, while you blow off your 'bacca,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">(As the farmers of Aylesbury did, when their wine<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Was sweetened with "news from the Straits of Malacca");<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But things are much changed since the voters of Bucks<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Flushed red with loud fun at the phrases of <span class="smcap">Dizzy</span>,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And M.P.'s are dreadfully down on their lucks,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Since <span class="smcap">Balfour's</span> confounded "tribunals" got busy.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">What precious stiff posers to loyal Primrosers<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Are offered by Rochester, Walsall, and Hexham!<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Platform perorators, post-prandial glosers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Must find many points to perplex 'em and vex 'em.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It bothers a spouter who freely would flourish<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Coat-tails and mixed tropes at political dinners,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When doubts of his safety he's driven to nourish,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Through publicans rash and (electoral) sinners.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Good lack, and good gracious! One may be veracious,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And look with disgust upon bribes and forced bias,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet owing to "Agents" more hot than sagacious,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2"><i>Appear</i> as <i>Autolycus-cum</i>-<span class="smcap">Ananias</span>.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">One might just as soon be a Man-in-the-Moon,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Or hark back at once to the style of Old Sarum.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That Act (Corrupt Practices) may be a boon.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">But the way they apply it seems most harum-scarum.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Should a would-be M.P. ask old ladies to tea,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Or invite male supporters to crumpets or cricket;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Should a snug Party Club prove a trifle too free,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Or give an equivocal "treat," or hat-ticket;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A seven years' nursing of Slopville-on-Slime,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">A well-fought Election and Glorious Victory<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">(Crowed o'er by proud Party prints at the time)<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">May&mdash;lose you your Seat. It does seem contradictory.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Of course, my good friends, one would not say a word,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Against England's glory&mdash;Electoral Purity!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Suspect <i>me</i> of slighting that boon? Too absurd!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">But what good's a Seat without <i>some</i> small security.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To fight tooth and nail, land a win, and then fail<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Along of dishon&mdash;I mean o'er-zealous "Agents"&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Well, well, I don't wish at our Judges to rail,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">But&mdash;putting it plainly&mdash;I fear it won't pay, gents.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">'Tis hard to attend a political feast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And strut like a peacock, and crow like a bantam,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet feel at one's back, like a blast from the east,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">A be-robed and be-wigged and blood-curdling law phantom.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stentorian cheers, and uproarious hear-hears,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Though welcome, won't banish the sense of "wet-blanket"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">(That's <span class="smcap">Ingoldsby's</span> rhyme), when Petition-bred fears<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Conjure up a grim Skeleton (Judge) at the Banquet!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;height:50%">
+<a href="images/291.png">
+<img src="images/291.png" alt="SUCH A HAPPY FAMILY PARTY&mdash;AT CHRISTMAS." width="100%" height="50%" /></a>
+<h3>SUCH A HAPPY FAMILY PARTY&mdash;AT CHRISTMAS.</h3>
+
+<p><i>Uncle John</i> (<i>losing his money and his temper</i>). "<span class="smcap">Now, Jane, do me a Favour for once, and <i>don't</i> show your Hand!"</span></p>
+
+<p><i>Aunt Jane</i> (<i>whose best Cards her Partner has invariably over-trumped</i>). "<span class="smcap">I can't help it. You show <i>your</i> Hands, and I'm sure
+<i>they</i>'re no Beauties</span>!" [<i>After this, there's a prospect of a very pleasant evening</i>.</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2>THE SHORTEST DAY.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<span class="smcap">Short</span> verse<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em">We need,</span><br />
+Most terse<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Indeed,</span><br />
+That it&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">This lay&mdash;</span><br />
+May fit<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">This day.</span><br />
+Short sight<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of sun.</span><br />
+Long night,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Begun</span><br />
+At four,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sunshine</span><br />
+Once more<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">At nine.</span><br />
+A. M.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Meets eyes</span><br />
+Of them<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Who rise</span><br />
+If no<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Fog hide&mdash;</span><br />
+Then woe<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Betide;</span><br />
+The day<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That ought</span><br />
+To stay<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So short</span><br />
+A space<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Can't show</span><br />
+Its face<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Below.</span><br />
+But when<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">It goes,</span><br />
+Why then<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">One knows</span><br />
+New Year<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Will soon</span><br />
+Be here&mdash;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Then June,</span><br />
+So bright!<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So sweet!</span><br />
+So light!<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We'll greet</span><br />
+The day<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That's long</span><br />
+With gay,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Glad song&mdash;</span><br />
+
+Excessively long-footed verse will undoubtedly characterise what<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5em;">we say,</span><br />
+For <span class="smcap">Longfellow's</span> longest lines skip along when we've long longed<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 5em;">for the Longest Day.</span><br />
+</div>
+
+<p>(<i>Signed</i>) <span class="smcap">Touchstone</span>.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<blockquote><span class="smcap">Military Motto for the New South London Ophthalmic Hospital
+opened last Friday by the Duke of York</span>.&mdash;"Eyes right!"</blockquote>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h3>THE CHOICE OF BOOKS.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">To various opinions the quidnuncs give voice,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But the best "choice of books" means&mdash;the books of your choice.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>THE LAST WORD</h2>
+
+<h3>(<i>A Domestic Drama of the Day before Yesterday.</i>)</h3>
+
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Scene</span>.&mdash;<i>The Breakfast Room at Linoleum Lodge, the suburban
+residence of</i> <span class="smcap">Samuel Stodgeford</span>, Esq. Mr. <i>and</i> Mrs. <span class="smcap">Stodgeford</span>,
+<i>their son</i> <span class="smcap">Parmenas</span>, <i>and daughters</i> <span class="smcap">Pompilia</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Priscilla</span>,
+<i>discovered at breakfast.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>Mr. Stodgeford.</i> We shall probably get it by the second post, and
+though the delay is&mdash;ah&mdash;to some extent, annoying, we must not
+allow ourselves to be unduly impatient. Personally, I regard these&mdash;ah&mdash;weekly
+competitions as chiefly valuable in providing an
+innocent form of domestic recreation, and an interesting example of
+the&mdash;ah&mdash;value of words.</p>
+
+<p><i>Parmenas S.</i> The value of <i>one</i> word, I should say, Father. Last
+week, as there were very few who guessed right, it amounted to a
+considerable sum.</p>
+
+<p><i>Mr. S.</i> That is a stimulant to ingenuity, no doubt, with some
+minds, but let us put that aside. We feel some natural curiosity
+to know whether we have selected the missing
+adjective, and I see no reason myself to doubt
+that our united efforts will this time be
+crowned with success.</p>
+
+<p><i>Pompilia.</i> It is almost impossible that it
+won't be <i>one</i> of the two hundred and fifty
+we sent in.</p>
+
+<p><i>Parmenas.</i> I drew up a list of synonyms
+which, I flatter myself, was practically exhaustive.</p>
+
+<p><i>Priscilla.</i> I dreamt I heard a voice saying
+quite clearly in my ear, "Nonsensical! nonsensical!"&mdash;like
+that&mdash;so I sent it in the
+first thing next morning.</p>
+
+<p><i>Mr. S.</i> These&mdash;ah&mdash;supernatural monitions
+are not vouchsafed to us without a purpose.
+It <i>may</i> be "nonsensical."</p>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. S.</i> The only two words <i>I</i> could think
+of were, "absurd" and "idiotic," and I'm
+afraid they haven't much chance.</p>
+
+<p><i>Mr. S.</i> I wouldn't say that, <span class="smcap">Sophronia</span>.
+It is not always the most appropriate epithet
+that&mdash;let me run over the paragraph again&mdash;where
+is last week's paper? Ah, I have it.
+(<i>He procures it and reads with unction.</i>)
+"The lark, as has been frequently observed
+by the poets, is in the habit of ascending to
+high altitudes in the exercise of his vocal
+functions. Scientific meteorologists, it is
+true, do not consider that there is any immediate
+danger of a descent of the sky, but
+many bird-catchers of experience are of
+opinion that, should such a contingency
+happen, the number of these feathered songsters
+included in the catastrophe would, in
+all probability, be simply&mdash;&mdash;" It might be
+"idiotic," of course, but I fancy "incalculable,"
+or "appalling" would be nearer
+the mark.</p>
+
+<p><i>Parmenas.</i> Too obvious, <i>I</i> should say. If
+you had adopted a few more of the words I
+got from <i>Roget's Thesaurus</i>, we should have
+been safer. Sending in a word like "disgusting"
+was sheer waste of one-and-twopence!
+And as for <span class="smcap">Pompilia</span>, with her synonyms to "sensational," and
+<span class="smcap">Priscilla</span>, with her rubbishy superstition, depend upon it, <i>they</i>'re
+no good!</p>
+
+<p><i>Pompilia.</i> You think you know so much, because you've been
+to London University&mdash;but <i>we've</i> been to a High School; so we're
+not absolute <i>idiots</i>. <span class="smcap">Parmenas</span>!</p>
+
+<p><i>Priscilla.</i> And I'm sure people have dreamt which horse was
+going to win a race over and over again!</p>
+
+<p><i>Mr. S.</i> Come, come, let us have none of these unseemly disputes!
+And, when you compare a literary competition with&mdash;ah&mdash;a mere
+gambling transaction, <span class="smcap">Priscilla</span>, you do a grave injustice to us all.
+You forget that we have, all of us, worked hard for success; we
+have given our whole thoughts and time to the subject. I have
+stayed at home from the office day after day. Your mother has
+had no leisure for the cares of the household; your brother has suspended
+his studies for his approaching examination, and your elder
+sister her labours at the East End&mdash;on purpose to devote our combined
+intelligence to the subject. And are we to be told that we
+are no better than the brainless multitude who speculate on horse-racing!
+I am not <i>angry</i>, my child, I am only&mdash;(<i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Robert</span>,
+<i>the</i> Page, <i>with a paper in a postal wrapper.) Tiddler's Miscellany</i>&mdash;ha,
+at last! Why didn't you bring it up before, Sir? You must
+have known it was important!</p>
+
+<p><i>Robert.</i> Please, Sir, it's on'y just come, Sir.</p>
+
+<p><i>Mr. S. (snatching the paper from him, and tearing it open; the
+other members of the family crowd round excitedly).</i> Now we shall
+see! Where's the place? Confound the thing! Why can't they
+print the result in a&mdash;&mdash;(<i>His face falls.</i>) What are you waiting
+for, Sir? Leave the room!</p>
+
+<p>[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Robert</span>, <i>who has lingered about the sideboard.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>Robert.</i> Beg pardon, Sir, but would you mind reading out the
+Word&mdash;'cause I'm&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><i>The Family.</i> Read the Word, Papa, do!</p>
+
+<p><i>Mr. S. (keeping the Journal).</i> All in good time. (<i>Addressing</i>
+<span class="smcap">Robert</span>.) Am I to understand, Sir, that you have actually had the
+presumption to engage in this competition?&mdash;an uneducated young
+rascal like you!</p>
+
+<p><i>Robert.</i> I didn't mean no harm, Sir, I sent in nothink&mdash;it was
+on'y a lark, Sir!</p>
+
+<p><i>The Family (dancing with suspense).</i> Oh, never mind <span class="smcap">Robert</span> now,
+Father&mdash;do read out the Word!</p>
+
+<p><i>Mr. S. (ignoring their anxiety).</i> If you sent in nothing, Sir, so
+much the better. But, in case you should be
+tempted to such a piece of infatuation in
+future, let me tell you this by way of&mdash;ah&mdash;warning.
+I and my family, have, with
+every advantage that superior education and
+abilities can bestow, sent in, after prolonged
+and careful deliberation, no less than two
+hundred and fifty separate solutions, and not
+a single one of these solutions, Sir, proves to
+be the correct one!</p>
+
+<p><i>The Family (collapsing on the nearest
+chairs).</i> Oh, it can't be true&mdash;one of them
+<i>must</i> be right!</p>
+
+<p><i>Mr. S.</i> Unfortunately, they are not. I
+will read you the sentence as completed.
+<i>(Reads.)</i> "Should such a contingency happen,
+the number of these feathered songsters
+included in the catastrophe would, in all probability,
+be simply&mdash;ah&mdash;<i>nought</i>!" Now I venture to assert
+that nothing short of&mdash;ah&mdash;absolute genius could possibly&mdash;&mdash;
+(<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Robert</span>.) What do you mean by interrupting
+me, Sir?</p>
+
+<p><i>Robert.</i> Please, Sir, <i>I</i> said nothink, Sir!</p>
+
+<p><i>Pompilia.</i> Oh, what <i>does</i> it matter? Give me the
+paper, Papa. <i>(She snatches it.)</i> Oh, listen to this:&mdash;"The
+number of solutions sent in was five hundred
+thousand, which means that twenty-five thousand
+pounds remain for division. The only competitor who
+gave the correct solution was Mr. <span class="smcap">Robert Conkling</span>,
+of Linoleum Lodge, Camberwell...." <i>Oh!</i> Why,
+that's <i>you</i>, <span class="smcap">Robert</span>!</p>
+
+<p><i>Robert.</i> Yes, Miss, I told you I said "Nothink,"
+Miss. I'm sure if I'd thought&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><i>Mr. S. (gasping).</i> Twenty-five thousand pounds!
+Ah, <span class="smcap">Robert</span>, I trust you will not forget that this
+piece of&mdash;ah&mdash;unmerited good fortune was acquired
+by you under this humble roof. Shake hands, my
+boy!</p>
+
+<p><i>Pompilia.</i> Wait, Papa&mdash;don't shake hands till I've
+done&mdash;<i>(continuing)&mdash;</i>"Mr. <span class="smcap">Conkling</span>, however, having
+elected to disregard our conditions, requiring the
+solution to be written out in full, and to express the
+word "Nought" by a cipher, we cannot consider him
+legally entitled to the prize&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p><i>Mr. S.</i> How dare you use my private address for your illiterate
+attempts, Sir?</p>
+
+<p><i>Prisc. (seizing the paper).</i> Why don't you read it all?&mdash;&mdash;"We
+are prepared, nevertheless, to waive this informality, and a
+cheque for the full amount of twenty-five thousand pounds,
+payable to his order, will be forwarded to Mr. <span class="smcap">CONKLING</span> accordingly&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p><i>Mr. S.</i> Well, <span class="smcap">Robert</span>, you deserve it, I must say&mdash;shake
+hands!&mdash;I&mdash;ah&mdash;<i>mean</i> it.</p>
+
+<p><i>Robert.</i> Thankee, Sir, I'm sure&mdash;it was Cook and <span class="smcap">Jane</span> 'elped me,
+Sir, but&mdash;(<i>dolefully</i>)&mdash;I sold my chanst to the butcher-boy, for
+tuppence and a mouth-orgin, Sir.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%; height:60%">
+<a href="images/292.png">
+<img src="images/292.png" alt="I sold my Chanst to the Butcher-boy!" width="60%" height="60%" /></a>
+<h3>"I sold my Chanst to the Butcher-boy!"</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p><i>Mr. S.</i> You unspeakable young idiot! But there, you will know
+better another time; and now go out at once, and order five hundred
+copies of <i>Tiddler</i>&mdash;a periodical which offers such intellectual and&mdash;ah&mdash;substantial
+advantages, deserves some encouragement. (<i>Exit</i>
+<span class="smcap">Robert</span>.) Now Mother, <span class="smcap">Parmenas</span>, girls&mdash;all of you, let us set to
+work, and see&mdash;just for the&mdash;ah&mdash;fun of the thing&mdash;if we can't be
+more fortunate with the <i>next</i> competition. We'll have Cook and
+<span class="smcap">Jane</span>, and&mdash;ah&mdash;<span class="smcap">Robert</span> in to help; the housework can look after
+itself for once ... what is it <i>now</i>, <span class="smcap">Priscilla</span>?</p>
+
+<p><i>Prisc. (faintly).</i> I've just seen this. (<i>Reads.</i>) "In consequence of
+the recent decision at Bow Street, those who send solutions for this,
+and any future competitions, will not be
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span>
+required to forward any remittance with their
+coupons&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p><i>Mr. S.</i> (<i>approvingly</i>). An admirable arrangement&mdash;puts
+a stop at once to any pernicious
+tendency to&mdash;ah&mdash;speculation!</p>
+
+<p><i>Prisc.</i> (<i>continuing</i>)&mdash;"and successful competitors
+must, we fear, be content with no other
+reward than that of honourable mention."</p>
+
+<p><i>Mr. S.</i> Here, send after <span class="smcap">Robert</span>, somebody!
+It's scandalous that the precious
+time of a whole family should be frittered
+away in these unedifying and&mdash;ah&mdash;idiotic
+competitions. I will not allow another <i>Tiddler</i>
+to enter my house!</p>
+
+<p><i>Robert</i> (<i>entering with his arms full of
+"Tiddlers"</i>). Please, Sir, I brought a
+'undred, Sir, and they'll send up the rest as
+soon as ever they&mdash;&mdash;Oh Lor, Sir, I on'y done
+as I was told, Sir!</p>
+
+<p>[<i>He is pounced upon, severely cuffed by a
+righteously indignant family, and sent
+flying in a whirlwind of tattered "Tiddlers,"
+as the Scene closes</i>.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2>LAYS OF MODERN HOME.</h2>
+<h3>THE MUFFIN MAN.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ah! welcome, through autumnal mist,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For each returning ruralist,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Waif metropolitan, to list<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">Thy tinkle unto.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">No sound of seas or bees or trees<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Can Londoners so truly please&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The cheapest epicure with ease<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">Thy dainties run to.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width:55%; height:55%;">
+<a href="images/293-1.png">
+<img src="images/293-1.png" alt="Illustration" width="75%" height="75%" /></a>
+</div>
+
+<span class="i0">They need not, like the fruits on sticks,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The fruits Venetian boyhood licks,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A voice with operatic tricks<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">Their praise to trumpet.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The simple bell shall, fraught with sense<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of teapot, urn, and hearth intense.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Best herald thee and thy commensurable<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">crumpet.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Lives there a cit with soul so dead<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who never to himself hath said,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"This is my crisp, my native-bred,<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">My British muffin!"?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Let picturesque Autolyci<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their cloying foreign dainties cry;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>I</i> don't see much to buy, not I,<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">Such messy stuff in!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Mysterious vagrant, dost prepare<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thyself that inexpensive fare;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thyself, partake of it&mdash;and <i>where?</i>&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">The boon thou sellest?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza clear">
+<span class="i0">'Tis Home, where'er it be; thy load<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Can cheer the pauper's dark abode,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And lack of it, with gloom corrode<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">The very swellest.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">There are who deem it vulgar fun<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For dressy bachelors to run<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Themselves to stop thee; I'm not one<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">So nicely silly:<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><i>I</i>'m not ashamed to track thy way,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And test the triumphs of thy tray,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And bring them back in paper, say,<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">To Piccadilly.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Yes, heedless of a gibing town,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To hand them <span class="smcap">Phyllis</span>, sit me down,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And wait, till they come up in brown<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">And glossy sections.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then, brew my cup&mdash;the best Ceylon&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, bidding care and chill begone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Concentre heart and mouth upon<br /></span>
+<span class="i8">Thy warm perfections.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2>MONTECARLOTTERY.</h2>
+
+
+<blockquote class="note">[It remains true that for those who want a brief
+and exhilarating change, and are glad to reap for
+the nonce the harvest of a quiet eye, there are
+spots within the borders of England which, both in
+climate and in scenery, can vie with the proudest
+and most vaunted watering-places of the Sunny
+South.&mdash;<i>Daily Paper</i>.]</blockquote>
+
+<p><i>Damon on the Riviera, to Pythias at
+Torquay.</i>&mdash;"Here I am, by the blue Mediterranean!
+At least, the attendant of the sleeping-car
+says the Mediterranean is somewhere
+about, only, as a violent rain-storm is going
+on, we can't see it. Very tired by journey.
+Feel that, after all, you were probably right
+in deciding to try the coast of Devonshire
+this winter, instead of Riviera."</p>
+
+<p><i>Pythias at Torquay, to Damon at Nice.</i>&mdash;"Coast
+of Devonshire delightful, so far.
+Pleasant run down from London by G. W. R.&mdash;only
+five hours. Thought of and pitied
+your crossing to Calais, and long night-and-day
+journey after. You should just see our
+geraniums and fuchsias, growing out-of-doors
+in winter! Mind and tell me in your
+next how the olives and orange-trees look."</p>
+
+<p><i>Damon to Pythias.</i>&mdash;"Olives all diseased&mdash;have
+not seen an orange-tree yet&mdash;there is
+my reply to the query in your last. Hitherto
+I have not had much opportunity of seeing
+anything, as the mistral has been blowing,
+and it has been rather colder than England
+in March. Wretched cold in my head. No
+decent fires&mdash;only pine-cones and logs to
+burn, instead of coal! Wish I were at
+Torquay with you!"</p>
+
+<p><i>Pythias to Damon.</i>&mdash;"Sorry to hear that
+Riviera is such a failure. More pleased than
+ever with Devonshire. Glorious warm sunshine
+to-day. Natives say they hardly ever
+have frost. Children digging on sand on
+Christmas Eve&mdash;too hot for great-coat. Rain
+comes down occasionally, but then it dries up
+in no time. Quite a little Earthly Paradise.
+Glad I found it out."</p>
+
+<p><i>Later from Damon.</i>&mdash;"Riviera better.
+Mistral gone. Sun warm, and have seen my
+first orange-tree. Have also found that
+there's a place called Monte Carlo near Nice.
+Have you ever heard of it? There's a
+Casino there, where they have free concerts.
+Off there now!"</p>
+
+<p><i>Later from Pythias.</i>&mdash;"After all, Devonshire
+<i>is</i> sometimes a little damp. Yes, I <i>have</i>
+heard of Monte Carlo Casino, and I wish there
+was anything of the sort at Torquay. Walks
+and drives pretty, but monotonous. Hills
+annoying. Still, evidently far superior to any
+part of Riviera."</p>
+
+<p><i>Still later from Damon.</i>&mdash;"Glorious place,
+Monte Carlo. Superb grounds! Scenery
+lovely, and Casinery still lovelier! And,
+between ourselves, I have already more than
+paid for expenses of my trip by my winnings
+at the Tables. No time for more just now.
+Must back the red!"</p>
+
+<p><i>Reply to above from Pythias.</i>&mdash;"Very sorry
+to hear you have been playing at the Tables.
+Sure to end in ruin. By the bye, what system
+do you use? The subject interests me merely
+as a mathematical problem, of course. Wish
+<i>I</i> could pay expenses of my Devonshire
+hotel so easily. But then one ought to have
+<i>some</i> reward for visiting such a dreary place
+as the Riviera, with its Mistrals, and diseased
+olive-trees, and all that."</p>
+
+<p><i>Latest from Damon.</i>&mdash;"Since writing my
+last letter, my views of the Riviera have
+altered. The climate, I find, does not suit me.
+Sun doesn't shine as much as I expected&mdash;not
+at night, for instance. Then the existence
+of an olive disease anywhere near is naturally
+very <i>d&eacute;go&ucirc;tant</i> (as they say here). And the
+Casino at Monte Carlo is simply an organised
+swindle. It ought to be put down! After
+staking ten times in succession on "Zero,"
+and doubling my stake each time, I was absolutely
+cleared out! Only just enough money
+to take me home. Shall follow your example,
+and try Torquay for the rest of the winter."</p>
+
+<p><i>Latest from Pythias.</i>&mdash;"Just a hasty line
+to say&mdash;<i>don't</i> come to Torquay! I am leaving
+it. Since I last wrote, my views of Devonshire
+have also altered. Can't conceal from
+myself that the climate is a mistake. Damp,
+dull, and depressing. Your account of Monte
+Carlo&mdash;<i>not</i> the Casino, of course&mdash;so enchanting,
+that I've determined to try it. Just off
+to London to catch '<i>train de luxe!</i>'"</p>
+
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2>THE MISSING WORD.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">(<i>By a much-badgered Barmaid.</i>)</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Each boobyish bar-lounger calls me "dear,"<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And "Misses" me in manner most absurd.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I should not miss <i>him</i>! But the boss, I fear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Would miss his custom; so I still must hear<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">His odious "Miss-ing" word!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But oh! I'd sooner bear a monkey's kisses,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Than some of these cheap mashers' mincing<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">"Misses"!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And there is one young ape!&mdash;I'd stand "two d"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Could I hit him each time he "Misses" me!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2>QUEER QUERIES.</h2>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width:35%; height:35%;">
+<a href="images/293-2.png">
+<img src="images/293-2.png" alt="" width="75%" height="75%" /></a>
+</div>
+<p><span class="smcap">Autobiographical.</span>&mdash;I should be glad to
+know whether it would be advisable for me
+to write a book of "Reminiscences," as I see
+is now the fashion.
+My life has been chiefly
+passed in a moorland-village in Yorkshire,
+so that it has
+not been very
+eventful, and
+I have never
+written anything
+before;
+still the public
+might like to
+hear my
+opinions on
+things in
+general, and I
+think I could
+make the anecdote
+of how
+our kitchen
+chimney once
+caught fire&mdash;which
+would
+be the most
+important incident chronicled&mdash;rather thrilling.
+Among interesting and eminent persons
+I have met, and of whom I could give some
+account in my forthcoming work, are Mr.
+<span class="smcap">Gladstone</span> (who passed through our station
+in a train going at fifty miles an hour while
+I was on the platform), Lord <span class="smcap">Salisbury</span>
+whom I met (under similar circumstances,
+and the back of whose head I feel confident
+that I actually saw) and the <span class="smcap">Lord Chief
+Justice</span> of England, who ordered an Usher
+to remove me from his Court at the Assizes
+as I was (incorrectly) alleged to be snoring.
+I should be glad to hear of any leading
+Publisher who would be likely to offer a good
+price for such a book.&mdash;<span class="smcap">Rusticus Expectans</span>.</p>
+
+<hr />
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%; height:50%;">
+<a href="images/294.png">
+<img src="images/294.png" width="100%" height="50%" alt=">PRIVATE THEATRICALS. A REHEARSAL" /></a>
+<h3>PRIVATE THEATRICALS. A REHEARSAL.</h3>
+
+<p class="in"><i>The Captain.</i> "<span class="smcap">At this stage of the proceedings I've got to Kiss you, Lady Grace. Will your Husband mind, do you think</span>?"</p>
+
+<p class="in"><i>Lady Grace.</i> "<span class="smcap">Oh No! It's for a <i>Charity</i>, you know</span>!"</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+
+<h2>"CHRISTMAS IS COMING!"</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Christmas <i>is</i> coming!" Pleasant truth<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To all&mdash;save the dyspeptic!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To most in whom some smack of youth<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Hath influence antiseptic.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pessimists prate, and prigs be-rate<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The time of mirth and holly;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But why should time-soured sages "slate"<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The juvenile and jolly?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Though some churls at our mirth repine"<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">(As old <span class="smcap">George Wither</span> put it),<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We'll whiff our weed, and sip our wine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And watch the youngsters foot it.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They did so in quaint <span class="smcap">Wither's</span> time,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">When wassail-bowls were humming,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And still girls laugh, and church-bells chime,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Because&mdash;"Christmas is coming!"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Christmas is coming!" Let him bring<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Mirth to the toiling million.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What is't he bears&mdash;a gracious thing&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Behind him on the pillion?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her snowy garb, and smile benign,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Make sunshine in dark places;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The gentlest, rarest, most divine<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of all the Christian graces.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her eyes are full of loving light,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Her hands with gifts are laden;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">True Yule-tide Almoner, of right,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">This <i>Una</i>-pure sweet maiden!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She smiles on all, full-feeding mirth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Young love, mad motley mumming;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There is loss dearth of joy on earth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Because&mdash;"Christmas is coming!"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A Merry Christmas? Round each room<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">That's writ in leaf and berry;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But there be those, alas! to whom<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">There's mockery in the "Merry."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Merry?&mdash;when sorrow loads the heart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And nothing loads the larder?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the world's play the poor man's part<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">At Yule-tide seems yet harder.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Good cheer to him who hungry goes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And mirth to her who sorrows,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lend bitter chill to Christmas snows.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Small joy care's bondsman borrows.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From jollity he may not share,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Despair is darkly drumming<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">At his dull breast, whose hearth won't flare,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Because&mdash;"Christmas is coming!"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Good Greybeard Sire, you would not tire<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Gay youth with tales of trouble;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">World-gladness is your heart's desire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And so you're&mdash;riding double!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pleasant to see dear Charity<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Close pillion-poised behind you,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Eager to bid her gifts fly free,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">We're happy so to find you.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ride on, and scatter largesse wide!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Sore need is still no rarity,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For all our Progress, Power, and Pride,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">We can't dispense with Charity.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ride on, kind pair, and may the air<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With happiness be humming,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And poverty shake off despair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Because&mdash;"Christmas is coming!"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<blockquote><span class="smcap">Rather too Premature.</span>&mdash;We see "<i>Christmas
+Leaves</i>" advertised everywhere in
+glaring colours. This announcement is too
+early. "<i>Christmas Comes</i>," it should be,
+and then, any time after the 25th, will be
+appropriate for the announcement of his
+departure.</blockquote>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2>THE PORTER'S SLAM.</h2>
+
+<blockquote class="note">[A meeting at Manchester has raised a protest
+against the nuisance caused by the needlessly loud
+"slamming" of railway carriage doors.]</blockquote>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The porter has a patent "slam,"<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Which smites one like a blow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And everywhere that porter comes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">That "slam" is sure to go.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It strikes upon the tym-pa-num<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Like shock of dynamite;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By day it nearly makes you dumb&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">It deafens you at night.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When startled by that patent "slam,"<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The pious pas-sen-jare,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Says something else that ends in "am,"<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">(Or he has patience rare.)<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not only does it cause a shock,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">But&mdash;Manchester remarks&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Depreciates the rolling stock,"<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Well, that is rather larks!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><i>That</i>'s not the point. The porter's slam<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Conduces to insanity,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, though as mild as <span class="smcap">Mary</span>'s lamb,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Drives men to loud profanity.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If Manchester the "slam" can stay<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">By raising of a stir,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All railway-travellers will say,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">"Bully for Man-ches-ter!"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<blockquote><i>Kelly's Directory for</i> 1893.&mdash;Invaluable,
+and considered as "portable property" (to
+quote <i>Pip's</i> friend), admirably suited for
+the pocket of any individual who should
+happen to be about twenty-five feet high.
+<i>How to use it?</i> Why&mdash;see inside&mdash;it is full
+of "Directions."</blockquote>
+
+<hr />
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%;">
+<a href="images/295.png">
+<img src="images/295.png" alt="CHRISTMAS IS COMING!" width="100%" /></a>
+<h3>"CHRISTMAS IS COMING!"]</h3>
+</div>
+<hr />
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span><br /></p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>MIXED NOTIONS.&mdash;No. II. UGANDA.</h2>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Scene</span>&mdash;<i>As before, a Railway-carriage in a suburban morning train
+to London. Persons also as before&mdash;namely, two</i> Well-informed
+Men, <i>an</i> Inquirer, <i>and an</i> Average Man.</p>
+
+<p><i>First Well-informed Man</i> (<i>laying down his paper</i>). So the
+Government's going to stick to Uganda, after all. I had a notion,
+from the beginning, they wouldn't be allowed to scuttle.</p>
+
+<p><i>Average Man.</i> Ah&mdash;I don't know that I'm particularly enthusiastic
+about Uganda.</p>
+
+<p><i>Inquirer.</i> Why not?</p>
+
+<p><i>A. M.</i> What are we going to get out of it?&mdash;that's the question.
+We go interfering all over the world, grabbing here, and grabbing
+there, merely in order to keep other people out; and then some
+nigger King, with a cold in his head, sneezes as he passes the
+Union Jack. That's an
+insult to the flag, of
+course; so off goes an
+expedition, and, before
+you know where you
+are, we've spent about
+ten millions, and added
+a few thousand acres of
+swamp to the Empire.
+Why can't we leave
+things alone? Haven't
+we got enough?</p>
+
+<p><i>First W. I. M.</i> That's
+all very well, I daresay;
+but you forget that the
+Berlin Conference made
+Uganda one of our
+spheres of influence.</p>
+
+<p><i>Inquirer.</i> When was
+that?</p>
+
+<p><i>First W. I. M.</i> Why,
+just after the Franco-Prussian
+War. They
+all met in Berlin to
+settle up everything&mdash;and
+we got Uganda.</p>
+
+<p><i>Inquirer.</i> I thought
+it was later than that,
+somehow.</p>
+
+<p><i>First W. I. M.</i> Well,
+anyhow, it was somewhere
+about that time.
+I don't pledge myself to
+a year or two. But what
+I say about Uganda is
+this. We're there&mdash;or
+rather the Company is&mdash;and
+we should simply
+disgrace ourselves before
+the whole world if
+we chucked up the
+sponge now. And, if
+we did, we should have
+France or Germany
+nipping in directly.</p>
+
+<p><i>Second W. I. M.</i>
+They can't.</p>
+
+<p><i>First W. I. M.</i> Why
+not?</p>
+
+<p><i>Second W. I. M.</i>
+Why not! Because it's
+our sphere of influence
+whatever happens.</p>
+
+<p><i>Inquirer</i> (<i>timidly</i>). I'm afraid you'll think me very ignorant, but
+I don't quite know what a "sphere of influence" is. I've read a lot
+about it lately, but I can't quite make it out.</p>
+
+<p><i>Second W. I. M.</i> (<i>condescendingly</i>). Yes, I know it's deuced
+difficult to keep up with these new notions, unless you're in the
+way of hearing all about them. Spheres of influence mean&mdash;well,
+don't you know, they mean some country that's not quite yours, but
+it's more yours than anybody else's, and if anybody else comes into
+it, you're allowed to make a protocol of it. Besides, it gives you a
+right to the Hinterland, you know.</p>
+
+<p><i>Inquirer</i> (<i>dubiously</i>). Ah, I see. What's the Hinterland?</p>
+
+<p><i>Second W. I. M.</i> (<i>stumped</i>). I fancy it's about the most fertile
+part of Africa. (<i>To First W. I. M.</i>) Isn't it?</p>
+
+<p><i>First W. I. M.</i> Yes, that's it. It's the German for Highlands.</p>
+
+<p><i>Inquirer.</i> Of course, so it is. I might have thought of that.</p>
+
+<p><i>Average Man</i> (<i>to First W. I. M.</i>). Seems to me you've none of
+you got hold of the right point. What I want to know is, does
+Uganda pay? <span class="smcap">Lugard</span> says it don't; the Company hasn't made
+anything of it, and they've got to go whether they like it or not;
+though I daresay they're deuced glad to be out of the hole. But,
+if it don't pay, what on earth are we going to do with it?</p>
+
+<p><i>Second W I. M.</i> (<i>triumphantly reinforcing him</i>). Yes, what on
+earth are we to do with it?</p>
+
+<p><i>First W. I. M.</i> (<i>calmly, but contemptuously</i>). Ah! I see you're
+both little-England men. From your point of view, I daresay
+you're right enough. But I'm one of those who believe that we
+must stick on wherever we've planted the flag. I agree with
+<span class="smcap">Moltke</span>, that the nation that gives up is in a state of decay.</p>
+
+<p><i>Second W. I. M.</i> It wasn't <span class="smcap">Moltke</span> who said that; it was <span class="smcap">Victor
+Hugo</span>, or (<i>after a pause</i>) Lord <span class="smcap">Palmerston</span>.</p>
+
+<p><i>First W. I. M.</i> Well, it doesn't matter who said it. The point is,
+it's true. Besides, what are you going to do about the slaves and
+the Missionaries?</p>
+
+<p><i>Average Man.</i> Oh,
+bother the Missionaries!</p>
+
+<p><i>First W. I. M.</i> It's
+all very well to say
+"bother the Missionaries!"
+but that won't
+get you any further.
+They're our fellow-creatures
+after all, and
+what's more, they're
+our fellow-countrymen,
+so we've got to look
+after them.</p>
+
+<p><i>Average Man.</i> I
+should let the whole lot
+of Missionaries fight it
+out together. They
+only keep quarrelling
+amongst themselves,
+and trying to bag one
+another's converts; and
+then France and England
+get involved.</p>
+
+<p><i>Inquirer.</i> By the way,
+where is Uganda, exactly?</p>
+
+<p><i>First W. I. M.</i> Just
+behind Zanzibar&mdash;or
+somewhere about there.
+You can get to it best
+from Mashonaland.
+Didn't you see that
+<span class="smcap">Rhodes</span> said he was
+going to make a telegraph-line
+through
+there? It used to belong
+to the <span class="smcap">Sultan of
+Zanzibar</span>. Don't you
+remember?</p>
+
+<p><i>Inquirer.</i> Of course;
+so it did.</p>
+
+<p>[<i>Train draws up at
+Terminus.</i></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%">
+<a href="images/297.png">
+<img src="images/297.png" width="75%" alt="A SALVE FOR THE CONSCIENCE."/></a>
+
+<h3>A SALVE FOR THE CONSCIENCE.</h3>
+
+<p><i>Vegetarian Professor.</i> "<span class="smcap">No, Madam, not even Fish. I cannot sanction the
+Destruction of Life. These little Animals, for instance, were but yesterday
+Swimming happily in the Sea.</span>"</p>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. O'Laughlan.</i> "<span class="smcap">Oh but, Professor, just think it's the First Time the
+poor little Things have ever been really Warm in their Lives!</span>"]</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<blockquote>"&#8217;<span class="smcap">Twas Whispered
+in Heaven, &#8217;twas Muttered
+in H&mdash;&mdash;.</span>" <i>&Agrave;
+propos</i> of the much-discussed
+article written
+by Dr. <span class="smcap">St. George
+Mivart</span> in <i>The Nineteenth
+Century</i>, on
+"Happiness in Hell."&mdash;begging
+pardon for uttering a word "unmentionable to ears polite,"&mdash;our
+old friend <span class="smcap">'Arry</span> writes thusly:&mdash;"Sir,&mdash;We 'ave all of us
+been familiar for years with the well-known 'Mivart's 'Otel.' If
+the clever Professor is correct, this name ought to be changed, as
+there ain't no such a place; and, in future, when alluded to, it
+ought to be called <i>Mivart's Cool 'el.</i> Am I right?</blockquote>
+
+<blockquote>"Yours truly, <span class="smcap">The 'Arry Opagite</span>."</blockquote>
+
+<hr />
+
+<blockquote>In "Lucky Shoes," baskets, and in other dainty trifles, does
+<span class="smcap">Rimmel</span> arrange his beautiful bottles of scent. <span class="smcap">Rimmel</span> is not a
+Head Centre, but our Chief Scenter, "and," exclaims Mr. <span class="smcap">Wagstaff</span>,
+the Unabashed, "what a great day will be his Scentenary!"</blockquote>
+
+<hr />
+
+<blockquote>"<span class="smcap">The Silent Battle</span>."&mdash;See this charming piece at the Criterion.
+Of course it is brought out by Mr. <span class="smcap">Charles Wyndham</span> in illustration
+of the old proverb, "<i>Acts, not words.</i>"</blockquote>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width:100%">
+<a href="images/298.png">
+<img src="images/298.png" alt="HAPPY AND NOVEL COMBINATION! THE HARMONIOUS CHRISTMAS PARTY." width="100%" /></a>
+<h3>HAPPY AND NOVEL COMBINATION! THE HARMONIOUS CHRISTMAS "PARTY."</h3>
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>CHOOSING CHRISTMAS TOYS.</h2>
+
+<p>(<i>A Sketch in the Lowther Arcade.</i>)</p>
+
+
+<p><i>Between the sloping banks of toys, and under a dense foliage of
+coloured rosettes, calico banners, and Japanese-lanterns, the congested
+Stream of Custom oozes slowly along, with an occasional
+overflow into the backwaters of the shops behind, while the Stall-keepers
+keep up a batrachian and almost automatic croak of
+invitation.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>Fond Grandmother</i>. So you've chosen a box of soldiers, have you,
+<span class="smcap">Franky</span>?&mdash;very well.
+Now what shall we get
+for little <span class="smcap">Elsie</span> and Baby?</p>
+
+<p><i>Franky (promptly).</i>
+Another box of soldiers
+would do nicely for <span class="smcap">Elsie</span>,
+Grandmamma, and&mdash;<i>I</i>
+know, a fort for Baby!</p>
+
+<p><i>Grandm. (doubtfully).</i>
+But they're such <i>little</i>
+tots&mdash;they won't know
+how to play with them.</p>
+
+<p><i>Franky.</i> Oh, but I can
+<i>teach</i> them, you know,
+Grandmamma.</p>
+
+<p><i>Grandm.</i> That's right&mdash;I
+like to see a boy kind
+to his little sisters.</p>
+
+<p>[<i>She adopts</i> Master
+<span class="smcap">Franky's</span> <i>disinterested
+suggestion.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>A Mother.</i> Now,
+<span class="smcap">Percy</span>, it's all nonsense&mdash;you
+<i>can't</i> want any
+more toys&mdash;those you've
+got are as good as new.
+(<i>To her Friend</i>.) He's
+such a boy for taking care
+of his things&mdash;he'll hardly
+trust his toys out of their
+boxes, and won't allow
+anyone else to <i>touch</i> them!</p>
+
+<p><i>The Friend.</i> Dear little
+fellow&mdash;then I'm sure he
+<i>deserves</i> to be given a new
+toy for being so careful!</p>
+
+<p><i>The Mother.</i> Well,
+he'll give me no peace
+till I <i>do</i> give him something.
+I know&mdash;but mind
+this, <span class="smcap">Percy</span>, it's only to
+keep you quiet, and I'm
+not going to buy <span class="smcap">Eddie</span>
+anything. <i>(To Friend.)</i>
+He gives all <i>his</i> things
+away as it is!
+[Master <span class="smcap">Percy</span> <i>takes both
+these valuable moral
+lessons to heart</i>.</p>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. Stilton (to her less
+prosperous Sister-in-law</i>,
+Mrs. <span class="smcap">Bloomold</span>). Nonsense,
+<span class="smcap">Vinnie</span>, I won't
+<i>hear</i> of it! <span class="smcap">Reggie</span> has
+more toys already than he
+knows what to do with!</p>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. Bloom. (apologetically).</i>
+Of course, my
+dear <span class="smcap">Sophia</span>, I know
+your children are born
+to every&mdash;&mdash;but still, I
+have no one but myself
+<i>now</i>, you know&mdash;and if I
+<i>might</i>&mdash;it would be such
+a <i>pleasure</i>!</p>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. Stilton.</i> I have
+already told you there is not the slightest occasion for your spending
+your money in any such foolish manner. I hope that is enough.</p>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. Bloom.</i> I'm sure he would like one of these little water-carts&mdash;now
+<i>wouldn't</i> you, <span class="smcap">Reggie</span>? [<span class="smcap">Reggie</span> <i>assents shyly</i>.</p>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. Stilton.</i> Buy him one, by all means&mdash;he will probably take
+the colour out of my new carpets with it&mdash;but, of course, <i>that</i>'s of
+no consequence to <i>you</i>!</p>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. Bloom.</i> Oh dear, I <i>quite</i> forgot your beautiful carpets. No,
+to be sure, that might&mdash;&mdash;but one of those little butcher's shops,
+now!&mdash;they're really <i>quite</i> cheap!</p>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. S.</i> <i>I</i> always thought cheapness was a question of what a
+person could <i>afford</i>.</p>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. Bloom.</i> But I <i>can</i> afford it, dear <span class="smcap">Sophia</span>&mdash;thanks to dear
+<span class="smcap">John's</span> bounty, and&mdash;and <i>yours</i>.</p>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. S.</i> You mustn't thank <i>me</i>. <i>I</i> had nothing to do with it. I
+warned <span class="smcap">John</span> at the time that it would only&mdash;&mdash;and it seems I was
+right. And <span class="smcap">Reggie</span> has a butcher's shop&mdash;a really good one&mdash;already.
+In fact, I couldn't tell you what he <i>hasn't</i> got!</p>
+
+<p><i>Reggie.</i> <i>I</i> can, though, Aunt <span class="smcap">Vinnie</span>. I haven't got a train, for
+<i>one</i> thing! (<i>To his Mother, as she drags him on</i>.) I <i>should</i> like a
+little tin train, to go by
+clockwork on rails so.
+Do let Auntie&mdash;&mdash;what's
+she staying behind for?</p>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. Bloom. (catching
+them up, and thrusting a
+box into</i> <span class="smcap">Reggie's</span> <i>hands).</i>
+There, dear boy, there's
+your train&mdash;with Aunt
+<span class="smcap">Vinnie's</span> love! (<span class="smcap">Reggie</span>
+<i>opens the box, and discovers
+a wooden train</i>.)
+What's the matter, darling?
+Isn't it&mdash;&mdash;?</p>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. S.</i> He had rather
+set his heart on a clockwork
+one with rails&mdash;which
+I was thinking of
+getting for him&mdash;but I
+am sure he's very much
+obliged to his Aunt all
+the same&mdash;<i>aren't</i> you,
+<span class="smcap">Reginald</span>?</p>
+
+<p><i>Reggie (with a fortunate
+inspiration).</i> Thank
+you <i>ever</i> so much, Auntie!
+And I like this train
+better than a tin one&mdash;because
+all the doors open
+really&mdash;it's <i>exactly</i> what
+I wanted!</p>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. S.</i> That's so like
+<span class="smcap">Reggie</span>&mdash;he never says
+anything to hurt people's
+feelings if he can possibly
+help it.</p>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. B. (with meek
+ambiguity).</i> Ah, dear
+<span class="smcap">Sophia</span>, you set him such
+an <i>example</i>, you see!
+(<span class="smcap">Reggie</span> <i>wonders why she
+squeezes his hand so</i>.)</p>
+
+<p><i>A Vague Man (to Saleswoman).</i>
+Er&mdash;I want a
+toy of some sort&mdash;for a
+<i>child</i>, don't you know.
+(<i>As if he might require
+it for an elderly person.</i>)
+At least, it's not <i>exactly</i>
+a child&mdash;it can <i>talk</i>, and
+all that.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width:75%">
+
+<a href="images/299.png">
+<img src="images/299.png" alt="I want a Toy of some sort; for a Child, don't you know!" width="60%" /></a>
+
+<h3>"Er&mdash;I want a Toy of some sort&mdash;for a <i>Child</i>, don't you know!"</h3>
+</div>
+
+
+<p><i>Salesw.</i> Will you step
+inside, Sir? We've a
+large assortment within
+to select from. Is it for
+a boy or a girl?</p>
+
+<p><i>The Vague Man.</i> It's
+a boy&mdash;that is, its name's
+<span class="smcap">Evelyn</span>&mdash;of course,
+that's a girl's name too;
+but it had better be some
+thing that doesn't&mdash;I
+mean something it
+can't&mdash;&mdash;
+[<i>He runs down.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>Salesw.</i> I <i>quite</i> understand,
+Sir. One of these little 'orses and carts are a very nice
+present for a child&mdash;(<i>with languid commendation</i>)&mdash;the little 'orse
+takes out and all.</p>
+
+<p><i>The V. M.</i> Um&mdash;yes&mdash;but I want something more&mdash;a different
+<i>kind</i> of thing altogether.</p>
+
+<p><i>Salesw.</i> We sell a great many of these rag-dolls; all the clothes
+take off and on.</p>
+
+<p><i>The V. M.</i> Isn't that rather&mdash;&mdash;and then, for a boy, eh?</p>
+
+<p><i>Salesw.</i> P'raps a box of wooden soldiers <i>would</i> be a more suitable
+toy for a boy, certainly.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><i>The V. M.</i> Soldiers, eh?&mdash;yes&mdash;but you see, it might turn out to
+be a girl after all&mdash;and then&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><i>Salesw.</i> I see, you want something that would do equally well for
+either. <i>Here</i>'s a toy now. (<i>She brings out a team of little tin swans on
+wheels.</i>) You fix a stick in the end&mdash;so&mdash;and wheel it in front of
+you, and all the little swans go up and down.</p>
+
+<p>[<i>She wheels it up and down without enthusiasm.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>The V. M. (inspecting it feebly).</i> Oh&mdash;the swans go up and down,
+eh? It isn't quite&mdash;but very likely it won't&mdash;May as well have that
+as something else&mdash;Yes, you can send it to&mdash;let me see&mdash;is it Hampstead
+or Notting Hill they're living at now? (<i>To the</i> Saleswoman, <i>who
+naturally cannot assist him.</i>) No, of course, <i>you</i> wouldn't know.
+Never mind, I'll take it with me&mdash;don't trouble to wrap it up!</p>
+
+<p>[<i>He carries it off&mdash;to forget it promptly in a hansom.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>A Genial Uncle (entering with Nephews and Nieces).</i> Plenty to
+choose from here, eh? Look about and see what you'd like best.</p>
+
+<p><i>Jane (the eldest, sixteen, and "quite a little woman").</i> I'm sure
+they would much rather <i>you</i> chose for them, Uncle!</p>
+
+<p><i>Uncle</i>. Bless me, <i>I</i> don't know what boys and girls like nowadays&mdash;they
+must choose for themselves!</p>
+
+<p><i>Salesw. (wearily).</i> Perhaps one of the young gentlemen would like
+a dredging-machine? The handle turns, you see, and all the little
+buckets go round the chain and take up sand or mud&mdash;or there's a
+fire-engine, <i>that's</i> a nice toy, throws a stream of real water.</p>
+
+<p>[<span class="smcap">Tommy</span>, <i>aged eleven, is charmed with the dredging-machine,
+while the fire-engine finds favour in the eyes of</i> <span class="smcap">Bobby</span>,
+<i>aged nine.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>Jane (thoughtfully).</i> I'm afraid the dredging-machine is rather a
+<i>messy</i> toy, Uncle, and the fire-engine wouldn't do at all, either&mdash;it
+would be sure to encourage them to play with fire. <span class="smcap">Bobby</span>, if you
+say "blow!" once more, I shall tell Mother. Uncle is the best
+judge of what's suitable for you!</p>
+
+<p><i>Uncle.</i> Well, there's something in what you say, <span class="smcap">Jenny</span>. We
+must see if we can't find something better, that's all.</p>
+
+<p><i>Salesw.</i> I've a little Toy-stige, 'ere&mdash;with scenes and characters
+in "<i>Richard Cured o' Lyin'</i>" complete and ready for acting&mdash;how
+would that do?</p>
+
+<p>[<span class="smcap">Tommy</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Bobby</span> <i>cheer up visibly at this suggestion.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>Jane.</i> I <i>don't</i> think Mother would like them to have <i>that</i>, Uncle&mdash;it
+might give them a <i>taste</i> for theatres, you know!</p>
+
+<p><i>Uncle.</i> Ha&mdash;so it might&mdash;very thoughtful of you, <span class="smcap">Jane</span>&mdash;Mustn't
+get in your Mother's bad books; never do! What's in these boxes?
+soldiers? How about these, eh, boys? [<i>The boys are again consoled.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>Jane (gently).</i> They're getting <i>rather</i> too big for such babyish
+things as soldiers, Uncle! I tell you what <i>I</i> think&mdash;if you got a nice
+puzzle-map for <span class="smcap">Tommy</span>&mdash;he's so backward in his Geography&mdash;and a
+drawing slate for <span class="smcap">Bobby</span>, who's getting on so nicely with his drawing,
+and a little work-box&mdash;not an <i>expensive</i> one, of course&mdash;for
+<span class="smcap">Winnie</span>, that would be <i>quite</i>&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>[<i>These sisterly counsels are rewarded by ungrateful and
+rebellious roars.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>Uncle.</i> <span class="smcap">Tommy</span>, did I hear you address your sister as a "beast"?
+Come&mdash;come! And what are you all turning on the waterworks for,
+eh? Strikes me, <span class="smcap">Jane</span>, you haven't <i>quite</i> hit off their tastes!</p>
+
+<p><i>Jane (virtuously).</i> I have only told you what I know Mother
+would <i>wish</i> them to have, Uncle; and, even if I <i>am</i> to have my
+ankles kicked for it, I'm sure I'm right!</p>
+
+<p><i>Uncle.</i> Always a consolation, my dear <span class="smcap">Jenny</span>. I'm sure no
+nephew of <i>mine</i> would kick his sister, except by the merest accident&mdash;so
+let's say no more of that. But it's no use getting 'em
+what they don't like; so suppose we stick to the fire-engine, and the
+other concern&mdash;theatre is it, <span class="smcap">Johnny</span>?&mdash;Very well&mdash;and don't you
+get <i>me</i> into trouble over 'em, that's all. And <span class="smcap">Winnie</span> would like a
+doll, eh?&mdash;that's all right. Now everybody's provided for&mdash;except
+<span class="smcap">Jane</span>!</p>
+
+<p><i>Jane (frostily).</i> Thank you, Uncle&mdash;but you seem to forget I'm
+not <i>exactly</i> a child! [<i>She walks out of the shop with dignity.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>Uncle.</i> Hullo! Put my foot in it again! But we can't leave
+<span class="smcap">Jenny</span> out of it&mdash;<i>can</i> we? Must get her a present of some sort over
+the way.... Here, <span class="smcap">Tommy</span>, my boy, you can tell me something
+she'd like.</p>
+
+<p><i>Bobby (later&mdash;to</i> <span class="smcap">Tommy</span>). What did you tell Uncle to get
+for <span class="smcap">Jane</span>?</p>
+
+<p><i>Tommy (with an unholy chuckle).</i> Why, a box with one of those
+puff-things in it. Don't you know how we caught her powdering
+her nose with Mother's? And Uncle <i>got</i> her one too! <i>Won't</i> she
+be shirty just!</p>
+
+<p>[<i>They walk out in an ecstasy of anticipation, as Scene closes.</i></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Punch's</span> Paragraphist says, "he was never good at dates,"
+not even when served in dishes, for they're dry at the best; but, of
+the very newest and best kind of Date Cards, <span class="smcap">Marcus Ward</span> &amp; Co.
+have a capital selection. Among them the <i>Grandfather's Clock</i>
+makes a pretty screen, and, being a clock, is, of course, always up to
+the time of day.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2>OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.</h2>
+
+<blockquote>The Baron's Diarist and Date Examiner makes the following exhaustive
+notes:&mdash;first that Mr. C. <span class="smcap">Letts</span> describes some of his <i>Pocket
+Diaries</i> as "The Improved." There is nothing so good but what it
+could be better. Lett's admit this, and be satisfied with the latest edition
+of Letts' Annuals, which are prizes, though, until Jan. 1, blanks.</blockquote>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<blockquote><i>The Paradise of the North</i>, by <span class="smcap">David Lawson Johnstone</span>. When
+a gentleman chooses the North Pole as a Paradise, he must be allowed
+any amount of Latitude and Longitude. This explorer leaves his
+<span class="smcap">Chambers</span> (the Publishers of that ilk) in order to get out of the
+world by the coldest route.</blockquote>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<blockquote>A note on <span class="smcap">Innes</span> &amp; Co. "Innes" has several Outs this season.
+Cheery name for a Christmas Publisher, "Innes." We take our
+ease at our Innes, and we read with pleasure their dainty books
+called, <i>Bartlemy's Child</i>, by <span class="smcap">Frances Compton</span>, a very pretty story.
+<span class="smcap">L. B. Walford</span> (the authoress of <i>Mr. Smith</i>) condescends to write
+<i>For Grown-Up Children</i>, a number of delightful tales.</blockquote>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<blockquote>Messrs. <span class="smcap">Osgood</span> as good as ever. Why not follow up their <i>Bret
+Harte Birthday Book</i> (most Harte-tistically got up) with a <i>Sweet-Heart
+Birthday Book?</i> Madame <span class="smcap">Van de Velde</span> has compiled this.
+Our sparklingest Baronite exclaims, "Velde done!"</blockquote>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<blockquote>Thanks to <span class="smcap">Marcus Ward</span> &amp; Co. for <i>The Cottar's Saturday
+Night</i>, by <span class="smcap">Robbie Burns</span>. "Oh, wad some friend the giftie gi'e
+us!"&mdash;as anyone who would like this for a Christmas present may
+say, adapting the poet to his purpose.</blockquote>
+
+<hr />
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width:50%;">
+<a href="images/300.png">
+<img src="images/300.png" alt="The Baron and his Christmas Books." width="100%" /></a>
+<h3>The Baron and his Christmas Books.</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p>"A most sweet story! A most charming story!!" gurgled the Baron,
+as, with sobs in his inner voice, talking to himself, he finished the
+penultimate chapter of <i>Dolly</i>. "Now, Mrs. <span class="smcap">Burnett</span>, if you dare
+to kill your heroine, I swear I'll never forgive you, and never read
+another of your fatally-fascinating books." The Baron trembled as
+he commenced the last chapter of the simplest, most natural, most
+touching, and most exquisitely-told story he has read for many a
+day. How would it end? A few lines sufficed. "Bless you, Mrs.
+<span class="smcap">Burnett</span>!" snivelled the Baron, not ashamed of dabbing his eyes
+with his kerchief. "Bless you, Ma'am! You have let 'em live!
+May your new book go to countless editions! May it be another
+<i>Little Lord Fauntleroy</i>, and may you reap a golden reward for
+this, your masterpiece of simple work, your latest story&mdash;<i>Dolly!</i>"
+The Baron is bound ("bound in morocco" as the slaves were, poor
+wretches!) to add that he wishes it had not been illustrated, for,
+as good wine needs no bush, so a perfect story, such as is this, needs
+no illustration; nay, is rather injured by it than not. There is
+only one small item of common-place in it, and that is making the
+would-be seducer a married man. Of course, to prove him so was
+the easiest and shortest way of saving his vain and feather-headed
+little victim. Perhaps an alternative would have involved complication,
+and might have marred the natural simplicity of the story.
+So critically the Baron states his one very small objection, and
+reverts with the utmost pleasure to the hours he spent over the tale,
+absorbed in every page, in every line of it; and herewith doth he,
+not only most strongly, but most earnestly recommend everyone to
+procure this book (published by <span class="smcap">E. Warne</span> &amp; Co.), for it is one that can
+be and must be given a place of honour by the side of <span class="smcap">Dickens</span> and
+<span class="smcap">Thackeray</span>, to be read again and again, here a bit and there a bit,
+when other works of fiction now enjoying a greater literary reputation
+(though 'twould be difficult to name them), shall be relegated
+to the lowest shelves of books that have had their day. "<i>Dixi!
+Scripsi!</i>" quoth <span class="smcap">The Learned Baron de Book-worms</span>.</p>
+
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p class="smallfont">NOTICE.&mdash;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
+103, December 24, 1892, by Various
+
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+</pre>
+
+</body>
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 103,
+December 24, 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, Volume 103, December 24, 1892
+
+Author: Various
+
+Editor: Francis Burnand
+
+Release Date: January 11, 2007 [EBook #20338]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by V. L. Simpson, Malcolm Farmer and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+  PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
+
+  VOL. 103.
+
+  DECEMBER 24, 1892.
+
+
+
+[Illustration: SNUBBING A DECADENT.
+
+_He._ "A--DON'T YOU FIND EXISTENCE AN AWFUL BORE?"
+
+_She._ "A--WELL, _SOME_ PEOPLE'S EXISTENCE--MOST DECIDEDLY!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+YULE-TIDE--OLD AND NEW.
+
+AT THE COMMENCEMENT OF THE CENTURY.
+
+And they made merry in the good old fashion. The pictures on the walls
+were covered with holly and mistletoe. They had come from British woods.
+Then the tables groaned with Christmas cheer. The baron of beef was
+flanked with plum-pudding and mince-pies. There never was a more jovial
+crew. The compliments of the season were passed round, and the Christmas
+Waits, singing their Christmas carols, were entertained right royally.
+For was it not a time of peace and good will? Then there was a mighty
+laugh. A huge joke had been perpetrated. Grandfather had been asleep,
+and he was telling the youngsters, who had been playing a round game,
+the character of his dream.
+
+"I give you my word it is true," said the old man. "Yes, I actually
+forgot it was Christmas!"
+
+"But it was only in your dreams, Grandpapa," urged one of his
+descendants.
+
+"Yes, but that was bad enough," cried the old man in a tone of
+self-reproach, "fancy forgetting Christmas--even in one's dreams!
+Everything seems changing nowadays!"
+
+But the Grandfather was wrong--the Christmas bills were unchangeable.
+And ever will be!
+
+
+AT THE END OF THE CENTURY.
+
+And certainly it was dull enough in all conscience. Nowadays everything
+is dull. Although it was towards the end of December, the room was
+decorated with summer flowers. They had come from Algeria. Then the
+side-table was spread with a _recherche_ repast, for they were all going
+to dine _a la Russe_. But the guests were sad and thoroughly bored. They
+had sent a policeman after the itinerant street-musicians, with the
+desired result. Inside and outside silence reigned triumphant. Was it
+not a time for "moving on" and threatening "six weeks without the option
+of a fine"?
+
+Then there was a deep groan. A young man--somebody's Grandson--suggested
+a round game. At first the suggestion was received with derision.
+
+"You can't get up a Missing Word Competition," said one. "No, my
+Grandson, you can't."
+
+"Can't I?" said the youngster, who had been called 'Grandson.' "Can't I?
+Look here, I will write out a Word, and I will bet you none of you will
+guess it."
+
+And "Grandson" wrote out a Word on a piece of paper, and sealed it in a
+packet. Then he called out the sentence, "The present season of the year
+is known as----"
+
+Then they all tried to guess it. Some one said "unfavourable," another
+"pleasant," a third "dreary," and a fourth "troublesome."
+
+But they all were wrong.
+
+At last the sealed-up packet was produced, and opened. For the first
+time there was a smile when the Word was known.
+
+"Who would have thought of it?" was the cry.
+
+The word chosen was "Christmas."
+
+"Fancy anyone remembering Christmas! Even for a Missing Word
+Competition! Everything seems changing nowadays!"
+
+But the Grandson was wrong--his Christmas bills were unchangeable. And
+ever will be!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+"ART COMPETITIONS."
+
+    "Since these competitions were started, the public had been educated
+    in artistic matters, and their judgment was almost equal to that of
+    the members of the Royal Academy."--_Mr. Poland's Speech in the
+    "Missing Word" case._
+
+  Mr. Poland said, at Bow Street,
+    Choosing pictures thus imparts
+  Judgment good as that of those treat-
+    Ed as foremost in the arts.
+
+  Hitherto each paid his shilling
+    At the House of Burling_ton_,
+  Gazed at pictures, feeble, thrilling,
+    Bad or good, and wandered on--
+
+  Stared with awe-struck admiration
+    At "the Picture of the Year,"
+  Gained artistic education
+    In a stuffy atmosphere.
+
+  Then all changed; he paid his shilling
+    And he sent his coupon in
+  To a weekly paper, willing
+    To discriminate the tin;
+
+  And be wisely praised or blamed, yet
+    He knew nothing of design,
+  The BRIDGE of Bow Street claimed yet
+    One more shilling as a fine.
+
+  Oh, rejoice, Academicians!
+    Learned BRIDGE knew what to do;
+  Artisans or mechanicians
+    Might have grown as wise as you.
+
+  Which would sadden any just man,
+    And might make an angel weep--
+  DICKSEE distanced by a dustman,
+    STOREY staggered by a sweep!
+
+  BOUGHTON beaten by a baker,
+    Housemaids humbling helpless HOOK;
+  STONE surpassed by sausage-maker,
+    COOPER conquered by a cook!
+
+  CROWE or CROFTS crushed by a cow-boy,
+    MILLAIS made by milkmen mad,
+  PETTIE plucked by any ploughboy,
+    LEIGHTON licked by butcher's lad!
+
+  It effected all you care for,
+    But Sir JOHN has pulled you through;
+  Bold Bow-Street's Beak is, therefore,
+    No Bridge of Sighs for you
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"A NOTE ON THE APPRECIATION OF GOLD."--Send a five-pound note (verified
+by the Bank of England) to our office, and we will undertake to get it
+changed _immediately_, and thereupon to hand over to the Bearer, in
+exchange for the note, _two golden sovereigns, and one golden
+half-sovereign, ready cash_. This will show what is _our_ appreciation
+of gold.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: THE SKELETON AT THE FEAST.]
+
+"I confess it does seem to me that certain decisions made by a competent
+tribunal hare rendered it extremely doubtful whether there is a single
+one of the 670 gentlemen who now compose the House of Commons, who might
+not find himself, by some accident, unseated, if a full investigation
+were made into everything that had taken place in his constituency, say,
+during the ten years preceding his candidature."--_Mr. Balfour at
+Sheffield._
+
+_M.P. (of any Party you please), loquitur:--_
+
+  PHEW! It's all very fine, when you gather to dine,
+    And to blow off the steam, while you blow off your 'bacca,
+  (As the farmers of Aylesbury did, when their wine
+    Was sweetened with "news from the Straits of Malacca");
+  But things are much changed since the voters of Bucks
+    Flushed red with loud fun at the phrases of DIZZY,
+  And M.P.'s are dreadfully down on their lucks,
+    Since BALFOUR'S confounded "tribunals" got busy.
+
+  What precious stiff posers to loyal Primrosers
+    Are offered by Rochester, Walsall, and Hexham!
+  Platform perorators, post-prandial glosers,
+    Must find many points to perplex 'em and vex 'em.
+  It bothers a spouter who freely would flourish
+    Coat-tails and mixed tropes at political dinners,
+  When doubts of his safety he's driven to nourish,
+    Through publicans rash and (electoral) sinners.
+
+  Good lack, and good gracious! One may be veracious,
+    And look with disgust upon bribes and forced bias,
+  Yet owing to "Agents" more hot than sagacious,
+    _Appear_ as _Autolycus-cum_-ANANIAS.
+  One might just as soon be a Man-in-the-Moon,
+    Or hark back at once to the style of Old Sarum.
+  That Act (Corrupt Practices) may be a boon.
+    But the way they apply it seems most harum-scarum.
+
+  Should a would-be M.P. ask old ladies to tea,
+    Or invite male supporters to crumpets or cricket;
+  Should a snug Party Club prove a trifle too free,
+    Or give an equivocal "treat," or hat-ticket;
+  A seven years' nursing of Slopville-on-Slime,
+    A well-fought Election and Glorious Victory
+  (Crowed o'er by proud Party prints at the time)
+    May--lose you your Seat. It does seem contradictory.
+
+  Of course, my good friends, one would not say a word,
+    Against England's glory--Electoral Purity!
+  Suspect _me_ of slighting that boon? Too absurd!
+    But what good's a Seat without _some_ small security.
+  To fight tooth and nail, land a win, and then fail
+    Along of dishon--I mean o'er-zealous "Agents"--
+  Well, well, I don't wish at our Judges to rail,
+    But--putting it plainly--I fear it won't pay, gents.
+
+  'Tis hard to attend a political feast,
+    And strut like a peacock, and crow like a bantam,
+  Yet feel at one's back, like a blast from the east,
+    A be-robed and be-wigged and blood-curdling law phantom.
+  Stentorian cheers, and uproarious hear-hears,
+    Though welcome, won't banish the sense of "wet-blanket"
+  (That's INGOLDSBY'S rhyme), when Petition-bred fears
+    Conjure up a grim Skeleton (Judge) at the Banquet!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: SUCH A HAPPY FAMILY PARTY--AT CHRISTMAS.
+
+_Uncle John_ (_losing his money and his temper_). "NOW, JANE, DO ME A
+FAVOUR FOR ONCE, AND _DON'T_ SHOW YOUR HAND!"
+
+_Aunt Jane_ (_whose best Cards her Partner has invariably
+over-trumped_). "I CAN'T HELP IT. YOU SHOW _YOUR_ HANDS, AND I'M SURE
+_THEY_'RE NO BEAUTIES!" [_After this, there's a prospect of a very
+pleasant evening._]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE SHORTEST DAY.
+
+  SHORT verse
+    We need,
+  Most terse
+    Indeed,
+  That it--
+    This lay--
+  May fit
+    This day.
+  Short sight
+    Of sun.
+  Long night,
+    Begun
+  At four,
+    Sunshine
+  Once more
+    At nine.
+  A. M.
+    Meets eyes
+  Of them
+    Who rise
+  If no
+    Fog hide--
+  Then woe
+    Betide;
+  The day
+    That ought
+  To stay
+    So short
+  A space
+    Can't show
+  Its face
+    Below.
+  But when
+    It goes,
+  Why then
+    One knows
+  New Year
+    Will soon
+  Be here--
+    Then June,
+  So bright!
+    So sweet!
+  So light!
+    We'll greet
+  The day
+    That's long
+  With gay,
+    Glad song--
+
+  Excessively long-footed verse will undoubtedly characterise what
+           we say,
+  For LONGFELLOW'S longest lines skip along when we've long longed
+           for the Longest Day.
+
+             (_Signed_) TOUCHSTONE.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    MILITARY MOTTO FOR THE NEW SOUTH LONDON OPHTHALMIC HOSPITAL OPENED
+    LAST FRIDAY BY THE DUKE OF YORK.--"Eyes right!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    THE CHOICE OF BOOKS.
+
+  To various opinions the quidnuncs give voice,
+  But the best "choice of books" means--the books of your choice.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE LAST WORD.
+
+(_A Domestic Drama of the Day before Yesterday._)
+
+
+SCENE.--_The Breakfast Room at Linoleum Lodge, the suburban residence
+of_ SAMUEL STODGEFORD, Esq. Mr. _and_ Mrs. STODGEFORD, _their son_
+PARMENAS, _and daughters_ POMPILIA _and_ PRISCILLA, _discovered at
+breakfast._
+
+_Mr. Stodgeford._ We shall probably get it by the second post, and
+though the delay is--ah--to some extent, annoying, we must not allow
+ourselves to be unduly impatient. Personally, I regard these--ah--weekly
+competitions as chiefly valuable in providing an innocent form of
+domestic recreation, and an interesting example of the--ah--value of
+words.
+
+_Parmenas S._ The value of _one_ word, I should say, Father. Last week,
+as there were very few who guessed right, it amounted to a considerable
+sum.
+
+_Mr. S._ That is a stimulant to ingenuity, no doubt, with some minds,
+but let us put that aside. We feel some natural curiosity to know
+whether we have selected the missing adjective, and I see no reason
+myself to doubt that our united efforts will this time be crowned with
+success.
+
+_Pompilia._ It is almost impossible that it won't be _one_ of the two
+hundred and fifty we sent in.
+
+_Parmenas._ I drew up a list of synonyms which, I flatter myself, was
+practically exhaustive.
+
+_Priscilla._ I dreamt I heard a voice saying quite clearly in my ear,
+"Nonsensical! nonsensical!"--like that--so I sent it in the first thing
+next morning.
+
+_Mr. S._ These--ah--supernatural monitions are not vouchsafed to us
+without a purpose. It _may_ be "nonsensical."
+
+_Mrs. S._ The only two words _I_ could think of were, "absurd" and
+"idiotic," and I'm afraid they haven't much chance.
+
+_Mr. S._ I wouldn't say that, SOPHRONIA. It is not always the most
+appropriate epithet that--let me run over the paragraph again--where is
+last week's paper? Ah, I have it. (_He procures it and reads with
+unction._) "The lark, as has been frequently observed by the poets, is
+in the habit of ascending to high altitudes in the exercise of his vocal
+functions. Scientific meteorologists, it is true, do not consider that
+there is any immediate danger of a descent of the sky, but many
+bird-catchers of experience are of opinion that, should such a
+contingency happen, the number of these feathered songsters included in
+the catastrophe would, in all probability, be simply----" It might be
+"idiotic," of course, but I fancy "incalculable," or "appalling" would
+be nearer the mark.
+
+_Parmenas._ Too obvious, _I_ should say. If you had adopted a few more
+of the words I got from _Roget's Thesaurus_, we should have been safer.
+Sending in a word like "disgusting" was sheer waste of one-and-twopence!
+And as for POMPILIA, with her synonyms to "sensational," and PRISCILLA,
+with her rubbishy superstition, depend upon it, _they_'re no good!
+
+_Pompilia._ You think you know so much, because you've been to London
+University--but _we've_ been to a High School; so we're not absolute
+_idiots_. PARMENAS!
+
+_Priscilla._ And I'm sure people have dreamt which horse was going to
+win a race over and over again!
+
+_Mr. S._ Come, come, let us have none of these unseemly disputes! And,
+when you compare a literary competition with--ah--a mere gambling
+transaction, PRISCILLA, you do a grave injustice to us all. You forget
+that we have, all of us, worked hard for success; we have given our
+whole thoughts and time to the subject. I have stayed at home from the
+office day after day. Your mother has had no leisure for the cares of
+the household; your brother has suspended his studies for his
+approaching examination, and your elder sister her labours at the East
+End--on purpose to devote our combined intelligence to the subject. And
+are we to be told that we are no better than the brainless multitude who
+speculate on horse-racing! I am not _angry_, my child, I am
+only--(_Enter_ ROBERT, _the_ Page, _with a paper in a postal wrapper.)
+Tiddler's Miscellany_--ha, at last! Why didn't you bring it up before,
+Sir? You must have known it was important!
+
+_Robert._ Please, Sir, it's on'y just come, Sir.
+
+_Mr. S. (snatching the paper from him, and tearing it open; the other
+members of the family crowd round excitedly)._ Now we shall see! Where's
+the place? Confound the thing! Why can't they print the result in
+a----(_His face falls._) What are you waiting for, Sir? Leave the room!
+
+[_To_ ROBERT, _who has lingered about the sideboard._
+
+_Robert._ Beg pardon, Sir, but would you mind reading out the
+Word--'cause I'm----
+
+_The Family._ Read the Word, Papa, do!
+
+_Mr. S. (keeping the Journal)._ All in good time. (_Addressing_ ROBERT.)
+Am I to understand, Sir, that you have actually had the presumption to
+engage in this competition?--an uneducated young rascal like you!
+
+_Robert._ I didn't mean no harm, Sir, I sent in nothink--it was on'y a
+lark, Sir!
+
+_The Family (dancing with suspense)._ Oh, never mind ROBERT now,
+Father--do read out the Word!
+
+_Mr. S. (ignoring their anxiety)._ If you sent in nothing, Sir, so much
+the better. But, in case you should be tempted to such a piece of
+infatuation in future, let me tell you this by way of--ah--warning. I
+and my family, have, with every advantage that superior education and
+abilities can bestow, sent in, after prolonged and careful deliberation,
+no less than two hundred and fifty separate solutions, and not a single
+one of these solutions, Sir, proves to be the correct one!
+
+_The Family (collapsing on the nearest chairs)._ Oh, it can't be
+true--one of them _must_ be right!
+
+_Mr. S._ Unfortunately, they are not. I will read you the sentence as
+completed. _(Reads.)_ "Should such a contingency happen, the number of
+these feathered songsters included in the catastrophe would, in all
+probability, be simply--ah--_nought_!" Now I venture to assert that
+nothing short of--ah--absolute genius could possibly----(_To_ ROBERT.)
+What do you mean by interrupting me, Sir?
+
+_Robert._ Please, Sir, _I_ said nothink, Sir!
+
+_Pompilia._ Oh, what _does_ it matter? Give me the paper, Papa. _(She
+snatches it.)_ Oh, listen to this:--"The number of solutions sent in was
+five hundred thousand, which means that twenty-five thousand pounds
+remain for division. The only competitor who gave the correct solution
+was Mr. ROBERT CONKLING, of Linoleum Lodge, Camberwell...." _Oh!_ Why,
+that's _you_, ROBERT!
+
+_Robert._ Yes, Miss, I told you I said "Nothink," Miss. I'm sure if I'd
+thought----
+
+_Mr. S. (gasping)._ Twenty-five thousand pounds! Ah, ROBERT, I trust you
+will not forget that this piece of--ah--unmerited good fortune was
+acquired by you under this humble roof. Shake hands, my boy!
+
+_Pompilia._ Wait, Papa--don't shake hands till I've
+done--_(continuing)--_"Mr. CONKLING, however, having elected to
+disregard our conditions, requiring the solution to be written out in
+full, and to express the word "Nought" by a cipher, we cannot consider
+him legally entitled to the prize----"
+
+_Mr. S._ How dare you use my private address for your illiterate
+attempts, Sir?
+
+_Prisc. (seizing the paper)._ Why don't you read it all?----"We are
+prepared, nevertheless, to waive this informality, and a cheque for the
+full amount of twenty-five thousand pounds, payable to his order, will
+be forwarded to Mr. CONKLING accordingly----"
+
+_Mr. S._ Well, ROBERT, you deserve it, I must say--shake
+hands!--I--ah--_mean_ it.
+
+_Robert._ Thankee, Sir, I'm sure--it was Cook and JANE 'elped me, Sir,
+but--(_dolefully_)--I sold my chanst to the butcher-boy, for tuppence
+and a mouth-orgin, Sir.
+
+[Illustration: "I sold my Chanst to the Butcher-boy!"]
+
+_Mr. S._ You unspeakable young idiot! But there, you will know better
+another time; and now go out at once, and order five hundred copies of
+_Tiddler_--a periodical which offers such intellectual
+and--ah--substantial advantages, deserves some encouragement. (_Exit_
+ROBERT.) Now Mother, PARMENAS, girls--all of you, let us set to work,
+and see--just for the--ah--fun of the thing--if we can't be more
+fortunate with the _next_ competition. We'll have Cook and JANE,
+and--ah--ROBERT in to help; the housework can look after itself for once
+... what is it _now_, PRISCILLA?
+
+_Prisc. (faintly)._ I've just seen this. (_Reads._) "In consequence of
+the recent decision at Bow Street, those who send solutions for this,
+and any future competitions, will not be required to forward any
+remittance with their coupons----"
+
+_Mr. S._ (_approvingly_). An admirable arrangement--puts a stop at once
+to any pernicious tendency to--ah--speculation!
+
+_Prisc._ (_continuing_)--"and successful competitors must, we fear, be
+content with no other reward than that of honourable mention."
+
+_Mr. S._ Here, send after ROBERT, somebody! It's scandalous that the
+precious time of a whole family should be frittered away in these
+unedifying and--ah--idiotic competitions. I will not allow another
+_Tiddler_ to enter my house!
+
+_Robert_ (_entering with his arms full of "Tiddlers"_). Please, Sir, I
+brought a 'undred, Sir, and they'll send up the rest as soon as ever
+they----Oh Lor, Sir, I on'y done as I was told, Sir!
+
+[_He is pounced upon, severely cuffed by a righteously indignant family,
+and sent flying in a whirlwind of tattered "Tiddlers," as the Scene
+closes._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+LAYS OF MODERN HOME.
+
+THE MUFFIN MAN.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+  Ah! welcome, through autumnal mist,
+  For each returning ruralist,
+  Waif metropolitan, to list
+              Thy tinkle unto.
+
+  No sound of seas or bees or trees
+  Can Londoners so truly please--
+  The cheapest epicure with ease
+              Thy dainties run to.
+
+  They need not, like the fruits on sticks,
+  The fruits Venetian boyhood licks,
+  A voice with operatic tricks
+              Their praise to trumpet.
+
+  The simple bell shall, fraught with sense
+  Of teapot, urn, and hearth intense.
+  Best herald thee and thy commensurable
+              crumpet.
+
+  Lives there a cit with soul so dead
+  Who never to himself hath said,
+  "This is my crisp, my native-bred,
+              My British muffin!"?
+
+  Let picturesque Autolyci
+  Their cloying foreign dainties cry;
+  _I_ don't see much to buy, not I,
+              Such messy stuff in!
+
+  Mysterious vagrant, dost prepare
+  Thyself that inexpensive fare;
+  Thyself, partake of it--and _where?_--
+              The boon thou sellest?
+
+  'Tis Home, where'er it be; thy load
+  Can cheer the pauper's dark abode,
+  And lack of it, with gloom corrode
+              The very swellest.
+
+  There are who deem it vulgar fun
+  For dressy bachelors to run
+  Themselves to stop thee; I'm not one
+              So nicely silly:
+
+  _I_'m not ashamed to track thy way,
+  And test the triumphs of thy tray,
+  And bring them back in paper, say,
+              To Piccadilly.
+
+  Yes, heedless of a gibing town,
+  To hand them PHYLLIS, sit me down,
+  And wait, till they come up in brown
+              And glossy sections.
+
+  Then, brew my cup--the best Ceylon--
+  And, bidding care and chill begone,
+  Concentre heart and mouth upon
+              Thy warm perfections.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+MONTECARLOTTERY.
+
+    [It remains true that for those who want a brief and exhilarating
+    change, and are glad to reap for the nonce the harvest of a quiet
+    eye, there are spots within the borders of England which, both in
+    climate and in scenery, can vie with the proudest and most vaunted
+    watering-places of the Sunny South."--_Daily Paper._]
+
+_Damon on the Riviera, to Pythias at Torquay._--"Here I am, by the blue
+Mediterranean! At least, the attendant of the sleeping-car says the
+Mediterranean is somewhere about, only, as a violent rain-storm is going
+on, we can't see it. Very tired by journey. Feel that, after all, you
+were probably right in deciding to try the coast of Devonshire this
+winter, instead of Riviera."
+
+_Pythias at Torquay, to Damon at Nice._--"Coast of Devonshire
+delightful, so far. Pleasant run down from London by G. W. R.--only five
+hours. Thought of and pitied your crossing to Calais, and long
+night-and-day journey after. You should just see our geraniums and
+fuchsias, growing out-of-doors in winter! Mind and tell me in your next
+how the olives and orange-trees look."
+
+_Damon to Pythias._--"Olives all diseased--have not seen an orange-tree
+yet--there is my reply to the query in your last. Hitherto I have not
+had much opportunity of seeing anything, as the mistral has been
+blowing, and it has been rather colder than England in March. Wretched
+cold in my head. No decent fires--only pine-cones and logs to burn,
+instead of coal! Wish I were at Torquay with you!"
+
+_Pythias to Damon._--"Sorry to hear that Riviera is such a failure. More
+pleased than ever with Devonshire. Glorious warm sunshine to-day.
+Natives say they hardly ever have frost. Children digging on sand on
+Christmas Eve--too hot for great-coat. Rain comes down occasionally, but
+then it dries up in no time. Quite a little Earthly Paradise. Glad I
+found it out."
+
+_Later from Damon._--"Riviera better. Mistral gone. Sun warm, and have
+seen my first orange-tree. Have also found that there's a place called
+Monte Carlo near Nice. Have you ever heard of it? There's a Casino
+there, where they have free concerts. Off there now!"
+
+_Later from Pythias._--"After all, Devonshire _is_ sometimes a little
+damp. Yes, I _have_ heard of Monte Carlo Casino, and I wish there was
+anything of the sort at Torquay. Walks and drives pretty, but
+monotonous. Hills annoying. Still, evidently far superior to any part of
+Riviera.
+
+_Still later from Damon._--"Glorious place, Monte Carlo. Superb grounds!
+Scenery lovely, and Casinery still lovelier! And, between ourselves, I
+have already more than paid for expenses of my trip by my winnings at
+the Tables. No time for more just now. Must back the red!"
+
+_Reply to above from Pythias._--"Very sorry to hear you have been
+playing at the Tables. Sure to end in ruin. By the bye, what system do
+you use? The subject interests me merely as a mathematical problem, of
+course. Wish _I_ could pay expenses of my Devonshire hotel so easily.
+But then one ought to have _some_ reward for visiting such a dreary
+place as the Riviera, with its Mistrals, and diseased olive-trees, and
+all that."
+
+_Latest from Damon._--"Since writing my last letter, my views of the
+Riviera have altered. The climate, I find, does not suit me. Sun doesn't
+shine as much as I expected--not at night, for instance. Then the
+existence of an olive disease anywhere near is naturally very
+_degoutant_ (as they say here). And the Casino at Monte Carlo is simply
+an organised swindle. It ought to be put down! After staking ten times
+in succession on "Zero," and doubling my stake each time, I was
+absolutely cleared out! Only just enough money to take me home. Shall
+follow your example, and try Torquay for the rest of the winter."
+
+_Latest from Pythias._--"Just a hasty line to say--_don't_ come to
+Torquay! I am leaving it. Since I last wrote, my views of Devonshire
+have also altered. Can't conceal from myself that the climate is a
+mistake. Damp, dull, and depressing. Your account of Monte Carlo--_not_
+the Casino, of course--so enchanting, that I've determined to try it.
+Just off to London to catch '_train de luxe!_'"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE MISSING WORD.
+
+(_By a much-badgered Barmaid._)
+
+  Each boobyish bar-lounger calls me "dear,"
+    And "Misses" me in manner most absurd.
+  I should not miss _him_! But the boss, I fear,
+  Would miss his custom; so I still must hear
+    His odious "Miss-ing" word!
+  But oh! I'd sooner bear a monkey's kisses,
+  Than some of these cheap mashers' mincing
+    "Misses"!
+  And there is one young ape!--I'd stand "two d"
+  Could I hit him each time he "Misses" me!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+QUEER QUERIES.
+
+[Illustration: Notes]
+
+AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL.--I should be glad to know whether it would be
+advisable for me to write a book of "Reminiscences," as I see is now the
+fashion. My life has been chiefly passed in a moorland-village in
+Yorkshire, so that it has not been very eventful, and I have never
+written anything before; still the public might like to hear my opinions
+on things in general, and I think I could make the anecdote of how our
+kitchen chimney once caught fire--which would be the most important
+incident chronicled--rather thrilling. Among interesting and eminent
+persons I have met, and of whom I could give some account in my
+forthcoming work, are Mr. GLADSTONE (who passed through our station in a
+train going at fifty miles an hour while I was on the platform), Lord
+SALISBURY whom I met (under similar circumstances, and the back of whose
+head I feel confident that I actually saw) and the LORD CHIEF JUSTICE of
+England, who ordered an Usher to remove me from his Court at the Assizes
+as I was (incorrectly) alleged to be snoring. I should be glad to hear
+of any leading Publisher who would be likely to offer a good price for
+such a book.--RUSTICUS EXPECTANS.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: PRIVATE THEATRICALS. A REHEARSAL.
+
+_The Captain._ "AT THIS STAGE OF THE PROCEEDINGS I'VE GOT TO KISS YOU,
+LADY GRACE. WILL YOUR HUSBAND MIND, DO YOU THINK?"
+
+_Lady Grace._ "OH NO! IT'S FOR A _CHARITY_, YOU KNOW!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"CHRISTMAS IS COMING!"
+
+  "Christmas _is_ coming!" Pleasant truth
+    To all--save the dyspeptic!
+  To most in whom some smack of youth
+    Hath influence antiseptic.
+  Pessimists prate, and prigs be-rate
+    The time of mirth and holly;
+  But why should time-soured sages "slate"
+    The juvenile and jolly?
+  "Though some churls at our mirth repine"
+    (As old GEORGE WITHER put it),
+  We'll whiff our weed, and sip our wine,
+    And watch the youngsters foot it.
+  They did so in quaint WITHER'S time,
+    When wassail-bowls were humming,
+  And still girls laugh, and church-bells chime,
+    Because--"Christmas is coming!"
+
+  "Christmas is coming!" Let him bring
+    Mirth to the toiling million.
+  What is't he bears--a gracious thing--
+    Behind him on the pillion?
+  Her snowy garb, and smile benign,
+    Make sunshine in dark places;
+  The gentlest, rarest, most divine
+    Of all the Christian graces.
+  Her eyes are full of loving light,
+    Her hands with gifts are laden;
+  True Yule-tide Almoner, of right,
+    This _Una_-pure sweet maiden!
+  She smiles on all, full-feeding mirth,
+    Young love, mad motley mumming;
+  There is loss dearth of joy on earth,
+    Because--"Christmas is coming!"
+
+  A Merry Christmas? Round each room
+    That's writ in leaf and berry;
+  But there be those, alas! to whom
+    There's mockery in the "Merry."
+  Merry?--when sorrow loads the heart,
+    And nothing loads the larder?
+  In the world's play the poor man's part
+    At Yule-tide seems yet harder.
+  Good cheer to him who hungry goes,
+    And mirth to her who sorrows,
+  Lend bitter chill to Christmas snows.
+    Small joy care's bondsman borrows.
+  From jollity he may not share,
+    Despair is darkly drumming
+  At his dull breast, whose hearth won't flare,
+    Because--"Christmas is coming!"
+
+  Good Greybeard Sire, you would not tire
+    Gay youth with tales of trouble;
+  World-gladness is your heart's desire,
+    And so you're--riding double!
+  Pleasant to see dear Charity
+    Close pillion-poised behind you,
+  Eager to bid her gifts fly free,
+    We're happy so to find you.
+  Ride on, and scatter largesse wide!
+    Sore need is still no rarity,
+  For all our Progress, Power, and Pride,
+    We can't dispense with Charity.
+  Ride on, kind pair, and may the air
+    With happiness be humming,
+  And poverty shake off despair,
+    Because--"Christmas is coming!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    RATHER TOO PREMATURE.--We see "_Christmas Leaves_" advertised
+    everywhere in glaring colours. This announcement is too early.
+    "_Christmas Comes_," it should be, and then, any time after the
+    25th, will be appropriate for the announcement of his departure.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE PORTER'S SLAM.
+
+    [A meeting at Manchester has raised a protest against the nuisance
+    caused by the needlessly loud "slamming" of railway carriage doors.]
+
+  The porter has a patent "slam,"
+    Which smites one like a blow,
+  And everywhere that porter comes,
+    That "slam" is sure to go.
+  It strikes upon the tym-pa-num
+    Like shock of dynamite;
+  By day it nearly makes you dumb--
+    It deafens you at night.
+  When startled by that patent "slam,"
+    The pious pas-sen-jare,
+  Says something else that ends in "am,"
+    (Or he has patience rare.)
+  Not only does it cause a shock,
+    But--Manchester remarks--
+  "Depreciates the rolling stock,"
+    Well, that is rather larks!
+  _That_'s not the point. The porter's slam
+    Conduces to insanity,
+  And, though as mild as MARY's lamb,
+    Drives men to loud profanity.
+  If Manchester the "slam" can stay
+    By raising of a stir,
+  All railway-travellers will say,
+    "Bully for Man-ches-ter!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    _Kelly's Directory for_ 1893.--Invaluable, and considered as
+    "portable property" (to quote _Pip's_ friend), admirably suited for
+    the pocket of any individual who should happen to be about
+    twenty-five feet high. _How to use it?_ Why--see inside--it is full
+    of "Directions."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: "CHRISTMAS IS COMING!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+MIXED NOTIONS.--No. II. UGANDA.
+
+SCENE--_As before, a Railway-carriage in a suburban morning train to
+London. Persons also as before--namely, two_ Well-informed Men, _an_
+Inquirer, _and an_ Average Man.
+
+_First Well-informed Man_ (_laying down his paper_). So the Government's
+going to stick to Uganda, after all. I had a notion, from the beginning,
+they wouldn't be allowed to scuttle.
+
+_Average Man._ Ah--I don't know that I'm particularly enthusiastic about
+Uganda.
+
+_Inquirer._ Why not?
+
+_A. M._ What are we going to get out of it?--that's the question. We go
+interfering all over the world, grabbing here, and grabbing there,
+merely in order to keep other people out; and then some nigger King,
+with a cold in his head, sneezes as he passes the Union Jack. That's an
+insult to the flag, of course; so off goes an expedition, and, before
+you know where you are, we've spent about ten millions, and added a few
+thousand acres of swamp to the Empire. Why can't we leave things alone?
+Haven't we got enough?
+
+_First W. I. M._ That's all very well, I daresay; but you forget that
+the Berlin Conference made Uganda one of our spheres of influence.
+
+_Inquirer._ When was that?
+
+_First W. I. M._ Why, just after the Franco-Prussian War. They all met
+in Berlin to settle up everything--and we got Uganda.
+
+_Inquirer._ I thought it was later than that, somehow.
+
+_First W. I. M._ Well, anyhow, it was somewhere about that time. I don't
+pledge myself to a year or two. But what I say about Uganda is this.
+We're there--or rather the Company is--and we should simply disgrace
+ourselves before the whole world if we chucked up the sponge now. And,
+if we did, we should have France or Germany nipping in directly.
+
+_Second W. I. M._ They can't.
+
+_First W. I. M._ Why not?
+
+_Second W. I. M._ Why not! Because it's our sphere of influence whatever
+happens.
+
+_Inquirer_ (_timidly_). I'm afraid you'll think me very ignorant, but I
+don't quite know what a "sphere of influence" is. I've read a lot about
+it lately, but I can't quite make it out.
+
+_Second W. I. M._ (_condescendingly_). Yes, I know it's deuced difficult
+to keep up with these new notions, unless you're in the way of hearing
+all about them. Spheres of influence mean--well, don't you know, they
+mean some country that's not quite yours, but it's more yours than
+anybody else's, and if anybody else comes into it, you're allowed to
+make a protocol of it. Besides, it gives you a right to the Hinterland,
+you know.
+
+_Inquirer_ (_dubiously_). Ah, I see. What's the Hinterland?
+
+_Second W. I. M._ (_stumped_). I fancy it's about the most fertile part
+of Africa. (_To First W. I. M._) Isn't it?
+
+_First W. I. M._ Yes, that's it. It's the German for Highlands.
+
+_Inquirer._ Of course, so it is. I might have thought of that.
+
+_Average Man_ (_to First W. I. M._). Seems to me you've none of you got
+hold of the right point. What I want to know is, does Uganda pay? LUGARD
+says it don't; the Company hasn't made anything of it, and they've got
+to go whether they like it or not; though I daresay they're deuced glad
+to be out of the hole. But, if it don't pay, what on earth are we going
+to do with it?
+
+_Second W I. M._ (_triumphantly reinforcing him_). Yes, what on earth
+are we to do with it?
+
+_First W. I. M._ (_calmly, but contemptuously_). Ah! I see you're both
+little-England men. From your point of view, I daresay you're right
+enough. But I'm one of those who believe that we must stick on wherever
+we've planted the flag. I agree with MOLTKE, that the nation that gives
+up is in a state of decay.
+
+_Second W. I. M._ It wasn't MOLTKE who said that; it was VICTOR HUGO, or
+(_after a pause_) Lord PALMERSTON.
+
+_First W. I. M._ Well, it doesn't matter who said it. The point is, it's
+true. Besides, what are you going to do about the slaves and the
+Missionaries?
+
+_Average Man._ Oh, bother the Missionaries!
+
+_First W. I. M._ It's all very well to say "bother the Missionaries!"
+but that won't get you any further. They're our fellow-creatures after
+all, and what's more, they're our fellow-countrymen, so we've got to
+look after them.
+
+_Average Man._ I should let the whole lot of Missionaries fight it out
+together. They only keep quarrelling amongst themselves, and trying to
+bag one another's converts; and then France and England get involved.
+
+_Inquirer._ By the way, where is Uganda, exactly?
+
+_First W. I. M._ Just behind Zanzibar--or somewhere about there. You can
+get to it best from Mashonaland. Didn't you see that RHODES said he was
+going to make a telegraph-line through there? It used to belong to the
+SULTAN OF ZANZIBAR. Don't you remember?
+
+_Inquirer._ Of course; so it did.
+
+[_Train draws up at Terminus._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: A SALVE FOR THE CONSCIENCE.
+
+_Vegetarian Professor._ "NO, MADAM, NOT EVEN FISH. I CANNOT SANCTION THE
+DESTRUCTION OF LIFE. THESE LITTLE ANIMALS, FOR INSTANCE, WERE BUT
+YESTERDAY SWIMMING HAPPILY IN THE SEA."
+
+_Mrs. O'Laughlan._ "OH BUT, PROFESSOR, JUST THINK IT'S THE FIRST TIME
+THE POOR LITTLE THINGS HAVE EVER BEEN REALLY WARM IN THEIR LIVES!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"'TWAS WHISPERED IN HEAVEN, 'TWAS MUTTERED IN H----." _A propos_ of the
+much-discussed article written by Dr. ST. GEORGE MIVART in _The
+Nineteenth Century_, on "Happiness in Hell."--begging pardon for
+uttering a word "unmentionable to ears polite,"--our old friend 'ARRY
+writes thusly:--"Sir,--We 'ave all of us been familiar for years with
+the well-known 'Mivart's 'Otel.' If the clever Professor is correct,
+this name ought to be changed, as there ain't no such a place; and, in
+future, when alluded to, it ought to be called _Mivart's Cool 'el._ Am I
+right?
+
+    "Yours truly, THE 'ARRY OPAGITE."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    In "Lucky Shoes," baskets, and in other dainty trifles, does RIMMEL
+    arrange his beautiful bottles of scent. RIMMEL is not a Head Centre,
+    but our Chief Scenter, "and," exclaims Mr. WAGSTAFF, the Unabashed,
+    "what a great day will be his Scentenary!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    "THE SILENT BATTLE."--See this charming piece at the Criterion. Of
+    course it is brought out by Mr. CHARLES WYNDHAM in illustration of
+    the old proverb, "_Acts, not words._"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: HAPPY AND NOVEL COMBINATION! THE HARMONIOUS CHRISTMAS
+"PARTY."]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+CHOOSING CHRISTMAS TOYS.
+
+(_A Sketch in the Lowther Arcade._)
+
+
+_Between the sloping banks of toys, and under a dense foliage of
+coloured rosettes, calico banners, and Japanese-lanterns, the congested
+Stream of Custom oozes slowly along, with an occasional overflow into
+the backwaters of the shops behind, while the Stall-keepers keep up a
+batrachian and almost automatic croak of invitation._
+
+_Fond Grandmother._ So you've chosen a box of soldiers, have you,
+FRANKY?--very well. Now what shall we get for little ELSIE and Baby?
+
+_Franky (promptly)._ Another box of soldiers would do nicely for ELSIE,
+Grandmamma, and--_I_ know, a fort for Baby!
+
+_Grandm. (doubtfully)._ But they're such _little_ tots--they won't know
+how to play with them.
+
+_Franky._ Oh, but I can _teach_ them, you know, Grandmamma.
+
+_Grandm._ That's right--I like to see a boy kind to his little sisters.
+
+[_She adopts_ Master FRANKY'S _disinterested suggestion._
+
+_A Mother._ Now, PERCY, it's all nonsense--you _can't_ want any more
+toys--those you've got are as good as new. (_To her Friend._) He's such
+a boy for taking care of his things--he'll hardly trust his toys out of
+their boxes, and won't allow anyone else to _touch_ them!
+
+_The Friend._ Dear little fellow--then I'm sure he _deserves_ to be
+given a new toy for being so careful!
+
+_The Mother._ Well, he'll give me no peace till I _do_ give him
+something. I know--but mind this, PERCY, it's only to keep you quiet,
+and I'm not going to buy EDDIE anything. _(To Friend.)_ He gives all
+_his_ things away as it is! [Master PERCY _takes both these valuable
+moral lessons to heart_.
+
+_Mrs. Stilton (to her less prosperous Sister-in-law_, Mrs. BLOOMOLD).
+Nonsense, VINNIE, I won't _hear_ of it! REGGIE has more toys already
+than he knows what to do with!
+
+_Mrs. Bloom. (apologetically)._ Of course, my dear SOPHIA, I know your
+children are born to every----but still, I have no one but myself
+_now_, you know--and if I _might_--it would be such a _pleasure_!
+
+_Mrs. Stilton._ I have already told you there is not the slightest
+occasion for your spending your money in any such foolish manner. I hope
+that is enough.
+
+_Mrs. Bloom._ I'm sure he would like one of these little
+water-carts--now _wouldn't_ you, REGGIE? [REGGIE _assents shyly_.
+
+_Mrs. Stilton._ Buy him one, by all means--he will probably take the
+colour out of my new carpets with it--but, of course, _that_'s of no
+consequence to _you_!
+
+_Mrs. Bloom._ Oh dear, I _quite_ forgot your beautiful carpets. No, to
+be sure, that might----but one of those little butcher's shops,
+now!--they're really _quite_ cheap!
+
+_Mrs. S._ _I_ always thought cheapness was a question of what a person
+could _afford_.
+
+_Mrs. Bloom._ But I _can_ afford it, dear SOPHIA--thanks to dear JOHN'S
+bounty, and--and _yours_.
+
+_Mrs. S._ You mustn't thank _me_. _I_ had nothing to do with it. I
+warned JOHN at the time that it would only----and it seems I was right.
+And REGGIE has a butcher's shop--a really good one--already. In fact, I
+couldn't tell you what he _hasn't_ got!
+
+_Reggie._ _I_ can, though, Aunt VINNIE. I haven't got a train, for _one_
+thing! (_To his Mother, as she drags him on._) I _should_ like a little
+tin train, to go by clockwork on rails so. Do let Auntie----what's she
+staying behind for?
+
+_Mrs. Bloom. (catching them up, and thrusting a box into_ REGGIE'S
+_hands)._ There, dear boy, there's your train--with Aunt VINNIE'S love!
+(REGGIE _opens the box, and discovers a wooden train_.) What's the
+matter, darling? Isn't it----?
+
+_Mrs. S._ He had rather set his heart on a clockwork one with
+rails--which I was thinking of getting for him--but I am sure he's very
+much obliged to his Aunt all the same--_aren't_ you, REGINALD?
+
+_Reggie (with a fortunate inspiration)._ Thank you _ever_ so much,
+Auntie! And I like this train better than a tin one--because all the
+doors open really--it's _exactly_ what I wanted!
+
+_Mrs. S._ That's so like REGGIE--he never says anything to hurt people's
+feelings if he can possibly help it.
+
+_Mrs. B. (with meek ambiguity)._ Ah, dear SOPHIA, you set him such an
+_example_, you see! (REGGIE _wonders why she squeezes his hand so_.)
+
+[Illustration: "Er--I want a Toy of some sort--for a _Child_, don't you
+know!"]
+
+_A Vague Man (to Saleswoman)._ Er--I want a toy of some sort--for a
+_child_, don't you know. (_As if he might require it for an elderly
+person._) At least, it's not _exactly_ a child--it can _talk_, and all
+that.
+
+_Salesw._ Will you step inside, Sir? We've a large assortment within to
+select from. Is it for a boy or a girl?
+
+_The Vague Man._ It's a boy--that is, its name's EVELYN--of course,
+that's a girl's name too; but it had better be some thing that
+doesn't--I mean something it can't----[_He runs down._
+
+_Salesw._ I _quite_ understand, Sir. One of these little 'orses and
+carts are a very nice present for a child--(_with languid
+commendation_)--the little 'orse takes out and all.
+
+_The V. M._ Um--yes--but I want something more--a different _kind_ of
+thing altogether.
+
+_Salesw._ We sell a great many of these rag-dolls; all the clothes take
+off and on.
+
+_The V. M._ Isn't that rather----and then, for a boy, eh?
+
+_Salesw._ P'raps a box of wooden soldiers _would_ be a more suitable toy
+for a boy, certainly.
+
+_The V. M._ Soldiers, eh?--yes--but you see, it might turn out to be a
+girl after all--and then----
+
+_Salesw._ I see, you want something that would do equally well for
+either. _Here_'s a toy now. (_She brings out a team of little tin swans
+on wheels._) You fix a stick in the end--so--and wheel it in front of
+you, and all the little swans go up and down.
+
+[_She wheels it up and down without enthusiasm._
+
+_The V. M. (inspecting it feebly)._ Oh--the swans go up and down, eh? It
+isn't quite--but very likely it won't--May as well have that as
+something else--Yes, you can send it to--let me see--is it Hampstead or
+Notting Hill they're living at now? (_To the_ Saleswoman, _who naturally
+cannot assist him._) No, of course, _you_ wouldn't know. Never mind,
+I'll take it with me--don't trouble to wrap it up!
+
+[_He carries it off--to forget it promptly in a hansom._
+
+_A Genial Uncle (entering with Nephews and Nieces)._ Plenty to choose
+from here, eh? Look about and see what you'd like best.
+
+_Jane (the eldest, sixteen, and "quite a little woman")._ I'm sure they
+would much rather _you_ chose for them, Uncle!
+
+_Uncle._ Bless me, _I_ don't know what boys and girls like
+nowadays--they must choose for themselves!
+
+_Salesw. (wearily)._ Perhaps one of the young gentlemen would like a
+dredging-machine? The handle turns, you see, and all the little buckets
+go round the chain and take up sand or mud--or there's a fire-engine,
+_that's_ a nice toy, throws a stream of real water.
+
+[TOMMY, _aged eleven, is charmed with the dredging-machine, while the
+fire-engine finds favour in the eyes of_ BOBBY, _aged nine._
+
+_Jane (thoughtfully)._ I'm afraid the dredging-machine is rather a
+_messy_ toy, Uncle, and the fire-engine wouldn't do at all, either--it
+would be sure to encourage them to play with fire. BOBBY, if you say
+"blow!" once more, I shall tell Mother. Uncle is the best judge of
+what's suitable for you!
+
+_Uncle._ Well, there's something in what you say, JENNY. We must see if
+we can't find something better, that's all.
+
+_Salesw._ I've a little Toy-stige, 'ere--with scenes and characters in
+"_Richard Cured o' Lyin'_" complete and ready for acting--how would that
+do?
+
+[TOMMY _and_ BOBBY _cheer up visibly at this suggestion._
+
+_Jane._ I _don't_ think Mother would like them to have _that_, Uncle--it
+might give them a _taste_ for theatres, you know!
+
+_Uncle._ Ha--so it might--very thoughtful of you, JANE--Mustn't get in
+your Mother's bad books; never do! What's in these boxes? soldiers? How
+about these, eh, boys? [_The boys are again consoled._
+
+_Jane (gently)._ They're getting _rather_ too big for such babyish
+things as soldiers, Uncle! I tell you what _I_ think--if you got a nice
+puzzle-map for TOMMY--he's so backward in his Geography--and a drawing
+slate for BOBBY, who's getting on so nicely with his drawing, and a
+little work-box--not an _expensive_ one, of course--for WINNIE, that
+would be _quite_----
+
+[_These sisterly counsels are rewarded by ungrateful and rebellious
+roars._
+
+_Uncle._ TOMMY, did I hear you address your sister as a "beast"?
+Come--come! And what are you all turning on the waterworks for, eh?
+Strikes me, JANE, you haven't _quite_ hit off their tastes!
+
+_Jane (virtuously)._ I have only told you what I know Mother would
+_wish_ them to have, Uncle; and, even if I _am_ to have my ankles kicked
+for it, I'm sure I'm right!
+
+_Uncle._ Always a consolation, my dear JENNY. I'm sure no nephew of
+_mine_ would kick his sister, except by the merest accident--so let's
+say no more of that. But it's no use getting 'em what they don't like;
+so suppose we stick to the fire-engine, and the other concern--theatre
+is it, JOHNNY?--Very well--and don't you get _me_ into trouble over 'em,
+that's all. And WINNIE would like a doll, eh?--that's all right. Now
+everybody's provided for--except JANE!
+
+_Jane (frostily)._ Thank you, Uncle--but you seem to forget I'm not
+_exactly_ a child! [_She walks out of the shop with dignity._
+
+_Uncle._ Hullo! Put my foot in it again! But we can't leave JENNY out of
+it--_can_ we? Must get her a present of some sort over the way.... Here,
+TOMMY, my boy, you can tell me something she'd like.
+
+_Bobby (later--to_ TOMMY). What did you tell Uncle to get for JANE?
+
+_Tommy (with an unholy chuckle)._ Why, a box with one of those
+puff-things in it. Don't you know how we caught her powdering her nose
+with Mother's? And Uncle _got_ her one too! _Won't_ she be shirty just!
+
+[_They walk out in an ecstasy of anticipation, as Scene closes._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+MR. PUNCH'S Paragraphist says, "he was never good at dates," not even
+when served in dishes, for they're dry at the best; but, of the very
+newest and best kind of Date Cards, MARCUS WARD & Co. have a capital
+selection. Among them the _Grandfather's Clock_ makes a pretty screen,
+and, being a clock, is, of course, always up to the time of day.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.
+
+    The Baron's Diarist and Date Examiner makes the following exhaustive
+    notes:--first that Mr. C. LETTS describes some of his _Pocket
+    Diaries_ as "The Improved." There is nothing so good but what it
+    could be better. Lett's admit this, and be satisfied with the latest
+    edition of Letts' Annuals, which are prizes, though, until Jan. 1,
+    blanks.
+
+    _The Paradise of the North_, by DAVID LAWSON JOHNSTONE. When a
+    gentleman chooses the North Pole as a Paradise, he must be allowed
+    any amount of Latitude and Longitude. This explorer leaves his
+    CHAMBERS (the Publishers of that ilk) in order to get out of the
+    world by the coldest route.
+
+    A note on INNES & Co. "Innes" has several Outs this season. Cheery
+    name for a Christmas Publisher, "Innes." We take our ease at our
+    Innes, and we read with pleasure their dainty books called,
+    _Bartlemy's Child_, by FRANCES COMPTON, a very pretty story. L. B.
+    WALFORD (the authoress of _Mr. Smith_) condescends to write _For
+    Grown-Up Children_, a number of delightful tales.
+
+    Messrs. OSGOOD as good as ever. Why not follow up their _Bret Harte
+    Birthday Book_ (most Harte-tistically got up) with a _Sweet-Heart
+    Birthday Book?_ Madame VAN DE VELDE has compiled this. Our
+    sparklingest Baronite exclaims, "Velde done!"
+
+    Thanks to MARCUS WARD & Co. for _The Cottar's Saturday Night_, by
+    ROBBIE BURNS. "Oh, wad some friend the giftie gi'e us!"--as anyone
+    who would like this for a Christmas present may say, adapting the
+    poet to his purpose.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: The Baron and his Christmas Books.]
+
+"A most sweet story! A most charming story!!" gurgled the Baron, as,
+with sobs in his inner voice, talking to himself, he finished the
+penultimate chapter of _Dolly_. "Now, Mrs. BURNETT, if you dare to kill
+your heroine, I swear I'll never forgive you, and never read another of
+your fatally-fascinating books." The Baron trembled as he commenced the
+last chapter of the simplest, most natural, most touching, and most
+exquisitely-told story he has read for many a day. How would it end? A
+few lines sufficed. "Bless you, Mrs. BURNETT!" snivelled the Baron, not
+ashamed of dabbing his eyes with his kerchief. "Bless you, Ma'am! You
+have let 'em live! May your new book go to countless editions! May it be
+another _Little Lord Fauntleroy_, and may you reap a golden reward for
+this, your masterpiece of simple work, your latest story--_Dolly!_" The
+Baron is bound ("bound in morocco" as the slaves were, poor wretches!)
+to add that he wishes it had not been illustrated, for, as good wine
+needs no bush, so a perfect story, such as is this, needs no
+illustration; nay, is rather injured by it than not. There is only one
+small item of common-place in it, and that is making the would-be
+seducer a married man. Of course, to prove him so was the easiest and
+shortest way of saving his vain and feather-headed little victim.
+Perhaps an alternative would have involved complication, and might have
+marred the natural simplicity of the story. So critically the Baron
+states his one very small objection, and reverts with the utmost
+pleasure to the hours he spent over the tale, absorbed in every page, in
+every line of it; and herewith doth he, not only most strongly, but most
+earnestly recommend everyone to procure this book (published by E. WARNE
+& Co.), for it is one that can be and must be given a place of honour by
+the side of DICKENS and THACKERAY, to be read again and again, here a
+bit and there a bit, when other works of fiction now enjoying a greater
+literary reputation (though 'twould be difficult to name them), shall be
+relegated to the lowest shelves of books that have had their day.
+"_Dixi! Scripsi!_" quoth THE LEARNED BARON DE BOOK-WORMS.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+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, Volume
+103, December 24, 1892, by Various
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH ***
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