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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/20538-8.txt b/20538-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8dc9cdf --- /dev/null +++ b/20538-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1533 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 104, +February 4, 1893, by Various + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 104, February 4, 1893 + +Author: Various + +Editor: Francis Burnand + +Release Date: February 6, 2007 [EBook #20538] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH *** + + + + +Produced by Matt Whittaker, Juliet Sutherland and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + +PUNCH, + +OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. + +VOL. 104. + + + + +February 4, 1893. + + + + +[Illustration: WHEN A MAN DOES NOT LOOK HIS BEST. + +_Burglar_ (_taking the ground heavily_). "NAOW, 'OOEVER'D 'A' THOUGHT O' +THE HOWNER O' THAT THERE HINNERCENT LITTLE VILLA BEIN' A PERFESSIONAL +'CHUCKER-HOUT'?!!!"] + + * * * * * + +LAMENT OF THE (WOULD-BE) IRISH EMIGRANT. + +(_Latest Version, with apologies to Lady Dufferin._) + + [Senator CHANDLER, in _The North-American Review_, recommends that + immigration into the United States should be suspended, at least + for a year.] + + Oi'm sittin' on the stile, MARY, an' lookin' o'er the tide, + An' by jabers Oi'm afraid, Aroon, that there Oi'll _have_ to bide! + The grass is springin' fresh an' green in Ould Oireland, but oh moy! + If there's any green in JONATHAN'S land, _it is not in his oi_! + + The States are awful changed, MARY; it is not _now_ as _then_, + When they lifted a free latch-string to all exiled Oirishmen. + Now we miss the whoop ov welcome; they suggest it's loike our cheek, + And Oi'm listenin' for brave LOWELL'S words--which CHANDLER does _not_ + speak! + + It seems to me their Aigle for full Freedom no more pants, + And the Senator, he mutthers ov "degraded immigrants." + Says they can't "assimilate" us; faix, the wurrud sounds monstrous + foine, + But Oi fancy that it's maning is, "We mane to draw the loine!" + + Shure, we're "ignorant and debased," dear; and the poor won't now find + friends + Even in free Columbia! So 'tis thus the ould boast ends! + "Stop 'em--for a year," says CHANDLER; "we'll be holding our Big Show, + An' poverty, an'--well, Cholera, are not wanted _thin_, you know." + + It's an artful move, my MARY, but, it stroikes me, a bit thin, + And it won't come home consolin', to "the poor ov Adam's kin." + Faix! they won't stop 'cabin passengers,' big-wigs, an' British Peerage, + But--_they don't want the poor devils that crowd over in the steerage_! + + So Oi'm sittin' on the stile, MARY, and there Oi'll loikely sthop, + For they don't require poor PADDY in their big new CHANDLER'S Shop. + Uncle SAM'S some punkins, MARY, but he's not a great green goose; + An' he's goin' to sthop a braggin' ov that latch-string always loose! + + * * * * * + +MIXED NOTIONS--NO. IV. EGYPT. + + _Two_ Well-Informed Men, _an_ Inquirer, _and an_ Average Man, _in + suburban morning train to London_. + +_First Well-Informed Man_ (_reading his paper_). Oh, I say, dash it, +this'll never do. Here's this young KHEDIVE of Egypt kicking up a shine, +and dismissing British Ministers. We can't have that, you know. + +_Inquirer._ What Ministers has he dismissed? + +_First W. I. M._ Why, British Ministers,--at least (_reading on_) I mean +Egyptian Ministers; that's to say, chaps whom we appointed. + +_Second W. I. M._ Come, come, we couldn't appoint Egyptian Ministers, +could we? + +_First W. I. M._ Oh, it comes to exactly the same thing; they're +appointed subject to our proviso (_consulting paper_), yes, subject to +our veto, and then this little whipper-snapper goes and gives them the +chuck. He'll jolly soon have to climb down off that. + +_Average Man._ Gently! The young chap's King, after all, isn't he? I +thought Kings might appoint or dismiss Ministers as they liked. + +_First W. I. M._ Oh, rot! The QUEEN can't appoint her own Ministers. We +all know that. They're appointed by the Prime Minister. Any fool knows +that. + +_Inquirer._ But who appoints the Prime Minister? + +_First W. I. M._ He appoints himself, and tells the QUEEN he's done it. +They all go and kiss hands and get their seals, or something of that +sort. + +_Inquirer._ Of course, of course. I forgot that. But how about these +Egyptian beggars? + +_First W. I. M._ The KHEDIVE'S had the cheek to dismiss the Ministry, and +shove another lot in. I see Lord CROMER has been to the Palace to +protest. + +_Inquirer._ Lord CROMER! Who's he? + +_First W. I. M._ My dear fellow, fancy not knowing that! Lord CROMER'S +our Ambassador at Cairo. + +_Second W. I. M._ Oh, nonsense. There are no ambassadors at Cairo. + +_First W. I. M._ Aren't there? Oh, indeed. Well, then perhaps you'll tell +me what Lord CROMER is? + +_Second W. I. M._ He's our Minister. That's what they call them. + +_Inquirer._ Was it him the KHEDIVE dismissed, then? + +_Second W. I. M._ (_laughing heartily_). No, no; we haven't got to that +yet. He dismissed his own Johnnies, of course; Egyptians. Lord CROMER'S +the English Minister. + +_Average Man._ No, he isn't. He's the English Agent. + +_Second W. I. M._ Oh, well, it's the same thing. + +_First W. I. M._ (_taking his revenge_). No, it isn't at all the same +thing; it's a very different thing. A Minister's only just short of an +Ambassador, and an Agent (_pauses_)--well, he's something quite +different. I don't think he gets as much pay for one thing, and of course +he can't live in the Embassy. + +_Inquirer._ But who does live in the Embassy, then? + +_First W. I. M._ It's unoccupied, of course. + +_Average Man._ No, it isn't. There isn't any Embassy at all. [_A pause._ + +_Inquirer_ (_returning to the charge_). But look here, who _is_ Lord +CROMER? I never heard of him before. I thought we'd got BARING or +ROTHSCHILD, or somebody representing us in Egypt. + +_First W. I. M._ (_with smiling superiority_). My dear chap, you're +thinking of Sir EVELYN BARING. He left Egypt long ago. + +_Inquirer._ Why did he leave? + +_First W. I. M._ Old GLADSTONE gave him the sack. + +_Second W. I. M._ No, he didn't. GLADSTONE wasn't in power when BARING +left Egypt. It was SALISBURY who dismissed him. + +_First W. I. M._ I bet you a sov. it was GLADSTONE. + +_Second W. I. M._ And I bet you a sov. it was SALISBURY. + +_Average Man._ You'll both lose. It was neither. + +_First W. I. M._, _Second W. I. M._ (_together_). Bosh! That's +impossible. + +_Average Man._ It's a fact. + +_First W. I. M._ (_triumphant_). Well, how do you account for his not +being there now? + +_Average Man._ He is there. + +_First W. I. M._ He isn't. Lord CROMER'S there. Here it is. (_Producing +Times._) "Lord CROMER has protested in person." So come! + +_Average Man._ All right. I know all that. Only, unfortunately, they're +one and the same person. + +_First W. I. M._, _Second W. I. M._ (_together_). Oh, I daresay; and you +think we're going to swallow that. You tell that to your Grandmother! +[_Both remain absolutely unconvinced._ + +_Inquirer._ But what's this about the French? What have they got to do +with it? + +_Second W. I. M._ Oh, they've got their fingers in every pie; always +making mischief. + +_First W. I. M._ Quite true; but they'll find we're going to sit tight in +spite of them, so the sooner they cart themselves and their blessed old +Pyramids out of the country the better. + +_Inquirer._ Why should they take the Pyramids? + +_First W. I. M._ Well, they built 'em, so I suppose they've got a right +to do what they like with them. + +_Inquirer._ Of course. [_Terminus._ + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: "H.M.S. 'TOKO.'" + +_Nurse Britannia._ "ALLOW ME TO INFORM YOUR HIGHNESS HERE COMES A BOX OF +SOLDIERS YOU _MUSTN'T_ PLAY WITH."] + + * * * * * + +_The Red Spider_, by BARING GOULD, is to be dramatised. What a chance +this would have been for the "Brothers WEBB," were they still in +stage-land. + + * * * * * + +SOLE SURVIVORS.--The uppers of a Tramp's highlows. + + * * * * * + +SHARP FIGHTING AT RANGOON.--We hope soon to hear that the Kachins are +Kachin' it hot. + + * * * * * + +ADVICE TO THOSE "UP A GUM TREE" (_by "Non Possum_").--Come down as +quickly as you can, and don't stick there. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: A LESSON IN FRENCH. + +_Fräulein Schnips_ (_who does not devote as much attention to the Toilet +as she does to Study, addresses Master Edward who has been made to join +in his Sister's lessons during his holidays_). "EDFARD, FOT IS 'I VASH MY +HANDS' IN FRENCH?" + +_Master Edward_ (_sulkily_). "JE ME LAVE LES MAINS." + +_F. S._ "NOW DEN. 'I DO NOT VASH MY HANDS.' GU'EST-CE GUE C'EST GUE ÇA?" + +_Master Edward_ (_seizing his opportunity_). "EH BIEN, C'EST UNE HABITUDE +SALE, DONT VOUS DEVRIEZ AVOIR HONTE!"] + + * * * * * + +"SOME DAY!" + +(_Latest Egyptian Version of Milton Welling's popular Song._) + +Mr. BULL _to_ Miss EGYPT, _sings_:-- + + I know not when the day shall be, + I know not when we two shall part; + What farewell you will give to me, + Or will your words be sweet or tart? + It may not be till years have passed, + Till France grows calm, young ABBAS grey; + But I am pledged--so, love, at last, + Our hands, our hearts must part--_some day_! + Some day, some day, + Some day I shall leave you! + Love, I know not when or how, + (So I can but vaguely vow) + Only this, only this, + (Which I trust won't grieve you), + Only this--I _can't_ go now, I can't _go_ now, I can't go _Now_! + + I know not if 'tis far or near, + Some six months' hence, while we both live; + I know not who the blame shall bear, + Or who protest, or who forgive; + But when we part, some day, some day, + France, fairer grown, the truth may see, + And all those clouds be rolled away + That darken love 'twixt her and me. + Some day, some day, + Some day I must leave you! + Lawks! I know not when or how, + (Though the Powers kick up a row), + Only this, only this, + (Which I won't deceive you), + Only this--I can't go _now_, I shan't go _now_, I won't go _Now_! + + * * * * * + +IS SCIENCE PLAYED OUT? + + ["In a grain of butter you have 47,250,000 microbes. When you eat + a slice of bread-and-butter, you therefore must swallow as many + microbes as there are people in Europe."--"Science Notes" in + _Daily Chronicle_.] + + Charlotte, eating bread-and-butter, + Read this Note with horror utter, + And (assisted by the cutter) + Went on eating bread-and-butter! + Man will say--with due apology + To alarmed Bacteriology-- + Spite of menacing bacilli, + Man _must_ eat, friend, willy-nilly! + And where _shall_ he find due foison + If e'en bread-and-butter's poison? + Science told our amorous Misses + Death may be conveyed _in kisses_; + But it did not keep the nation + From promiscuous osculation. + Now it warneth the "Young Person" + (Whom GRANT ALLEN voids his curse on) + "Bread-and-butter Misses" even + In _their_ food may find death's leaven! + Never mind how this is made out! + Science--as a Bogey's--played out. + Spite all warnings it may utter, + Women _will_ have Bread-and-Butter! + + * * * * * + +OUT OF WORK. + + (_After reading "Outcast London" by the Daily Chronicle's Special + Commissioner at the East End._) + + Divines inform us that the Primal Curse + On poor humanity was Compulsory Work; + But Civilisation has devised a worse, + Which even Christian effort seems to shirk. + The Worker's woes love may assuage. Ah, yes! + But what shall help Compulsory Worklessness? + Not Faith--Hope--Charity even! All the Graces + Are helpless, without Wisdom in high places. + Though liberal alms relieve the kindly soul, + You can't cure destitution by a dole. + No, these are days when men must dare to try + What a Duke calls--ARGYLL the high-and-dry-- + "The Unseen Foundations of Society"; + And not, like wealthy big-wigs, be content + With smart attacks on "Theories of Rent." + Most theories of rent we know, the fact is + What we have doubts about, Duke, is--the practice! + When Rent in Power's hands becomes a rack + To torture Toil, bold wisdom will hark back + To the beginnings and the bases; ask + _What_ hides beneath that Economic mask + Which smiles unmoved by Sorrow's strain and stress + On half-starved Work and whole-starved Worklessness! + + * * * * * + +THE MAN FROM BLANKLEY'S. + +A STORY IN SCENES. + + SCENE IV.--Mrs. TIDMARSH'S _Drawing-room_; MR. TIDMARSH _has just + shaken hands with the latest arrival, and is still in the utmost + perplexity as to the best manner to adopt towards him. The other + Guests are conversing, with increased animation, at the further + end of the room._ + +_Lord Strathsporran_ (_to_ Mr. TIDMARSH). Afraid I'm most abominably +late--had some difficulty in getting here--such a fog, don't you know! +It's really uncommonly good of you to let me come and see your +antiquities like this. If I am not mistaken, you have got together a +collection of sepulchral objects worth coming any distance to study. [_He +glances round the room, in evident astonishment._ + +_Mr. Tid._ (_to himself_). Nice names to give my dinner-party! Impudent +young dog, this--Lord or no Lord! (_Aloud, with dignity._) +I--ha--hum--don't think that's quite the way to speak of them, Sir--my +Lord, I suppose I _ought_ to say! + +_Lord Strath._ Oh, I expect a most interesting evening, I assure you. + +_Mr. Tid._ Well, I--I daresay you'll have no cause to complain, so far as +_that_ goes, Lord--er--STRATH--you'll excuse me, but I haven't _quite_ +got accustomed to that title of yours. + +_Lord Strath._ (_smiling_). Not surprised at that--feel much the same +myself. + +_Mr. Tid._ Ha--well, to tell you the honest truth, I should have been +just as pleased if you had come here _without_ any handle of that sort to +your name. + +_Lord Strath._ Quite unnecessary to tell me so--and, you see, I couldn't +very well help myself. + +_Mr. Tid._ (_to himself_). BLANKLEY sends 'em _all_ out with titles--then +his _is_ bogus! (_Aloud._) Oh, I don't blame _you_, if it's the rule; +only--(_irritably_)--well, it makes me feel so devilish _awkward_, you +know! + +_Lord Strath._ Extremely sorry--don't know why it should. (_To himself._) +Queer little chap my host. Don't _look_ the Egyptologist exactly. And +where does he keep all his things? Downstairs, I suppose. (_He turns, and +recognises_ Miss SEATON.) MARJORY SEATON--here! and I've been trying to +hear something of her ever since I came back from Gîzeh--this _is_ luck! +(_To her._) How do you do, Miss SEATON? No idea we should meet like this! + +_Miss Seaton_ (_in a low constrained voice_). Nor I, Mr. CLAYMORE. [Mr. +TIDMARSH _catches his Wife's eye, and crosses to her._ + +_Mrs. Tid._ (_sotto voce_). MONTAGUE, isn't it time you introduced me to +this Lord Whatever-it-is? As the person of highest rank here, he +certainly ought to take _me_ in! + +[Illustration: "I look upon him simply as a human being."] + +_Mr. Tid._ He's _done_ it, MARIA. He's no more a Lord than I am. Miss +SEATON knows him--I just heard her call him "Mr. CLAYTON," or some name +like that! + +_Mrs. Tid._ (_aghast._) So _this_ is the sort of person you _would_ go and +engage! He'll be found out, MONTAGUE, I can see Uncle edging up towards +him already. And anyhow, you know what his opinions are. A pretty scrape +you've got us into! Don't stand gaping--bring the man up to me this +minute--I must give him a hint to be careful. (_Lord S. is led up and +presented._) Sit down here, please, in this corner, Lord--(_with a +vicious emphasis_)--STRATH-_BLANKLEY_. (Lord. S. _obeys in mild +amazement._) Really, my husband and I were _hardly_ prepared for so +_aristocratic_ a guest--we are such plain humdrum people that a title--a +_real_ title like your _lordship's_--ahoo!--(_with an acid titter_)--is, +well--_rather_ overwhelming. I only hope you will be able to--er--sustain +it, or otherwise---- + +_Lord Strath._ (_lifting his eyebrows._) Am I to understand that you did +not expect me, after all? Because, if so,--I---- + +_Mrs. Tid._ Oh, yes, we _expected_ you, and of course, you will be +treated exactly the same as everybody else--except--I don't know if my +husband warned you about not touching the champagne? No? Oh, well, you +will drink _claret_ please, _not_ champagne. I daresay you prefer it. + +_Lord Strath._ Thank you, I should indeed--if you have any misgivings +about your champagne. + +_Mrs. Tid._ We must draw _some_ distinction between you and our regular +guests, as I'm sure you'll understand. + +_Lord Strath._ (_to himself._) Poor devils--if they only knew! But what +an unspeakable snob this woman is! I'd give something to get out of this +house--if it wasn't for MARJORY. I must have a word with her before +dinner--strikes me she's put out with me about something or other. + +_Mrs. Gilwattle_ (_to her Husband_). Did you ever see anything like the +way MARIA'S talking to that young nobleman, GABRIEL? as easy and composed +as if she'd kept such company all her life--it's a wonder how she can +_do_ it! + +_Uncle Gab._ Look at the finishing she's had! And after all, he's flesh +and blood like ourselves. She might introduce you and me to him, +though--it looks as if she was ashamed of her own relations. I shall go +up and introduce myself in a minute, and do what I can to make the young +fellow feel himself at home. (_Intercepting_ Lord S. _in the act of +moving towards_ Miss SEATON.) Excuse me, my Lord, but, as the uncle of +our worthy host and hostess, I should like the honour of shaking you by +the hand. (_He shakes hands._) My name's GILWATTLE, my Lord, and I ought +to tell you before I go any further that I've no superstitious reverence +for rank. Whether a man's a lord or a linen-draper, is exactly the same +to me--I look upon him dimply as a human being. + +_Lord Strath._ Quite so? he--ah--generally _is_, isn't he? + +_Uncle Gab._ Very handsome of your Lordship to admit it, I'm sure--but +what I _mean_ to say is, I regard any friend of my niece and nephew's as +a friend of mine--be he a Duke or be he a Dustman. + +_Lord Strath._ Unhappily for me, I'm neither a Duke nor a Dustman, +and--er--will you kindly excuse me? (_To himself as he passes on._) That +old gentleman makes me quite ill. Ah, MARJORY at last! (_To_ Miss +SEATON.) You've scarcely spoken a word to me yet! I hoped somehow you'd +look a little pleased to see me--after all this time! + +_Miss Seaton._ Pleased? I can hardly be that under the circumstances, Mr. +CLAYMORE! + +_Lord Strath._ Well, I only thought--we used to be such friends once. You +seem so changed! + +_Miss Seaton._ I am not the only one who is changed, I think. You seem to +have changed everything--even your name. What ought I to call you, by the +way, I didn't catch it exactly. "Lord SOMEBODY," wasn't it? + +_Lord Strath._ Never mind the confounded name, I have heard quite enough +of it already! It's not my fault if I'm what I am. _I_ never wanted to be +STRATHSPORRAN! + +_Miss Seaton._ Then you really are Lord STRATHSPORRAN! Oh, DOUGLAS, how +_could_ you? + +_Lord Strath._ I didn't. It was all that accident to my poor uncle and +cousin. And I'm about the poorest Peer in Scotland; if _that's_ any +excuse for me! + +_Miss Seaton._ How can it be any excuse for your coming here? Have you no +pride, DOUGLAS! + +_Lord Strath._ My goodness, what is there to be proud about? Why +_shouldn't_ I dine with anybody, provided----? + +_Miss Seaton._ Please don't excuse yourself--I can't bear it. You _know_ +it is unworthy of you to be here! + +_Lord Strath._ I don't indeed. I came here simply as a---- + +_Miss Seaton._ Don't trouble to tell me--I know _everything_. And--and +you ought to have _died_ rather than descend to this! + +_Lord Strath._ Ought I? Died, eh? That never occurred to me; and, after +all, MARJORY, _you_'re here! What's wrong? What have I let myself in for? + +_Miss Seaton_ (_bitterly_). What have you let yourself _out_ for, you +mean, don't you? + +_Lord Strath._ (_mystified_). _I_ don't know! I believe my man let me +out; and, anyway, what _does_ it matter now I've come? There's dinner +announced. MARJORY, before we're separated, just tell me what on earth +I've done to deserve this sort of thing! + +_Miss Seaton_ (_with a little gesture of despair_). Is it possible you +want to be told how _horribly_ you have disappointed me! + + [_The couples are forming to go down._ + +_Lord Strath._ (_stiffly_). I can only say the disappointment is mutual! + + [_He moves away, and awaits his hostess's directions._ + +_Little Gwennie_ (_stealing up to her Governess_). Oh, Miss SEATON, +_haven't_ I been good? I've kept quite quiet in a corner, and I haven't +said a single word to anybody ever since he came. But _what_ nice +Gentlemen BLANKLEY does send, doesn't he? + +_Mrs. Tid._ (_on_ Uncle GABRIEL'S _arm_). Oh, I quite forgot _you_, +Lord--ah--STRATHPORRIDGE. As you and Miss SEATON seem to be already +acquainted, perhaps you will have the goodness to take her down? You will +sit on my left--on the fireplace side--and--(_in a whisper_)--the less +you say the better! + +_Lord Strath._ I am _quite_ of your opinion. (_To himself._) Can't make +my hostess out, for the life of me--or MARJORY either, if it comes to +that! This is going to be a lively dinner-party, I can see! + + [_He gives his arm to_ Miss SEATON, _who accepts it without looking + at him; they go downstairs in constrained silence._ + +(_End of Scene IV._) + + * * * * * + +QUEER QUERIES.--CITY IMPROVEMENTS.--How much longer are we to wait for +the widening of the whole of Cheapside, the removal of the Post-Office +Buildings to a more convenient site, and the total and unconditional +sweeping away of Paternoster Row and the south side of Newgate Street? +These slight alterations are _imperatively required_. They will only cost +about ten millions, and what are ten millions to the Corporation? As I +purchased the five square yards on which my little tobacco-shop is built +in confident expectation of being bought out at a high figure, I consider +that any further delay in the matter involves something like a breach of +public faith. Why should not the Government help? They have lots of +money, and I haven't.--DISINTERESTED. + + * * * * * + +"FACTS AND FIGURES."--The business of the Labour Commissioner has to be +very delicately managed. There must be a good deal of "give and take" in +the work. However much "taking" there may be, there is sure to be plenty +of _Giffen_. + + * * * * * + +OUR BOOKING-OFFICE. + +[Illustration] + +There is something fascinating about the title of Mr. MCCULLAGH TORRENS' +book, published in one handsome volume, by BENTLEY. There should be a +good deal in _Twenty Years in Parliament_, more so when the epoch covers +recollections of PALMERSTON in his green old age, Mr. GLADSTONE in his +prime, BRIGHT in his political prize-fighting trim, COBDEN, TOM DUNCAN, +MONCKTON MILNES, JOHN STUART MILL, ISAAC BUTT, and a host of other ghosts +that have flitted off the scene. My Baronite turned to the book with +gusto, read it through with patience, and left it with disappointment. +Mr. TORRENS knew all these men personally; in fact, he was indispensable +to them. One marvels to find, from hints dropped and assertions boldly +made, how much they were severally indebted to him for counsel and +inspiration through the twenty years the narrative vaguely covers. The +figures of the men named loom large in history; but they were all +stuffed. The wires were pulled by plain unappreciated MCCULLAGH TORRENS. +The weight of the responsibility has had the effect of somewhat muddling +the narrative, and, from time to time, the diligent reader does not know +exactly where he is. He begins with some episode in which DIZZY, with arm +affectionately linked with that of MCCULLAGH TORRENS, is walking along +Pall Mall, when a passing Bishop obsequiously takes off his hat and bows. +MCCULLAGH modestly says this obeisance was paid to DIZZY, but _we_ know +very well it was to MCCULLAGH. Then, before we know where we are, we are +in the middle of an account of the Bulgarian atrocities, the +Russo-Turkish war, what Count BEUST said to MCCULLAGH, and how, in debate +on the Vote of Six Millions, "a Right Hon. friend who sat next to me +urged me to add a few words to what had been better said by others in +this sense." Better said! Oh, MCCULLAGH! Oh, TORRENS! There is an ancient +story of an old gentleman who had a treasured anecdote connected with the +going off of a gun. When he could not drag it in otherwise, he was wont +to furtively lift his foot and kick the table. "Hallo, what's that?" he +cried. "Sounds like a gun; that reminds me"--and then the story. Thus Mr. +TORRENS drags in successive Parliamentary episodes through twenty +years--the Disestablishment of the Church, the Charity Commission, State +Aid to Emigrants, School Board for London, Extradition, Artisans' +Dwellings; gives a not very clear summary of events leading up to each, +and then treats the entranced reader to the heads of the speech he +delivered. The book would have been more accurately entitled had it been +called _Twenty Years of McCullagh Torrens_, and old Members of the House +of Commons will agree that this is a little too much. + +BARON DE BOOK-WORMS & CO. + + * * * * * + +The Three. + + Some hold it a terrible fault of omission + That Parsons sit not on the Poor-Law Commission. + Alas! Hope would smile, but she finds it a rarity + For "Faith" not to hamper the freedom of Charity. + The world will look bright when we find in high places + A perfect accord 'twixt the Three Christian Graces! + + * * * * * + +THE FIRST BAL MASQUÉ OF THE SEASON.--Big success. Greater crowd there +than when these entertainments came to an end at the beginning of last +year. All sorts of disguises were permitted, but it is said that two +_viveurs_ who came late, disguised in liquor, were denied entrance. The +Snow Man found it very hot, and melted. Prizes were to be given away. But +there was one prize, an elegant lady, closely masked and hooded, whose +identity remained a puzzle to everybody. At last "she gave herself away." +The happy recipient congratulated himself on winning the prize. + + * * * * * + +NEXT, PLEASE!--Suggested subject for the next Newspaper Controversy:--"Is +ROBERT BUCHANAN played out?" + + * * * * * + +"RENT REDUCTIONS" can generally be satisfactorily made _pro tem._ with a +needle and thread. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: "THE PLAY'S THE THING!" + +"COULD I HAVE A FORTNIGHT'S LEAVE, SIR?" "WHAT FOR, PRAY?" "URGENT +PRIVATE THEATRICALS!"] + + * * * * * + +THE FISHERMAN AND THE GENIUS. + +(_Fragmentary and Unfinished Extracts from the Arabian Nights, Up to +Date._) + +"Sir," said SHEEVERREADY, "how pleasant soever these stories may be that +I have told your Majesty hitherto, they do not come near that of the +Fisherman and the Genius." + + * * * + +There was an ancient, but hale and opulent Fisherman, who had fished with +much success for many a day in troubled waters. This practice of his +involved him, of course, in extremely arduous labours, but resulted, +generally, in securing him a fair share of hard-earned spoil, to the +great envy of other fishermen of less hardihood and enterprise. He +imposed it upon himself, however, as a law, not to cast his nets save +during a certain season--or session, as he called it--which usually +arrived but once a year. + +His fortune, for some fishing seasons past, had been of a variable, and +not too satisfactory sort. It is _not_ encouraging, after casting one's +nets during a prolonged spell of rough weather, and confidently +anticipating a good draught of fish, to perceive that, instead of fish, +there is nothing in one's net save such unsought spoil as the carcase of +an Egyptian ass, a basket-full of gravel and slime of no substantial +utility, or quantities of stones and mud, fit for nothing but for use as +missiles among quarrelsome boys. + +"O Fortune," cried he; "be not so persistently perverse, nor persecute an +ancient fisherman who groweth a-weary of tumultuous billows, turbid +floods, broken and filth-obstructed nets, and unprofitable hauls!" + + * * * + +Now, behold, it was told to this Fisherman by a certain Grand Old Voice, +vague but sonorous, and voluble exceedingly, that if he would only make a +complete change in his nets, and in the fashion of his fishing, +miraculous draughts would become as common as minnows in a brook. This +Voice visited our Fisherman often in his visions. And, behold, the +Fisherman essayed the schemes suggested by the Voice. Not at first, it +must be admitted, with supreme success, or entire satisfaction to the +Fisherman himself. The Voice, however, attributed this qualified fortune +to the Fisherman's lack of perfect trust, and of entire reform in his +fashion of fishing. "Behold," cried the Voice, vibrating vehemently, "you +have allowed yourself to be diverted by the sinister councils of +antiquated obscurantists from implicit faith in my programmes and +prescriptions!" + +"And what, in brief and plain language, _are_ these latter?" inquired the +anxious but puzzled Fisherman. + +"Nay," answered the Voice, sardonically; "that were to inquire too +nicely. But place your fortunes absolutely in my charge; follow my lead +with unquestioning loyalty, and verily you shall see great results." + + * * * + +The Fisherman, much impressed with these assurances, cast his nets once +more in the new fashion; and when he thought it was time, he drew them in +as formerly, with great difficulty. But, instead of fish, found nothing +in them but a vessel of brass, which, by the weight, seemed to be full of +something; and he observed that it was shut up with singular tightness, +and sealed up with a thick coating of official-looking wax. And the Seal +was Green, green as the abounding grass, or the scarce four-leaved +shamrock of that amazing Isle of Emeralds, which some deem as much matter +of myth as SINDBAD'S Valley of Diamonds. + + * * * + +The Fisherman examined the vessel on all sides, and shook it to see if +what was in it made any noise, but heard nothing. This circumstance, with +the impression of the seal upon the cover (which seemed to represent two +Hearts linked in Union by some mystic abracadabra of unknown words) made +him think there was something precious--or at least peculiar--in it. To +try this, he opened it. He presently turned the mouth downward, but +nothing came out, which surprised him extremely. He set it before him, +and while he looked upon it attentively, there arose from it a very thick +smoke, which obliged him to retire two or three paces from it. + +The smoke ascended to the clouds, and, extending itself along the sea and +upon the shore, formed a great mist, which we may well imagine did +mightily astonish the Fisherman. When the smoke was all out of the +vessel, it slowly took shape, and became a solid-seeming body, of which +there was formed a Genius twice as high and broad as any giant with which +the Fisherman had been aforetime familiar. At the sight of a monster of +such unsizeable bulk, and from which issued, in as yet unintelligible +accents, a Voice which seemed strangely familiar to his ears, the +Fisherman----Here SHEEVERREADY perceiving day, broke off her story--for +the time. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: THE FISHERMAN AND THE GENIUS. + +(_Vide "Arabian Nights."_)] + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: VERY CONSIDERATE. + +_Mr. Phunkie._ "DEAW ME!--NEW RAILS, I DECLARE! NOW IF THERE IS A THING +WHICH IS ANNOYING TO THE AGRICULTURIST, IN THE PRESENT STATE OF +DEPRESSION, IT IS FOR PEOPLE TO GO RECKLESSLY SMASHING THINGS OF THAT +SORT. I SHALL CERTAINLY PUT MYSELF TO THE INCONVENIENCE OF GOING +_ROUND_--AHEM!--AS AN EXAMPLE!"] + + * * * * * + +"THE TICKET-OF-LEAVE MAN" AT CAMBRIDGE. + +[Illustration] + +Well done, the A. D. C.! Their performance of TOM TAYLOR'S romantic, +pathetic, melodramatic, crib-cracking, head- (though not always side-) +splitting play, was an admirable one, carefully rehearsed, well +stage-managed, and played with a fine feeling for the capital situations +in which the piece abounds. Especially good was Mr. BROMLEY-DAVENPORT'S +_Jem Dalton_, a finished and truculent presentment of which any young +amateur and many an old professional might be proud. _Hawkshaw_ (Mr. +DICKINSON), too, was excellent, and the _Bob Brierly_ of Mr. THORNTON, +the _Sam Willoughby_ of Mr. THEOBALD, the _Green Jones_ of Mr. NORMAN, +and the _Maltby_ of Mr. MARTINEAU, were all good in their several ways. +As for the ladies--but who does not know the A. D. C. ladies, those +visions of female loveliness, with big hands bass voices, and projecting +knees? Mr. AGAR, whose waist cannot have really measured more than twenty +inches round, was refined and charming as _Emily St. Evremond_, while Mr. +CORNISH, though taller than most of his male associates, played _May +Edwards_ quietly, and sympathetically. _Mrs. Willoughby_, the stage +realisation of ARTHUR SKETCHLEY'S _Mrs. Brown_, had full justice rendered +to her garrulous good-nature by Mr. STONE. But enough. It was a good +performance. Memories came floating back of a notable performance of this +same play by the A. D. C. far back in the remote ages between '70 and +'80. The _Bob Brierly_ of those days has been Under-Secretary of State +for India, _Hawkshaw_, the Detective, occupies a thorny throne as +Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland, while _Jem Dalton_ has become the Burglar at +the Court Theatre--a very natural transition. Very great was Mr. +BROOKFIELD fifteen years ago as the Cracksman, but great, also, was Mr. +BROMLEY-DAVENPORT last week. _Dixi!_ + + * * * * * + +DEARTH OF DANCING-MEN. + +My JULIA has been unusually fortunate this evening. She has only had to +sit out thirteen dances, and has already been given half a polka by Mr. +LAYSIBOHNS, who, however, seemed too tired to finish it. Her view is, +that "half a loafer is better than no dance." + +[Illustration] + +In order to get men, we have been obliged to invite the gentlemanly +crossing-sweeper at the end of our road, two hawkers who sell blocks of +wood in the street, a respectable coal-heaver, and our green-grocer's +assistant. They have each had half-a-dozen dancing lessons (at our +expense), and are to be paid a guinea a-piece, on condition that they +dance at least six dances before going down to supper. + +Our boy BOB, who is always trying to be funny, says he is afraid engaging +these people will turn put a "valse step." + +It certainly is rather slow for the Girls who have not had a partner all +the evening. Still, I did _not_ expect them to bring pencils and paper +with them, and play games of "consequences" in the billiard-room. + +Since Gentlemen have taken to sharing a dance among several Ladies, they +have become very conceited. My EMILY is congratulating herself that she +has secured one undivided sixteenth part of the next Lancers with that +dear Mr. WYNN INGWAYS. + +A good part of Mr. MASHER'S income is, it is said, derived from the fact +that Mothers, sooner than see their Girls sit idle all the evening, are +willing to allow him a handsome commission on suitable introductions. + +BOB has asked JULIA a riddle, which is--"What is the difference between a +game of whist and a ball-room?" The answer seems to be, that in whist you +cut for partners, but, in a ball-room, possible partners cut you. + +It is quite true that we have decided to emigrate to North-West Colorado, +as my Girls say they will have far more chance of partners in a country +where the "surplus population" consists entirely of males. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: TROP DE ZÈLE. + +_Hostess._ "WHY ARE SOME OF THE LIQUEUR GLASSES _EMPTY_, KATHLEEN?" + +_The New Parlour Maid._ "IF YOU PLEASE, MY LADY, THEY'RE FOR THIM AS +DON'T TAKE ANY LIQUEUR!"] + + * * * * * + +MARGARINA. + +A BACK-STREET BALLAD. + +AIR--"_Margarita._" + + I passed along a dim back-street, Margarina! + In search of something good to eat, Margarina! + O pallid tripe! O "faggots" queer! + Was ever such strange human cheer? + And O my heart, I loathed thee so, + There on show, there on show, Margarina! + + I saw thee in a sallow dab, Margarina! + Upon the grubby marble slab, Margarina! + O sickening stodge! O greasy shine! + O "Dairy Produce" miscalled "Fine"! + O haunt of all blue-flies that blow, + There on show, there on show, Margarina! + + I fled along that gloomy street, Margarina! + Disgusted, sickened, sad, dead-beat, Margarina! + Yet still I see that dingy slab, + That oleaginous pale, pale dab. + And thou art still on sale I know, + Where soot-flakes all, and blue-flies blow, Margarina! + + But every night at my snug tea, Margarina! + Over my toast I muse on thee, Margarina! + I sniff that smell, I see that dab, + That greasy, grimy, marble slab. + And thou art still the same I know, + The slum's strange love, the slum's strange love. + The poor man's "Butter," there on show! Margarina! + + * * * * * + +MRS. RAM, who had been listening to a conversation among golf-players, +and now flatters herself on knowing something about the game, +observed--"I suppose, in the Season, instead of Five-o'clock Teas, the +fashion at Hurlingham and those places will be to have Golf Teas." She +didn't know that it was spelt 'Tees.' + + * * * * * + +ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT. + +EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M. P. + +_House of Commons, Tuesday, Jan. 31st._--Back again in old place, with +SPEAKER in Chair, Mace on table, and Serjeant-at-Arms on guard. Nothing +changed except the Government. Some old familiar faces gone; others +replace them. Same old bustle, hearty greeting, and effusive +hand-shaking. + +"There's only one thing," says ERSKINE, of Cardross, "that equals the +hilarity of the opening of a New Session, and that is the joy with which +the boys go off on the day of Prorogation." + +ERSKINE been in the Chair by the cross-benches some years now. Naturally +growing philosophical; insensibly cultivates habit of sententious speech. + +"Wonder you can be so garrulous, TOBY," he says, "considering the number +of Speeches you hear in a Session. We take in eloquence at the pores, and +I for one have no tendency toward exudation." + +"Ah," I said, "perhaps that's the lack of exercise. Dear old GOSSET! he +was better off in that respect. Remember how he used to waltz up and down +between doorway and table with BRADLAUGH? A heavy partner, too, +especially taken after dinner. But, on score of health, not by any means +an undesirable variation on sedentary life." + +"Well, well," said ERSKINE, whose forbears were out in '45, "we must hope +for the best." And the gallant Scot's hand involuntarily sought the hilt +of his sword as his keen eye roved over the Clan gathered below the +Gangway. + +A little odd at first to see Mr. G. on the Bench to the right of SPEAKER, +Prince ARTHUR facing him on Opposition Bench. They seem to assume altered +position quite naturally. Mr. G. looks pretty much as he has done any +time these two years back. Eager, straight-backed, bright-eyed, smiling +gaily in response to cheer that greets him from at present undivided +majority. + +"Pretty well, thank you, TOBY. Only one thing the matter with me, and +that, you know, doesn't mend as the years pass. Looking over MCCULLAGH +TORRENS' book the other day, I noted what DIZZY said when that genial +statesman, the former Member for Finsbury, inquired after the health of +Lady BEACONSFIELD. 'They tell me she is better, but you know what better +is at 83.' I'm as well as can be expected going o' 84. I must admit it's +pretty well. I'll undertake to walk a mile, run a mile, eat a meal, and +make a speech with any fellow ten years my junior." + +Certainly no one on Treasury Bench exceeds Mr. G. in vivacity or +overflowing energy. SQUIRE OF MALWOOD looks very fit, but there's a +massivity about his mirthful mood that becomes a Chancellor of the +Exchequer with a contingent surplus. Is much comforted by consciousness +that, whilst SAGE OF QUEEN ANNE'S GATE views composition of Ministry with +mixed feelings, and will not commit himself to promise of fealty till he +is in possession of full details of their policy, he unreservedly +approves the SQUIRE. + +On other side, Her Majesty's late Ministers in state of almost boisterous +hilarity. Evidently inclined to regard deposition as a joke. Prince +ARTHUR beaming with delight. Something curiously like a smile wreathes +stolid countenance of Sir JAMES FERGUSSON. + +"It's their turn now," says Prince ARTHUR, gleefully rubbing his hands, +"and I wish them joy of it. As for me, I shall live my Saturday to Monday +in peace, and shall go to the Opera every Wednesday night in the Season." + +"You can go oftener if you like," said ELLIS ASHMEAD-BARTLETT (Knight). +"You may depend on my remaining here. I've thought of a good many things +to say during the last six years." + +"Ha," said Prince ARTHUR, thoughtfully, "then perhaps I may absent myself +through portions of other nights of the week." + +_Business done._--Address moved. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: PARLIAMENTARY SHOOTING BEGINS, JANUARY 31.] + + * * * * * + +HIS LITTLE GAME AT THE COMEDY. + +[Illustration: Opening the Case.] + +[Illustration: Briscoe, having lost one suit, gains another.] + +Mr. Lestocq's amusing farce, _The Sportsman_, now being played at the +Comedy Theatre, must inevitably recall to the experienced play-goer the +plot and situations of _The Serious Family_ and _The Colonel_, _Truth_, +_The Candidate_, _Artful Cards_, and it may be some others of the same +extensive dramatic family. In this piece the husband, under pretence of +joining a shooting-party, is accustomed to absent himself from home, in +order to indulge his propensity for gambling, and he invariably brings +home to his wife the hares and rabbits he has shot. This is "his little +game." Just so did the husband in _The Serious Family_, when _Aminadab +Sleek_ remarks that he has seen something very like them at a +neighbouring poulterer's. In the Second Act the police make a raid on the +gambling Club, and the husband escapes in any coat he can lay hold of, +following the example of the unfortunate hero of _Artful Cards_, only +that the situation at the end of _that_ Second Act was far stronger in +that play than it is in _The Sportsman_. In _Artful Cards_ the +unfortunate hero escaped, carrying a trombone, which turned up in +evidence against him when he was inventing plausible explanations to his +wife. In fact, _The Sportsman_ is concocted out of excellent old material +cleverly worked up, with only one new point in it, to which, as it has +escaped the eye of the English adapter, it would be useless to draw his +attention; yet, had he seen it, he might therefrom have developed a +really original sequence of perplexing situations. The dialogue is not +particularly brilliant; jerky, not crisp. But such is the "go" of the +principals, and especially of Mr. HAWTREY, who is the life and soul of +the farce, that the laughter is hearty and continuous. + + * * * * * + +PATRIOTISM AT THE LAW COURTS. + +(_As we expect to see it._) + + ["THE INNS OF COURT AND THE VOLUNTEERS.--A Meeting was held + yesterday afternoon in the Banqueting Hall of Lincoln's Inn for + the purpose of taking such steps as might be deemed necessary to + revive the former numerical strength of the Inns of Court Corps of + Volunteers, now sadly below its proper strength."--_Daily Paper._] + +[Illustration] + +Frequent Meetings in the Banqueting Hall will soon rectify the "reduced +condition," and, after a few gatherings, a gallant and learned Q. C. will +don his ancient tunic, and present himself at Head Quarters. + + * * * * * + +"THE ETERNAL FEMININE!" + +(_By a candid--if capricious--Conjugator._) + +_Amo, amas_--All love a lass! + +_Amamus, amatis_--Churls cry, _jam satis_! + +_Amat, amant_--But that's masculine cant! + +_Amem, ames_--We wish to please. + +_Amemus, ametis_--'Cos love so sweet is. + +_Amet, ament_--Man's never content! + +_Amavissem_--We yearn to kiss 'em. + +_Amavisses_--They accept our kisses. + +_Ama, amato_--Lips like a tomato. + +_Amate, amanto_--Move many a canto. + +_Amare, amavisse_--We Marry sweet Missy. + +_Amans, amaturus_--Her charms to secure us. + +_Amandum, amandi_--As wives they come handy. + +_Amando, amandum_--But we don't understand 'em. + +_Amandum, amando_--Their novels are grand, oh! + +_Amatum, amatu_--Cries male critic, "I'll slate you!" + +_Amor, amaris, amatur_--Woman goes like thunder when a starter! + +_Amamur, amamini, amantur_--And she swears she'll lick us in a canter! + +_Amemur, amemini, amentur_--And 'twill take us all our time to prevent +her! + + * * * * * + +THE NEWEST HUMOUR. + + ["The atmospheric envelope of the Globe is at present in a + baccilophil humour."--_Professor_ PETTENKOFER _on Microbes, quoted + by_ JAMES PAYN.] + +[Illustration] + + Is that the humour o 't, O learned Nym? + Well, these be days of mad and morbid whim, + When would-be wits strain wildly at a joke + As an o'erladen ox against the yoke. + But "a baccilophil humour"!--in the air! + Science does love the unlearned soul to scare, + But what does this thing mean? With fear to fill us? + Can aught thus love and cherish the Bacillus? + O "atmospheric envelope" _thy_ humour + Is worse than--Blank's--if we may trust this rumour. + Since microbe "humour" fills both air and earth, + Farewell to honest fun and wholesome mirth! + Adieu to genial DICKENS, gentle HOOD! + Hail to the peddling pessimistic brood + Whose "nimini-pimimi" mouths, too small by half + To stretch themselves to a Homeric laugh, + Mince, in a mirror, to the "Paphian Mimp!" + MOMUS is dead, and e'en that tricksy imp + Preposterous _Puck_ hath too much native grit + To take the taste of OSRICK turned a wit. + Humour baccilophil, microbic merriment, + Might suit him better. He will try the experiment. + His mirth's a smirk and not a paroxysm; + "Papa, potatoes, poultry, prunes and prism" + Do not disturb the "plie" of his prim lips, + Neither do cynic quirks and querulous quips. + Mirth would guffaw--when hearts and mouths were bigger, + OSRICK would shrink from aught beyond a snigger, + Such as is stirred by screeds of far-fetched whim. + Ay! that's the humour o't, sententious Nym. + Let's hail a dying century's latest birth,-- + The Newest Humour--purged from taint of Mirth! + + * * * * * + +MRS. RAM'S practical knowledge of French is not marvellous. She was +discussing the question as to whether the French Working-classes cared +for malt liquor as brewed in England. The excellent Lady observed--"I +don't think so, because, if I remember rightly, when I was in Paris, I +was told always to give the coachman money for drink, and this they +called 'poor beer.' So they couldn't care for 'strong ale,' such as +ours." + + * * * * * + +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 +104, February 4, 1893, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH *** + +***** This file should be named 20538-8.txt or 20538-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/0/5/3/20538/ + +Produced by Matt Whittaker, Juliet Sutherland and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 104, February 4, 1893 + +Author: Various + +Editor: Francis Burnand + +Release Date: February 6, 2007 [EBook #20538] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH *** + + + + +Produced by Matt Whittaker, Juliet Sutherland and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<h1>PUNCH, <br /> +OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.</h1> + +<h2>Vol. 104.</h2> +<hr class="full" /> + +<h2>FEBRUARY 4, 1893.</h2> +<hr class="full" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page49" id="page49"></a>[pg 49]</span> + +<div class="figright" style="width:50%;"><a href="images/049.png"><img width="100%" src="images/049.png" alt="WHEN A MAN DOES NOT LOOK HIS BEST." /></a><h3>WHEN A MAN DOES NOT LOOK HIS BEST.</h3> + +<p><i>Burglar</i> (<i>taking the ground heavily</i>). "<span class="sc">Naow, 'ooever'd 'a' thought +o' the Howner o' that there hinnercent little Villa bein' a +Perfessional 'Chucker-hout'?!!!"</span></p></div> + +<h2>LAMENT OF THE (WOULD-BE) IRISH EMIGRANT.</h2> + +<p class="center">(<i>Latest Version, with apologies to Lady Dufferin.</i>)</p> + +<blockquote><p>[Senator <span class="sc">Chandler</span>, in <i>The North-American Review</i>, recommends that +immigration into the United States should be suspended, at least for a year.] +</p></blockquote> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Oi'm sittin' on the stile, <span class="sc">Mary</span>, an' lookin' o'er the tide,</p> +<p>An' by jabers Oi'm afraid, Aroon, that there Oi'll <i>have</i> to bide!</p> +<p>The grass is springin' fresh an' green in Ould Oireland, but oh moy!</p> +<p>If there's any green in <span class="sc">Jonathan's</span> land, <i>it is not in his oi</i>!</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p>The States are awful changed, <span class="sc">Mary</span>; it is not <i>now</i> as <i>then</i>,</p> +<p>When they lifted a free latch-string to all exiled Oirishmen.</p> +<p>Now we miss the whoop ov welcome; they suggest it's loike our cheek,</p> +<p>And Oi'm listenin' for brave <span class="sc">Lowell's</span> words—which <span class="sc">Chandler</span> does <i>not</i> speak!</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p>It seems to me their Aigle for full Freedom no more pants,</p> +<p>And the Senator, he mutthers ov "degraded immigrants."</p> +<p>Says they can't "assimilate" us; faix, the wurrud sounds monstrous foine,</p> +<p>But Oi fancy that it's maning is, "We mane to draw the loine!"</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Shure, we're "ignorant and debased," dear; and the poor won't now find friends</p> +<p>Even in free Columbia! So 'tis thus the ould boast ends!</p> +<p>"Stop 'em—for a year," says <span class="sc">Chandler</span>; "we'll be holding our Big Show,</p> +<p>An' poverty, an'—well, Cholera, are not wanted <i>thin</i>, you know."</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p>It's an artful move, my <span class="sc">Mary</span>, but, it stroikes me, a bit thin,</p> +<p>And it won't come home consolin', to "the poor ov Adam's kin."</p> +<p>Faix! they won't stop 'cabin passengers,' big-wigs, an' British Peerage,</p> +<p>But—<i>they don't want the poor devils that crowd over in the steerage</i>!</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p>So Oi'm sittin' on the stile, <span class="sc">Mary</span>, and there Oi'll loikely sthop,</p> +<p>For they don't require poor <span class="sc">Paddy</span> in their big new <span class="sc">Chandler's</span> Shop.</p> +<p>Uncle <span class="sc">Sam</span>'s some punkins, <span class="sc">Mary</span>, but he's not a great green goose;</p> +<p>An' he's goin' to sthop a braggin' ov that latch-string always loose!</p> +</div></div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>MIXED NOTIONS—NO. IV. EGYPT.</h2> + +<blockquote><p><i>Two</i> Well-Informed Men, <i>an</i> Inquirer, <i>and an</i> Average Man, <i>in +suburban morning train to London</i>.</p></blockquote> + +<div class="drama"> +<p><i>First Well-Informed Man</i> (<i>reading his paper</i>). Oh, I say, dash it, +this'll never do. Here's this young <span class="sc">Khedive</span> of Egypt kicking up a +shine, and dismissing British Ministers. We can't have that, you know.</p> + +<p><i>Inquirer.</i> What Ministers has he dismissed?</p> + +<p><i>First W. I. M.</i> Why, British Ministers,—at least (<i>reading on</i>) I +mean Egyptian Ministers; that's to say, chaps whom we appointed.</p> + +<p><i>Second W. I. M.</i> Come, come, we couldn't appoint Egyptian +Ministers, could we?</p> + +<p><i>First W. I. M.</i> Oh, it comes to exactly the same thing; they're +appointed subject to our proviso (<i>consulting paper</i>), yes, subject to our +veto, and then this little whipper-snapper goes and gives them the +chuck. He'll jolly soon have to climb down off that.</p> + +<p><i>Average Man.</i> Gently! The young chap's King, after all, isn't he? +I thought Kings might appoint or dismiss Ministers as they liked.</p> + +<p><i>First W. I. M.</i> Oh, rot! The <span class="sc">Queen</span> can't appoint her own +Ministers. We all know that. They're appointed by the Prime +Minister. Any fool knows that.</p> + +<p><i>Inquirer.</i> But who appoints the Prime Minister?</p> + +<p><i>First W. I. M.</i> He appoints himself, and tells the <span class="sc">Queen</span> he's +done it. They all go and kiss hands and get their seals, or something +of that sort.</p> + +<p><i>Inquirer.</i> Of course, of course. I forgot that. But how about +these Egyptian beggars?</p> + +<p><i>First W. I. M.</i> The <span class="sc">Khedive's</span> had the cheek to dismiss the +Ministry, and shove another lot in. I see Lord <span class="sc">Cromer</span> has been to +the Palace to protest.</p> + +<p><i>Inquirer.</i> Lord <span class="sc">Cromer</span>! Who's he?</p> + +<p><i>First W. I. M.</i> My dear fellow, fancy not knowing that! Lord +<span class="sc">Cromer's</span> our Ambassador at Cairo.</p> + +<p><i>Second W. I. M.</i> Oh, nonsense. There are no ambassadors at Cairo.</p> + +<p><i>First W. I. M.</i> Aren't there? Oh, indeed. Well, then perhaps +you'll tell me what Lord <span class="sc">Cromer</span> is?</p> + +<p><i>Second W. I. M.</i> He's our Minister. That's what they call them.</p> + +<p><i>Inquirer.</i> Was it him the <span class="sc">Khedive</span> dismissed, then?</p> + +<p><i>Second W. I. M.</i> (<i>laughing heartily</i>). No, no; we haven't got to +that yet. He dismissed his own Johnnies, of course; Egyptians. +Lord <span class="sc">Cromer's</span> the English Minister.</p> + +<p><i>Average Man.</i> No, he isn't. He's the English Agent.</p> + +<p><i>Second W. I. M.</i> Oh, well, it's the same thing.</p> + +<p><i>First W. I. M.</i> (<i>taking his revenge</i>). No, it isn't at all the same +thing; it's a very different thing. A Minister's only just short of +an Ambassador, and an Agent (<i>pauses</i>)—well, he's something quite +different. I don't think he gets as much pay for one thing, and of +course he can't live in the Embassy.</p> + +<p><i>Inquirer.</i> But who does live in the Embassy, then?</p> + +<p><i>First W. I. M.</i> It's unoccupied, of course.</p> + +<p><i>Average Man.</i> No, it isn't. There isn't any Embassy at all. [<i>A pause.</i></p> + +<p><i>Inquirer</i> (<i>returning to the charge</i>). But look here, who <i>is</i> Lord +<span class="sc">Cromer</span>? I never heard of him before. I thought we'd got <span class="sc">Baring</span> +or <span class="sc">Rothschild</span>, or somebody representing us in Egypt.</p> + +<p><i>First W. I. M.</i> (<i>with smiling superiority</i>). My dear chap, you're +thinking of Sir <span class="sc">Evelyn Baring</span>. He left Egypt long ago.</p> + +<p><i>Inquirer.</i> Why did he leave?</p> + +<p><i>First W. I. M.</i> Old <span class="sc">Gladstone</span> gave him the sack.</p> + +<p><i>Second W. I. M.</i> No, he didn't. <span class="sc">Gladstone</span> wasn't in power +when <span class="sc">Baring</span> left Egypt. It was <span class="sc">Salisbury</span> who dismissed him.</p> + +<p><i>First W. I. M.</i> I bet you a sov. it was <span class="sc">Gladstone</span>.</p> + +<p><i>Second W. I. M.</i> And I bet you a sov. it was <span class="sc">Salisbury</span>.</p> + +<p><i>Average Man.</i> You'll both lose. It was neither.</p> + +<p><i>First W. I. M.</i>, <i>Second W. I. M.</i> (<i>together</i>). Bosh! That's +impossible.</p> + +<p><i>Average Man.</i> It's a fact.</p> + +<p><i>First W. I. M.</i> (<i>triumphant</i>). Well, how do you account for his +not being there now?</p> + +<p><i>Average Man.</i> He is there.</p> + +<p><i>First W. I. M.</i> He isn't. Lord <span class="sc">Cromer's</span> there. Here it is. (<i>Producing +Times.</i>) "Lord <span class="sc">Cromer</span> has protested in person." So come!</p> + +<p><i>Average Man.</i> All right. I know all that. Only, unfortunately, +they're one and the same person.</p> + +<p><i>First W. I. M.</i>, <i>Second W. I. M.</i> (<i>together</i>). Oh, I daresay; and +you think we're going to swallow that. You tell that to your +Grandmother! [<i>Both remain absolutely unconvinced.</i></p> + +<p><i>Inquirer.</i> But what's this about the French? What have they +got to do with it?</p> + +<p><i>Second W. I. M.</i> Oh, they've got their fingers in every pie; +always making mischief.</p> + +<p><i>First W. I. M.</i> Quite true; but they'll find we're going to sit +tight in spite of them, so the sooner they cart themselves and their +blessed old Pyramids out of the country the better.</p> + +<p><i>Inquirer.</i> Why should they take the Pyramids?</p> + +<p><i>First W. I. M.</i> Well, they built 'em, so I suppose they've got a +right to do what they like with them.</p> + +<p><i>Inquirer.</i> Of course. [<i>Terminus.</i></p> +</div> +<hr /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page50" id="page50"></a>[pg 50]</span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/050.png"><img width="100%" src="images/050.png" alt="H.M.S. 'TOKO.'" /></a><h3>"H.M.S. 'TOKO.'"</h3> + +<p><i>Nurse Britannia.</i> "<span class="sc">Allow me to inform your Highness here comes a Box of Soldiers you <i>mustn't</i> play with."</span></p></div> + +<hr /> + +<p><i>The Red Spider</i>, by <span class="sc">Baring Gould</span>, is to be dramatised. What +a chance this would have been for the "Brothers <span class="sc">Webb</span>," were +they still in stage-land.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class="sc">Sole Survivors</span>.—The uppers of a Tramp's highlows.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class="sc">Sharp Fighting at Rangoon</span>.—We hope soon to hear that the +Kachins are Kachin' it hot.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class="sc">Advice to those "up a Gum Tree"</span> (<i>by "Non Possum</i>").—Come +down as quickly as you can, and don't stick there.</p> + +<hr /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page51" id="page51"></a>[pg 51]</span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:90%;"><a href="images/051.png"><img width="100%" src="images/051.png" alt="A LESSON IN FRENCH." /></a><h3>A LESSON IN FRENCH.</h3> + +<p><i>Fräulein Schnips</i> (<i>who does not devote as much attention to the Toilet as she does to Study, addresses Master Edward who has been made to join +in his Sister's lessons during his holidays</i>). "<span class="sc">Edfard, fot is 'I vash my Hands' in French</span>?"</p> + +<p><i>Master Edward</i> (<i>sulkily</i>). "<span class="sc">Je me lave les mains</span>."</p> + +<p><i>F. S.</i> "<span class="sc">Now den. 'I do not vash my Hands.' Gu'est-ce gue c'est gue ça</span>?"</p> + +<p><i>Master Edward</i> (<i>seizing his opportunity</i>). "<span class="sc">Eh bien, c'est une habitude sale, dont vous devriez avoir honte</span>!"</p></div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>"SOME DAY!"</h2> + +<p class="center">(<i>Latest Egyptian Version of Milton Welling's +popular Song.</i>)</p> + +<p class="center">Mr. <span class="sc">Bull</span> <i>to</i> Miss <span class="sc">Egypt</span>, <i>sings</i>:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>I know not when the day shall be,</p> +<p class="i2">I know not when we two shall part;</p> +<p>What farewell you will give to me,</p> +<p class="i2">Or will your words be sweet or tart?</p> +<p>It may not be till years have passed,</p> +<p class="i2">Till France grows calm, young <span class="sc">Abbas</span> grey;</p> +<p>But I am pledged—so, love, at last,</p> +<p class="i2">Our hands, our hearts must part—<i>some day</i>!</p> +<p class="i8">Some day, some day,</p> +<p class="i10">Some day I shall leave you!</p> +<p class="i8">Love, I know not when or how,</p> +<p class="i10">(So I can but vaguely vow)</p> +<p class="i10">Only this, only this,</p> +<p class="i8">(Which I trust won't grieve you),</p> +<p>Only this—I <i>can't</i> go now, I can't <i>go</i> now, I can't go <i>Now</i>!</p> +</div> <div class="stanza"> +<p>I know not if 'tis far or near,</p> +<p class="i2">Some six months' hence, while we both live;</p> +<p>I know not who the blame shall bear,</p> +<p class="i2">Or who protest, or who forgive;</p> +<p>But when we part, some day, some day,</p> +<p class="i2">France, fairer grown, the truth may see,</p> +<p>And all those clouds be rolled away</p> +<p class="i2">That darken love 'twixt her and me.</p> +<p class="i8">Some day, some day,</p> +<p class="i10">Some day I must leave you!</p> +<p class="i8">Lawks! I know not when or how,</p> +<p class="i8">(Though the Powers kick up a row),</p> +<p class="i10">Only this, only this,</p> +<p class="i8">(Which I won't deceive you),</p> +<p>Only this—I can't go <i>now</i>, I shan't go <i>now</i>, I won't go <i>Now</i>!</p> +</div></div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>IS SCIENCE PLAYED OUT?</h2> + +<blockquote><p>["In a grain of butter you have 47,250,000 +microbes. When you eat a slice of bread-and-butter, +you therefore must swallow as many +microbes as there are people in Europe."—"Science +Notes" in <i>Daily Chronicle</i>.]</p></blockquote> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Charlotte, eating bread-and-butter,</p> +<p>Read this Note with horror utter,</p> +<p>And (assisted by the cutter)</p> +<p>Went on eating bread-and-butter!</p> +<p>Man will say—with due apology</p> +<p>To alarmed Bacteriology—</p> +<p>Spite of menacing bacilli,</p> +<p>Man <i>must</i> eat, friend, willy-nilly!</p> +<p>And where <i>shall</i> he find due foison</p> +<p>If e'en bread-and-butter's poison?</p> +<p>Science told our amorous Misses</p> +<p>Death may be conveyed <i>in kisses</i>;</p> +<p>But it did not keep the nation</p> +<p>From promiscuous osculation.</p> +<p>Now it warneth the "Young Person"</p> +<p>(Whom <span class="sc">Grant Allen</span> voids his curse on)</p> +<p>"Bread-and-butter Misses" even</p> +<p>In <i>their</i> food may find death's leaven!</p> +<p>Never mind how this is made out!</p> +<p>Science—as a Bogey's—played out.</p> +<p>Spite all warnings it may utter,</p> +<p>Women <i>will</i> have Bread-and-Butter!</p> +</div></div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>OUT OF WORK.</h2> + +<blockquote><p>(<i>After reading "Outcast London" by the Daily +Chronicle's Special Commissioner at the +East End.</i>)</p></blockquote> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Divines inform us that the Primal Curse</p> +<p class="i2">On poor humanity was Compulsory Work;</p> +<p>But Civilisation has devised a worse,</p> +<p class="i2">Which even Christian effort seems to shirk.</p> +<p>The Worker's woes love may assuage. Ah, yes!</p> +<p>But what shall help Compulsory Worklessness?</p> +<p>Not Faith—Hope—Charity even! All the Graces</p> +<p>Are helpless, without Wisdom in high places.</p> +<p>Though liberal alms relieve the kindly soul,</p> +<p>You can't cure destitution by a dole.</p> +<p>No, these are days when men must dare to try</p> +<p>What a Duke calls—<span class="sc">Argyll</span> the high-and-dry—</p> +<p>"The Unseen Foundations of Society";</p> +<p>And not, like wealthy big-wigs, be content</p> +<p>With smart attacks on "Theories of Rent."</p> +<p>Most theories of rent we know, the fact is</p> +<p>What we have doubts about, Duke, is—the practice!</p> +<p>When Rent in Power's hands becomes a rack</p> +<p>To torture Toil, bold wisdom will hark back</p> +<p>To the beginnings and the bases; ask</p> +<p><i>What</i> hides beneath that Economic mask</p> +<p>Which smiles unmoved by Sorrow's strain and stress</p> +<p>On half-starved Work and whole-starved Worklessness!</p> +</div></div> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page52" id="page52"></a>[pg 52]</span> + +<h2>THE MAN FROM BLANKLEY'S.</h2> + +<p class="center"><span class="sc">A Story in Scenes</span>.</p> + +<blockquote><p><span class="sc">Scene</span> IV.—Mrs. <span class="sc">Tidmarsh's</span> <i>Drawing-room</i>; <span class="sc">Mr. Tidmarsh</span> <i>has +just shaken hands with the latest arrival, and is still in the +utmost perplexity as to the best manner to adopt towards him. +The other Guests are conversing, with increased animation, at +the further end of the room.</i></p></blockquote> + +<div class="drama"> +<p><i>Lord Strathsporran</i> (<i>to</i> Mr. <span class="sc">Tidmarsh</span>). Afraid I'm most abominably +late—had some difficulty in getting here—such +a fog, don't you know! It's really uncommonly +good of you to let me come and see your +antiquities like this. If I am not mistaken, you have +got together a collection of sepulchral objects +worth coming any distance to study. [<i>He glances +round the room, in evident +astonishment.</i></p> + +<p><i>Mr. Tid.</i> (<i>to himself</i>). +Nice names to give my +dinner-party! Impudent +young dog, this—Lord +or no Lord! +(<i>Aloud, with dignity.</i>) +I—ha—hum—don't +think that's quite the +way to speak of them, +Sir—my Lord, I suppose +I <i>ought</i> to say!</p> + +<p><i>Lord Strath.</i> Oh, I +expect a most interesting +evening, I assure +you.</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Tid.</i> Well, I—I +daresay you'll have no +cause to complain, so +far as <i>that</i> goes, Lord—er—<span class="sc">Strath</span>—you'll excuse +me, but I haven't +<i>quite</i> got accustomed to +that title of yours.</p> + +<p><i>Lord Strath.</i> (<i>smiling</i>). +Not surprised at +that—feel much the +same myself.</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Tid.</i> Ha—well, +to tell you the honest +truth, I should have +been just as pleased if +you had come here +<i>without</i> any handle of +that sort to your name.</p> + +<p><i>Lord Strath.</i> Quite +unnecessary to tell me +so—and, you see, I +couldn't very well help +myself.</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Tid.</i> (<i>to himself</i>). +<span class="sc">Blankley</span> sends 'em +<i>all</i> out with titles—then +his <i>is</i> bogus! (<i>Aloud.</i>) +Oh, I don't blame <i>you</i>, +if it's the rule; +only—(<i>irritably</i>)—well, it +makes me feel so devilish +<i>awkward</i>, you +know!</p> + +<p><i>Lord Strath.</i> Extremely +sorry—don't +know why it should. +(<i>To himself.</i>) Queer +little chap my host. +Don't <i>look</i> the Egyptologist +exactly. And +where does he keep all +his things? Downstairs, +I suppose. (<i>He turns, +and recognises</i> Miss <span class="sc">Seaton</span>.) +<span class="sc">Marjory Seaton</span>—here! and I've been trying to hear something +of her ever since I came back from Gîzeh—this <i>is</i> luck! (<i>To +her.</i>) How do you do, Miss <span class="sc">Seaton</span>? No idea we should meet like this!</p></div> + +<div class="figright" style="width:50%;"><a href="images/052.png"><img width="100%" src="images/052.png" alt="I look upon him simply as a human being." /></a><p class="center">"I look upon him simply as a human being."</p></div> + +<div class="drama"> +<p><i>Miss Seaton</i> (<i>in a low constrained voice</i>). Nor I, Mr. <span class="sc">Claymore</span>. [Mr. <span class="sc">Tidmarsh</span> <i>catches his Wife's eye, and crosses to her.</i></p> + +<p><i>Mrs. Tid.</i> (<i>sotto voce</i>). <span class="sc">Montague</span>, isn't it time you introduced me +to this Lord Whatever-it-is? As the person of highest rank here, +he certainly ought to take <i>me</i> in!</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Tid.</i> He's <i>done</i> it, <span class="sc">Maria</span>. He's no more a Lord than I am. +Miss <span class="sc">Seaton</span> knows him—I just heard her call him "Mr. <span class="sc">Clayton</span>," +or some name like that!</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. Tid.</i> (<i>aghast.</i>) So <i>this</i> is the sort of person you <i>would</i> go and +engage! He'll be found out, <span class="sc">Montague</span>, I can see Uncle edging up +towards him already. And anyhow, you know what his opinions +are. A pretty scrape you've got us into! Don't stand gaping—bring +the man up to me this minute—I must give him a hint to be +careful. (<i>Lord S. is led up and presented.</i>) Sit down here, please, +in this corner, Lord—(<i>with a vicious emphasis</i>)—<span class="sc">Strath-<i>Blankley</i></span>. +(Lord. S. <i>obeys in mild amazement.</i>) Really, my husband and I +were <i>hardly</i> prepared for so <i>aristocratic</i> a guest—we are such plain +humdrum people that a title—a <i>real</i> +title like your <i>lordship's</i>—ahoo!—(<i>with +an acid titter</i>)—is, well—<i>rather</i> +overwhelming. I only hope you +will be able to—er—sustain it, or +otherwise——</p> + +<p><i>Lord Strath.</i> (<i>lifting +his eyebrows.</i>) Am I to +understand that you +did not expect me, after +all? Because, if so,—I——</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. Tid.</i> Oh, yes, +we <i>expected</i> you, and +of course, you will be +treated exactly the +same as everybody else—except—I +don't know +if my husband warned +you about not touching +the champagne? No? +Oh, well, you will drink +<i>claret</i> please, <i>not</i> champagne. +I daresay you +prefer it.</p> + +<p><i>Lord Strath.</i> Thank +you, I should indeed—if +you have any misgivings +about your +champagne.</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. Tid.</i> We must +draw <i>some</i> distinction +between you and our +regular guests, as I'm +sure you'll understand.</p> + +<p><i>Lord Strath.</i> (<i>to himself.</i>) +Poor devils—if +they only knew! But +what an unspeakable +snob this woman is! +I'd give something to +get out of this house—if +it wasn't for <span class="sc">Marjory</span>. +I must have a +word with her before +dinner—strikes me +she's put out with me +about something or +other.</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. Gilwattle</i> (<i>to +her Husband</i>). Did you +ever see anything like +the way <span class="sc">Maria's</span> talking +to that young nobleman, +<span class="sc">Gabriel</span>? as easy +and composed as if +she'd kept such company +all her life—it's a +wonder how she can <i>do</i> +it!</p> + +<p><i>Uncle Gab.</i> Look at +the finishing she's had! +And after all, he's flesh +and blood like ourselves. +She might introduce +you and me to him, +though—it looks as if she was ashamed of her own relations. I +shall go up and introduce myself in a minute, and do what I can to +make the young fellow feel himself at home. (<i>Intercepting</i> Lord S. +<i>in the act of moving towards</i> Miss <span class="sc">Seaton</span>.) Excuse me, my Lord, +but, as the uncle of our worthy host and hostess, I should like the +honour of shaking you by the hand. (<i>He shakes hands.</i>) My +name's <span class="sc">Gilwattle</span>, my Lord, and I ought to tell you before I go any +further that I've no superstitious reverence for rank. Whether a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page53" id="page53"></a>[pg 53]</span> +man's a lord or a linen-draper, is exactly the same to me—I look +upon him dimply as a human being.</p> + +<p><i>Lord Strath.</i> Quite so? he—ah—generally <i>is</i>, isn't he?</p> + +<p><i>Uncle Gab.</i> Very handsome of your Lordship to admit it, I'm sure—but +what I <i>mean</i> to say is, I regard any friend of my niece and +nephew's as a friend of mine—be he a Duke or be he a Dustman.</p> + +<p><i>Lord Strath.</i> Unhappily for me, I'm neither a Duke nor a Dustman, +and—er—will you kindly excuse me? (<i>To himself as he passes +on.</i>) That old gentleman makes me quite ill. Ah, <span class="sc">Marjory</span> at last! +(<i>To</i> Miss <span class="sc">Seaton</span>.) You've scarcely spoken a word to me yet! I +hoped somehow you'd look a little pleased to see me—after all +this time!</p> + +<p><i>Miss Seaton.</i> Pleased? I can hardly be that under the circumstances, +Mr. <span class="sc">Claymore</span>!</p> + +<p><i>Lord Strath.</i> Well, I only thought—we used to be such friends +once. You seem so changed!</p> + +<p><i>Miss Seaton.</i> I am not the only one who is changed, I think. You +seem to have changed everything—even your name. What ought I +to call you, by the way, I didn't catch it exactly. "Lord <span class="sc">Somebody</span>," +wasn't it?</p> + +<p><i>Lord Strath.</i> Never mind the confounded name, I have heard quite +enough of it already! It's not my fault if I'm what I am. <i>I</i> never +wanted to be <span class="sc">Strathsporran</span>!</p> + +<p><i>Miss Seaton.</i> Then you really are Lord <span class="sc">Strathsporran</span>! Oh, +<span class="sc">Douglas</span>, how <i>could</i> you?</p> + +<p><i>Lord Strath.</i> I didn't. It was all that accident to my poor uncle +and cousin. And I'm about the poorest Peer in Scotland; if <i>that's</i> +any excuse for me!</p> + +<p><i>Miss Seaton.</i> How can it be any excuse for your coming here? +Have you no pride, <span class="sc">Douglas</span>!</p> + +<p><i>Lord Strath.</i> My goodness, what is there to be proud about? +Why <i>shouldn't</i> I dine with anybody, provided——?</p> + +<p><i>Miss Seaton.</i> Please don't excuse yourself—I can't bear it. You +<i>know</i> it is unworthy of you to be here!</p> + +<p><i>Lord Strath.</i> I don't indeed. I came here simply as a——</p> + +<p><i>Miss Seaton.</i> Don't trouble to tell me—I know <i>everything</i>. And—and +you ought to have <i>died</i> rather than descend to this!</p> + +<p><i>Lord Strath.</i> Ought I? Died, eh? That never occurred to me; +and, after all, <span class="sc">Marjory</span>, <i>you</i>'re here! What's wrong? What +have I let myself in for?</p> + +<p><i>Miss Seaton</i> (<i>bitterly</i>). What have you let yourself <i>out</i> for, you +mean, don't you?</p> + +<p><i>Lord Strath.</i> (<i>mystified</i>). <i>I</i> don't know! I believe my man let +me out; and, anyway, what <i>does</i> it matter now I've come? There's +dinner announced. <span class="sc">Marjory</span>, before we're separated, just tell me +what on earth I've done to deserve this sort of thing!</p> + +<p><i>Miss Seaton</i> (<i>with a little gesture of despair</i>). Is it possible you +want to be told how <i>horribly</i> you have disappointed me!</p> +</div> + <blockquote><p>[<i>The couples are forming to go down.</i></p></blockquote> +<div class="drama"> +<p><i>Lord Strath.</i> (<i>stiffly</i>). I can only say the disappointment is mutual!</p> +</div> + +<blockquote><p>[<i>He moves away, and awaits his hostess's directions.</i></p></blockquote> +<div class="drama"> +<p><i>Little Gwennie</i> (<i>stealing up to her Governess</i>). Oh, Miss <span class="sc">Seaton</span>, +<i>haven't</i> I been good? I've kept quite quiet in a corner, and I +haven't said a single word to anybody ever since he came. But +<i>what</i> nice Gentlemen <span class="sc">Blankley</span> does send, doesn't he?</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. Tid.</i> (<i>on</i> Uncle <span class="sc">Gabriel's</span> <i>arm</i>). Oh, I quite forgot <i>you</i>, Lord—ah—<span class="sc">Strathporridge</span>. +As you and Miss <span class="sc">Seaton</span> seem to be +already acquainted, perhaps you will have the goodness to take her +down? You will sit on my left—on the fireplace side—and—(<i>in a +whisper</i>)—the less you say the better!</p> + +<p><i>Lord Strath.</i> I am <i>quite</i> of your opinion. (<i>To himself.</i>) Can't +make my hostess out, for the life of me—or <span class="sc">Marjory</span> either, if it +comes to that! This is going to be a lively dinner-party, I can see!</p> +</div> + +<blockquote><p>[<i>He gives his arm to</i> Miss <span class="sc">Seaton</span>, <i>who accepts it without looking +at him; they go downstairs in constrained silence.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p class="center">(<i>End of Scene IV.</i>)</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>QUEER QUERIES.—<span class="sc">City Improvements</span>.—How much longer +are we to wait for the widening of the whole of Cheapside, the +removal of the Post-Office Buildings to a more convenient site, and +the total and unconditional sweeping away of Paternoster Row and +the south side of Newgate Street? These slight alterations are +<i>imperatively required</i>. They will only cost about ten millions, and +what are ten millions to the Corporation? As I purchased the five +square yards on which my little tobacco-shop is built in confident +expectation of being bought out at a high figure, I consider that any +further delay in the matter involves something like a breach of +public faith. Why should not the Government help? They have +lots of money, and I haven't.—<span class="sc">Disinterested</span>.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>"<span class="sc">Facts and Figures</span>."—The business of the Labour Commissioner +has to be very delicately managed. There must be a good deal of +"give and take" in the work. However much "taking" there +may be, there is sure to be plenty of <i>Giffen</i>.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.</h2> + +<div class="figleft" style="width:30%;"><a href="images/053.png"><img width="100%" src="images/053.png" alt="" /></a></div> + +<p>There is something fascinating +about the title of +Mr. <span class="sc">McCullagh Torrens</span>' +book, published in +one handsome volume, by +<span class="sc">Bentley</span>. There should +be a good deal in <i>Twenty +Years in Parliament</i>, +more so when the epoch +covers recollections of +<span class="sc">Palmerston</span> in his green +old age, Mr. <span class="sc">Gladstone</span> +in his prime, <span class="sc">Bright</span> in +his political prize-fighting +trim, <span class="sc">Cobden, Tom Duncan, +Monckton Milnes, +John Stuart Mill, Isaac +Butt</span>, and a host of other +ghosts that have flitted +off the scene. My Baronite +turned to the book +with gusto, read it +through with patience, +and left it with disappointment. +Mr. <span class="sc">Torrens</span> +knew all these men personally; in fact, he was indispensable to +them. One marvels to find, from hints dropped and assertions +boldly made, how much they were severally indebted to him for +counsel and inspiration through the twenty years the narrative +vaguely covers. The figures of the men named loom large in +history; but they were all stuffed. The wires were pulled by plain +unappreciated <span class="sc">McCullagh Torrens</span>. The weight of the responsibility +has had the effect of somewhat muddling the narrative, and, +from time to time, the diligent reader does not know exactly where +he is. He begins with some episode in which <span class="sc">Dizzy</span>, with arm +affectionately linked with that of <span class="sc">McCullagh Torrens</span>, is walking +along Pall Mall, when a passing Bishop obsequiously takes off his +hat and bows. <span class="sc">McCullagh</span> modestly says this obeisance was paid +to <span class="sc">Dizzy</span>, but <i>we</i> know very well it was to <span class="sc">McCullagh</span>. Then, +before we know where we are, we are in the middle of an account of +the Bulgarian atrocities, the Russo-Turkish war, what Count <span class="sc">Beust</span> +said to <span class="sc">McCullagh</span>, and how, in debate on the Vote of Six Millions, +"a Right Hon. friend who sat next to me urged me to add a few +words to what had been better said by others in this sense." Better +said! Oh, <span class="sc">McCullagh</span>! Oh, <span class="sc">Torrens</span>! There is an ancient story +of an old gentleman who had a treasured anecdote connected with +the going off of a gun. When he could not drag it in otherwise, he +was wont to furtively lift his foot and kick the table. "Hallo, +what's that?" he cried. "Sounds like a gun; that reminds me"—and +then the story. Thus Mr. <span class="sc">Torrens</span> drags in successive +Parliamentary episodes through twenty years—the Disestablishment +of the Church, the Charity Commission, State Aid to Emigrants, +School Board for London, Extradition, Artisans' Dwellings; gives a +not very clear summary of events leading up to each, and then treats +the entranced reader to the heads of the speech he delivered. The +book would have been more accurately entitled had it been called +<i>Twenty Years of McCullagh Torrens</i>, and old Members of the House +of Commons will agree that this is a little too much.</p> + +<p class="author"><span class="sc">Baron de Book-Worms & Co</span>.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>The Three.</h2> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Some hold it a terrible fault of omission</p> +<p>That Parsons sit not on the Poor-Law Commission.</p> +<p>Alas! Hope would smile, but she finds it a rarity</p> +<p>For "Faith" not to hamper the freedom of Charity.</p> +<p>The world will look bright when we find in high places</p> +<p>A perfect accord 'twixt the Three Christian Graces!</p> +</div></div> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class="sc">The First Bal Masqué of the Season</span>.—Big success. Greater +crowd there than when these entertainments came to an end at the +beginning of last year. All sorts of disguises were permitted, but +it is said that two <i>viveurs</i> who came late, disguised in liquor, were +denied entrance. The Snow Man found it very hot, and melted. +Prizes were to be given away. But there was one prize, an elegant +lady, closely masked and hooded, whose identity remained a puzzle +to everybody. At last "she gave herself away." The happy +recipient congratulated himself on winning the prize.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class="sc">Next, Please</span>!—Suggested subject for the next Newspaper Controversy:—"Is +<span class="sc">Robert Buchanan</span> played out?"</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>"<span class="sc">Rent Reductions</span>" can generally be satisfactorily made <i>pro +tem.</i> with a needle and thread.</p> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page54" id="page54"></a>[pg 54]</span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:90%;"><a href="images/054.png"><img width="100%" src="images/054.png" alt="THE PLAY'S THE THING!" /></a><h3>"THE PLAY'S THE THING!"</h3> + +<p class="center">"<span class="sc">Could I Have a Fortnight's Leave, Sir?</span>" "<span class="sc">What for, Pray?</span>" "<span class="sc">Urgent Private Theatricals!</span>"</p></div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>THE FISHERMAN AND THE GENIUS.</h2> + +<p class="center">(<i>Fragmentary and Unfinished Extracts from the Arabian Nights, Up to Date.</i>)</p> + +<p>"Sir," said <span class="sc">Sheeverready</span>, "how pleasant soever these stories +may be that I have told your Majesty hitherto, they do not come +near that of the Fisherman and the Genius."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>There was an ancient, but hale and opulent Fisherman, who had +fished with much success for many a day in troubled waters. This +practice of his involved him, of course, in extremely arduous +labours, but resulted, generally, in securing him a fair share of +hard-earned spoil, to the great envy of other fishermen of less hardihood +and enterprise. He imposed it upon himself, however, as a +law, not to cast his nets save during a certain season—or session, as +he called it—which usually arrived but once a year.</p> + +<p>His fortune, for some fishing seasons past, had been of a variable, +and not too satisfactory sort. It is <i>not</i> encouraging, after casting +one's nets during a prolonged spell of rough weather, and confidently +anticipating a good draught of fish, to perceive that, instead of fish, +there is nothing in one's net save such unsought spoil as the carcase +of an Egyptian ass, a basket-full of gravel and slime of no substantial +utility, or quantities of stones and mud, fit for nothing but +for use as missiles among quarrelsome boys.</p> + +<p>"O Fortune," cried he; "be not so persistently perverse, nor +persecute an ancient fisherman who groweth a-weary of tumultuous +billows, turbid floods, broken and filth-obstructed nets, and unprofitable +hauls!"</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Now, behold, it was told to this Fisherman by a certain Grand Old +Voice, vague but sonorous, and voluble exceedingly, that if he +would only make a complete change in his nets, and in the fashion +of his fishing, miraculous draughts would become as common as +minnows in a brook. This Voice visited our Fisherman often in his +visions. And, behold, the Fisherman essayed the schemes suggested +by the Voice. Not at first, it must be admitted, with supreme success, +or entire satisfaction to the Fisherman himself. The Voice, +however, attributed this qualified fortune to the Fisherman's lack +of perfect trust, and of entire reform in his fashion of fishing. +"Behold," cried the Voice, vibrating vehemently, "you have allowed +yourself to be diverted by the sinister councils of antiquated obscurantists +from implicit faith in my programmes and prescriptions!"</p> + +<p>"And what, in brief and plain language, <i>are</i> these latter?" +inquired the anxious but puzzled Fisherman.</p> + +<p>"Nay," answered the Voice, sardonically; "that were to inquire +too nicely. But place your fortunes absolutely in my charge; follow +my lead with unquestioning loyalty, and verily you shall see great +results."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>The Fisherman, much impressed with these assurances, cast his +nets once more in the new fashion; and when he thought it was +time, he drew them in as formerly, with great difficulty. But, +instead of fish, found nothing in them but a vessel of brass, which, +by the weight, seemed to be full of something; and he observed +that it was shut up with singular tightness, and sealed up with a +thick coating of official-looking wax. And the Seal was Green, +green as the abounding grass, or the scarce four-leaved shamrock of +that amazing Isle of Emeralds, which some deem as much matter of +myth as <span class="sc">Sindbad's</span> Valley of Diamonds.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>The Fisherman examined the vessel on all sides, and shook it to +see if what was in it made any noise, but heard nothing. This circumstance, +with the impression of the seal upon the cover (which +seemed to represent two Hearts linked in Union by some mystic +abracadabra of unknown words) made him think there was something +precious—or at least peculiar—in it. To try this, he opened it. +He presently turned the mouth downward, but nothing came out, +which surprised him extremely. He set it before him, and while he +looked upon it attentively, there arose from it a very thick smoke, +which obliged him to retire two or three paces from it.</p> + +<p>The smoke ascended to the clouds, and, extending itself along the +sea and upon the shore, formed a great mist, which we may well +imagine did mightily astonish the Fisherman. When the smoke was +all out of the vessel, it slowly took shape, and became a solid-seeming +body, of which there was formed a Genius twice as high and +broad as any giant with which the Fisherman had been aforetime +familiar. At the sight of a monster of such unsizeable bulk, and +from which issued, in as yet unintelligible accents, a Voice which +seemed strangely familiar to his ears, the Fisherman——Here +<span class="sc">Sheeverready</span> perceiving day, broke off her story—for the time.</p> + +<hr /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page55" id="page55"></a>[pg 55]</span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:60%;"><a href="images/055.png"><img width="100%" src="images/055.png" alt="THE FISHERMAN AND THE GENIUS." /></a><h3>THE FISHERMAN AND THE GENIUS.</h3> + +<p class="center">(<i>Vide "Arabian Nights."</i>)</p></div> +<hr /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page56" id="page56"></a>[pg 56]</span><br /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page57" id="page57"></a>[pg 57]</span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:90%;"><a href="images/057a.png"><img width="100%" src="images/057a.png" alt="VERY CONSIDERATE." /></a><h3>VERY CONSIDERATE.</h3> + +<p><i>Mr. Phunkie.</i> "<span class="sc">Deaw me!—new Rails, I declare! Now if there is a Thing which is annoying to the Agriculturist, +in the present state of Depression, it is for People to go recklessly smashing Things of that sort. I shall certainly +put myself to the inconvenience of Going <i>Round</i>—ahem!—as an Example!</span>"</p></div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>"THE TICKET-OF-LEAVE MAN" AT CAMBRIDGE.</h2> + +<div class="figleft" style="width:20%;"><a href="images/057b.png"><img width="100%" src="images/057b.png" alt="" /></a></div> + +<p>Well done, the A. D. C.! Their performance of <span class="sc">Tom Taylor</span>'s +romantic, pathetic, melodramatic, crib-cracking, head- (though not +always side-) splitting play, was an admirable one, carefully rehearsed, +well stage-managed, and played with a fine feeling for the +capital situations in which the piece abounds. +Especially good was Mr. <span class="sc">Bromley-Davenport</span>'s +<i>Jem Dalton</i>, a finished and truculent +presentment of which any young amateur +and many an old professional might be proud. +<i>Hawkshaw</i> (Mr. <span class="sc">Dickinson</span>), too, was excellent, +and the <i>Bob Brierly</i> of Mr. <span class="sc">Thornton</span>, +the <i>Sam Willoughby</i> of Mr. <span class="sc">Theobald</span>, the +<i>Green Jones</i> of Mr. <span class="sc">Norman</span>, and the <i>Maltby</i> +of Mr. <span class="sc">Martineau</span>, were all good in their +several ways. As for the ladies—but who +does not know the A. D. C. ladies, those +visions of female loveliness, with big hands +bass voices, and projecting knees? Mr. +<span class="sc">Agar</span>, whose waist cannot have really measured more than twenty +inches round, was refined and charming as <i>Emily St. Evremond</i>, +while Mr. <span class="sc">Cornish</span>, though taller than most of his male associates, +played <i>May Edwards</i> quietly, and sympathetically. +<i>Mrs. Willoughby</i>, the stage realisation of <span class="sc">Arthur Sketchley</span>'s +<i>Mrs. Brown</i>, had full justice rendered to her garrulous good-nature +by Mr. <span class="sc">Stone</span>. But enough. It was a good performance. +Memories came floating back of a notable performance of this +same play by the A. D. C. far back in the remote ages between +'70 and '80. The <i>Bob Brierly</i> of those days has been Under-Secretary +of State for India, <i>Hawkshaw</i>, the Detective, occupies +a thorny throne as Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland, while <i>Jem Dalton</i> +has become the Burglar at the Court Theatre—a very natural +transition. Very great was Mr. <span class="sc">Brookfield</span> fifteen years ago as +the Cracksman, but great, also, was Mr. <span class="sc">Bromley-Davenport</span> last +week. <i>Dixi!</i></p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>DEARTH OF DANCING-MEN.</h2> + +<p>My <span class="sc">Julia</span> has been unusually fortunate this evening. She has +only had to sit out thirteen dances, and has already been given half +a polka by Mr. <span class="sc">Laysibohns</span>, who, however, seemed too tired to +finish it. Her view is, that "half a loafer is better than no dance."</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width:20%;"><a href="images/057c.png"><img width="100%" src="images/057c.png" alt="" /></a></div> + +<p>In order to get men, we have been obliged to +invite the gentlemanly crossing-sweeper at the +end of our road, two hawkers who sell blocks of +wood in the street, a respectable coal-heaver, +and our green-grocer's assistant. They have +each had half-a-dozen dancing lessons (at our +expense), and are to be paid a guinea a-piece, +on condition that they dance at least six dances +before going down to supper.</p> + +<p>Our boy <span class="sc">Bob</span>, who is always trying to be +funny, says he is afraid engaging these people +will turn put a "valse step."</p> + +<p>It certainly is rather slow for the Girls who +have not had a partner all the evening. Still, I did <i>not</i> expect +them to bring pencils and paper with them, and play games of "consequences" +in the billiard-room.</p> + +<p>Since Gentlemen have taken to sharing a dance among several +Ladies, they have become very conceited. My <span class="sc">Emily</span> is congratulating +herself that she has secured one undivided sixteenth part of +the next Lancers with that dear Mr. <span class="sc">Wynn Ingways</span>.</p> + +<p>A good part of Mr. <span class="sc">Masher</span>'s income is, it is said, derived from +the fact that Mothers, sooner than see their Girls sit idle all the +evening, are willing to allow him a handsome commission on +suitable introductions.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Bob</span> has asked <span class="sc">Julia</span> a riddle, which is—"What is the difference +between a game of whist and a ball-room?" The answer seems to +be, that in whist you cut for partners, but, in a ball-room, possible +partners cut you.</p> + +<p>It is quite true that we have decided to emigrate to North-West +Colorado, as my Girls say they will have far more chance of partners in +a country where the "surplus population" consists entirely of males.</p> + +<hr /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page58" id="page58"></a>[pg 58]</span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:70%;"><a href="images/058.png"><img width="100%" src="images/058.png" alt="TROP DE ZÈLE." /></a><h3>TROP DE ZÈLE.</h3> + +<p><i>Hostess.</i> "<span class="sc">Why are some of the Liqueur Glasses <i>empty</i>, Kathleen?</span>"</p> + +<p><i>The New Parlour Maid.</i> "<span class="sc">If you please, my Lady, they're for thim as don't take +any Liqueur!</span>"</p></div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>MARGARINA.</h2> + +<p class="center"><span class="sc">A Back-Street Ballad.</span></p> + +<p class="center"><span class="sc">Air</span>—"<i>Margarita.</i>"</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>I passed along a dim back-street, Margarina!</p> +<p>In search of something good to eat, Margarina!</p> +<p class="i2">O pallid tripe! O "faggots" queer!</p> +<p class="i2">Was ever such strange human cheer?</p> +<p class="i4">And O my heart, I loathed thee so,</p> +<p class="i4">There on show, there on show, Margarina!</p> +</div> <div class="stanza"> +<p>I saw thee in a sallow dab, Margarina!</p> +<p>Upon the grubby marble slab, Margarina!</p> +<p class="i2">O sickening stodge! O greasy shine!</p> +<p class="i2">O "Dairy Produce" miscalled "Fine"!</p> +<p class="i4">O haunt of all blue-flies that blow,</p> +<p class="i4">There on show, there on show, Margarina!</p> +</div> <div class="stanza"> +<p>I fled along that gloomy street, Margarina!</p> +<p>Disgusted, sickened, sad, dead-beat, Margarina!</p> +<p class="i2">Yet still I see that dingy slab,</p> +<p class="i2">That oleaginous pale, pale dab.</p> +<p class="i4">And thou art still on sale I know,</p> +<p class="i4">Where soot-flakes all, and blue-flies blow, Margarina!</p> +</div> <div class="stanza"> +<p>But every night at my snug tea, Margarina!</p> +<p>Over my toast I muse on thee, Margarina!</p> +<p class="i2">I sniff that smell, I see that dab,</p> +<p class="i2">That greasy, grimy, marble slab.</p> +<p class="i4">And thou art still the same I know,</p> +<p class="i4">The slum's strange love, the slum's strange love.</p> +<p class="i4">The poor man's "Butter," there on show! Margarina!</p> +</div></div> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class="sc">Mrs. Ram</span>, who had been listening to a +conversation among golf-players, and now +flatters herself on knowing something +about the game, observed—"I suppose, in +the Season, instead of Five-o'clock Teas, +the fashion at Hurlingham and those +places will be to have Golf Teas." She +didn't know that it was spelt 'Tees.'</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.</h2> + +<h4>EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M. P.</h4> + +<p><i>House of Commons, Tuesday, Jan. 31st.</i>—Back again in old place, +with <span class="sc">Speaker</span> in Chair, Mace on table, and Serjeant-at-Arms on +guard. Nothing changed except the Government. Some old +familiar faces gone; others replace them. Same old bustle, hearty +greeting, and effusive hand-shaking.</p> + +<p>"There's only one thing," says <span class="sc">Erskine</span>, of Cardross, "that +equals the hilarity of the opening of a New Session, and that is the +joy with which the boys go off on the day of Prorogation."</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Erskine</span> been in the Chair by the cross-benches some years now. +Naturally growing philosophical; insensibly cultivates habit of +sententious speech.</p> + +<p>"Wonder you can be so garrulous, <span class="sc">Toby</span>," he says, "considering +the number of Speeches you hear in a Session. We take in eloquence +at the pores, and I for one have no tendency toward exudation."</p> + +<p>"Ah," I said, "perhaps that's the lack of exercise. Dear old +<span class="sc">Gosset</span>! he was better off in that respect. Remember how he used +to waltz up and down between doorway and table with <span class="sc">Bradlaugh</span>? +A heavy partner, too, especially taken after dinner. But, on score of +health, not by any means an undesirable variation on sedentary life."</p> + +<p>"Well, well," said <span class="sc">Erskine</span>, whose forbears were out in '45, "we +must hope for the best." And the gallant Scot's hand involuntarily +sought the hilt of his sword as his keen eye roved over the Clan +gathered below the Gangway.</p> + +<p>A little odd at first to see Mr. G. on the Bench to the right of +<span class="sc">Speaker</span>, Prince <span class="sc">Arthur</span> facing him on Opposition Bench. They +seem to assume altered position quite naturally. Mr. G. looks pretty +much as he has done any time these two years back. Eager, +straight-backed, bright-eyed, smiling gaily in response to cheer +that greets him from at present undivided majority.</p> + +<p>"Pretty well, thank you, <span class="sc">Toby</span>. Only one thing the matter with +me, and that, you know, doesn't mend as the years pass. Looking +over <span class="sc">McCullagh Torrens'</span> book the other day, I noted what <span class="sc">Dizzy</span> +said when that genial statesman, the former Member for Finsbury, +inquired after the health of Lady <span class="sc">Beaconsfield</span>. 'They tell me +she is better, but you know what better is at 83.' I'm as well as +can be expected going o' 84. I must admit it's pretty well. I'll +undertake to walk a mile, run a mile, eat a meal, and make a speech +with any fellow ten years my junior."</p> + +<p>Certainly no one on Treasury Bench exceeds Mr. G. in vivacity or +overflowing energy. <span class="sc">Squire of Malwood</span> looks very fit, but there's +a massivity about his mirthful mood that becomes a Chancellor of +the Exchequer with a contingent surplus. Is much comforted by +consciousness that, whilst <span class="sc">Sage of Queen Anne's Gate</span> views composition +of Ministry with mixed feelings, and will not commit himself +to promise of fealty till he is in possession of full details of their +policy, he unreservedly approves the <span class="sc">Squire</span>.</p> + +<p>On other side, Her Majesty's late Ministers in state of almost +boisterous hilarity. Evidently inclined to regard deposition as a +joke. Prince <span class="sc">Arthur</span> beaming with delight. Something curiously +like a smile wreathes stolid countenance of Sir <span class="sc">James Fergusson</span>.</p> + +<p>"It's their turn now," says Prince <span class="sc">Arthur</span>, gleefully rubbing +his hands, "and I wish them joy of it. As for me, I shall live +my Saturday to Monday in peace, and shall go to the Opera every +Wednesday night in the Season."</p> + +<p>"You can go oftener if you like," said <span class="sc">Ellis Ashmead-Bartlett</span> +(Knight). "You may depend on my remaining here. I've thought +of a good many things to say during the last six years."</p> + +<p>"Ha," said Prince <span class="sc">Arthur</span>, thoughtfully, "then perhaps I may +absent myself through portions of other nights of the week."</p> + +<p><i>Business done.</i>—Address moved.</p> + +<hr /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page59" id="page59"></a>[pg 59]</span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:80%;"><a href="images/059.png"><img width="100%" src="images/059.png" alt="PARLIAMENTARY SHOOTING BEGINS, JANUARY 31." /></a><h3>PARLIAMENTARY SHOOTING BEGINS, JANUARY 31.</h3></div> + +<hr /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page60" id="page60"></a>[pg 60]</span> + +<h2>HIS LITTLE GAME AT THE COMEDY.</h2> + +<div class="figleft" style="width:33%;"><a href="images/060a.png"><img width="100%" src="images/060a.png" alt="Opening the Case." /></a><p class="center">Opening the Case.</p></div> + +<div class="figright" style="width:20%;"><a href="images/060b.png"><img width="100%" src="images/060b.png" alt="Briscoe, having lost one suit, gains another." /></a><p class="center">Briscoe, having lost one suit, gains another.</p></div> + +<p>Mr. Lestocq's amusing farce, <i>The Sportsman</i>, +now being played at the Comedy Theatre, +must inevitably recall to the experienced play-goer +the plot and situations of <i>The Serious +Family</i> and <i>The Colonel</i>, <i>Truth</i>, <i>The Candidate</i>, +<i>Artful Cards</i>, and it may be some +others of the same extensive dramatic family. +In this piece the husband, under pretence of +joining a shooting-party, is accustomed to +absent himself from home, in order to indulge +his propensity +for gambling, +and he invariably +brings home +to his wife the +hares and rabbits +he has shot. This +is "his little +game." Just so +did the husband +in <i>The Serious +Family</i>, when +<i>Aminadab Sleek</i> +remarks that he +has seen something +very like +them at a neighbouring +poulterer's. +In the +Second Act the +police make a +raid on the gambling +Club, and +the husband escapes +in any coat +he can lay hold +of, following the +example of the +unfortunate hero +of <i>Artful Cards</i>, +only that the +situation at the +end of <i>that</i> +Second Act was +far stronger in +that play than it +is in <i>The Sportsman</i>. +In <i>Artful Cards</i> the unfortunate hero +escaped, carrying a trombone, which turned up +in evidence against him when he was inventing +plausible explanations to his wife. In fact, +<i>The Sportsman</i> is concocted out of excellent +old material cleverly worked up, with +only one new point in it, to which, as it has +escaped the eye of the English adapter, it +would be useless to draw his attention; yet, +had he seen it, he might therefrom have +developed a really original sequence of perplexing +situations. The dialogue is not particularly +brilliant; jerky, not crisp. But such +is the "go" of the principals, and especially +of Mr. <span class="sc">Hawtrey</span>, who is the life and +soul of the farce, that the laughter is hearty +and continuous.</p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figright" style="width:20%;"><a href="images/060c.png"><img width="100%" src="images/060c.png" alt="" /></a></div> + +<h2>PATRIOTISM AT THE LAW COURTS.</h2> + +<p class="center">(<i>As we expect to see it.</i>)</p> + +<blockquote><p>["<span class="sc">The Inns of Court and the Volunteers.</span>—A +Meeting was held yesterday afternoon in the +Banqueting Hall of Lincoln's Inn for the purpose +of taking such steps as might be deemed necessary +to revive the former numerical strength of the +Inns of Court Corps of Volunteers, now sadly +below its proper strength."—<i>Daily Paper.</i>]</p></blockquote> + +<p>Frequent Meetings in the Banqueting Hall +will soon rectify the "reduced condition," +and, after a few gatherings, a gallant and +learned Q. C. will don his ancient tunic, and +present himself at Head Quarters.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>"THE ETERNAL FEMININE!"</h2> + +<p class="center">(<i>By a candid—if capricious—Conjugator.</i>)</p> + +<p><i>Amo, amas</i>—All love a lass!<br /> + +<i>Amamus, amatis</i>—Churls cry, <i>jam satis</i>!<br /> + +<i>Amat, amant</i>—But that's masculine cant!<br /> + +<i>Amem, ames</i>—We wish to please.<br /> + +<i>Amemus, ametis</i>—'Cos love so sweet is.<br /> + +<i>Amet, ament</i>—Man's never content!<br /> + +<i>Amavissem</i>—We yearn to kiss 'em.<br /> + +<i>Amavisses</i>—They accept our kisses.<br /> + +<i>Ama, amato</i>—Lips like a tomato.<br /> + +<i>Amate, amanto</i>—Move many a canto.<br /> + +<i>Amare, amavisse</i>—We Marry sweet Missy.<br /> + +<i>Amans, amaturus</i>—Her charms to secure us.<br /> + +<i>Amandum, amandi</i>—As wives they come handy.<br /> + +<i>Amando, amandum</i>—But we don't understand 'em.<br /> + +<i>Amandum, amando</i>—Their novels are grand, oh!<br /> + +<i>Amatum, amatu</i>—Cries male critic, "I'll slate you!"<br /> + +<i>Amor, amaris, amatur</i>—Woman goes like thunder when a starter!<br /> + +<i>Amamur, amamini, amantur</i>—And she swears she'll lick us in a canter!<br /> + +<i>Amemur, amemini, amentur</i>—And 'twill take us all our time to prevent her!</p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figright" style="width:20%;"><a href="images/060d.png"><img width="100%" src="images/060d.png" alt="" /></a></div> + +<h2>THE NEWEST HUMOUR.</h2> + +<blockquote><p>["The atmospheric envelope of the Globe is at +present in a baccilophil humour."—<i>Professor</i> <span class="sc">Pettenkofer</span> +<i>on Microbes, quoted by</i> <span class="sc">James Payn</span>.]</p></blockquote> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Is that the humour o 't, O learned Nym?</p> +<p>Well, these be days of mad and morbid whim,</p> +<p>When would-be wits strain wildly at a joke</p> +<p>As an o'erladen ox against the yoke.</p> +<p>But "a baccilophil humour"!—in the air!</p> +<p>Science does love the unlearned soul to scare,</p> +<p>But what does this thing mean? With fear to fill us?</p> +<p>Can aught thus love and cherish the Bacillus?</p> +<p>O "atmospheric envelope" <i>thy</i> humour</p> +<p>Is worse than—Blank's—if we may trust this rumour.</p> +<p>Since microbe "humour" fills both air and earth,</p> +<p>Farewell to honest fun and wholesome mirth!</p> +<p>Adieu to genial <span class="sc">Dickens</span>, gentle <span class="sc">Hood</span>!</p> +<p>Hail to the peddling pessimistic brood</p> +<p>Whose "nimini-pimimi" mouths, too small by half</p> +<p>To stretch themselves to a Homeric laugh,</p> +<p>Mince, in a mirror, to the "Paphian Mimp!"</p> +<p><span class="sc">Momus</span> is dead, and e'en that tricksy imp</p> +<p>Preposterous <i>Puck</i> hath too much native grit</p> +<p>To take the taste of <span class="sc">Osrick</span> turned a wit.</p> +<p>Humour baccilophil, microbic merriment,</p> +<p>Might suit him better. He will try the experiment.</p> +<p>His mirth's a smirk and not a paroxysm;</p> +<p>"Papa, potatoes, poultry, prunes and prism"</p> +<p>Do not disturb the "plie" of his prim lips,</p> +<p>Neither do cynic quirks and querulous quips.</p> +<p>Mirth would guffaw—when hearts and mouths were bigger,</p> +<p><span class="sc">Osrick</span> would shrink from aught beyond a snigger,</p> +<p>Such as is stirred by screeds of far-fetched whim.</p> +<p>Ay! that's the humour o't, sententious Nym.</p> +<p>Let's hail a dying century's latest birth,—</p> +<p>The Newest Humour—purged from taint of Mirth!</p> +</div></div> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class="sc">Mrs. Ram</span>'s practical knowledge of French +is not marvellous. She was discussing the +question as to whether the French Working-classes +cared for malt liquor as brewed in +England. The excellent Lady observed—"I +don't think so, because, if I remember rightly, +when I was in Paris, I was told always to +give the coachman money for drink, and this +they called 'poor beer.' So they couldn't care +for 'strong ale,' such as ours."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><font size="+1">☞</font>NOTICE.—Rejected Communications or Contributions, whether MS., Printed Matter, Drawings, or Pictures of any description, will +in no case be returned, not even when accompanied by a Stamped and Addressed Envelope, Cover, or Wrapper. To this rule +there will be no exception.</p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume +104, February 4, 1893, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH *** + +***** This file should be named 20538-h.htm or 20538-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/0/5/3/20538/ + +Produced by Matt Whittaker, Juliet Sutherland and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 104, February 4, 1893 + +Author: Various + +Editor: Francis Burnand + +Release Date: February 6, 2007 [EBook #20538] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH *** + + + + +Produced by Matt Whittaker, Juliet Sutherland and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + +PUNCH, + +OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. + +VOL. 104. + + + + +February 4, 1893. + + + + +[Illustration: WHEN A MAN DOES NOT LOOK HIS BEST. + +_Burglar_ (_taking the ground heavily_). "NAOW, 'OOEVER'D 'A' THOUGHT O' +THE HOWNER O' THAT THERE HINNERCENT LITTLE VILLA BEIN' A PERFESSIONAL +'CHUCKER-HOUT'?!!!"] + + * * * * * + +LAMENT OF THE (WOULD-BE) IRISH EMIGRANT. + +(_Latest Version, with apologies to Lady Dufferin._) + + [Senator CHANDLER, in _The North-American Review_, recommends that + immigration into the United States should be suspended, at least + for a year.] + + Oi'm sittin' on the stile, MARY, an' lookin' o'er the tide, + An' by jabers Oi'm afraid, Aroon, that there Oi'll _have_ to bide! + The grass is springin' fresh an' green in Ould Oireland, but oh moy! + If there's any green in JONATHAN'S land, _it is not in his oi_! + + The States are awful changed, MARY; it is not _now_ as _then_, + When they lifted a free latch-string to all exiled Oirishmen. + Now we miss the whoop ov welcome; they suggest it's loike our cheek, + And Oi'm listenin' for brave LOWELL'S words--which CHANDLER does _not_ + speak! + + It seems to me their Aigle for full Freedom no more pants, + And the Senator, he mutthers ov "degraded immigrants." + Says they can't "assimilate" us; faix, the wurrud sounds monstrous + foine, + But Oi fancy that it's maning is, "We mane to draw the loine!" + + Shure, we're "ignorant and debased," dear; and the poor won't now find + friends + Even in free Columbia! So 'tis thus the ould boast ends! + "Stop 'em--for a year," says CHANDLER; "we'll be holding our Big Show, + An' poverty, an'--well, Cholera, are not wanted _thin_, you know." + + It's an artful move, my MARY, but, it stroikes me, a bit thin, + And it won't come home consolin', to "the poor ov Adam's kin." + Faix! they won't stop 'cabin passengers,' big-wigs, an' British Peerage, + But--_they don't want the poor devils that crowd over in the steerage_! + + So Oi'm sittin' on the stile, MARY, and there Oi'll loikely sthop, + For they don't require poor PADDY in their big new CHANDLER'S Shop. + Uncle SAM'S some punkins, MARY, but he's not a great green goose; + An' he's goin' to sthop a braggin' ov that latch-string always loose! + + * * * * * + +MIXED NOTIONS--NO. IV. EGYPT. + + _Two_ Well-Informed Men, _an_ Inquirer, _and an_ Average Man, _in + suburban morning train to London_. + +_First Well-Informed Man_ (_reading his paper_). Oh, I say, dash it, +this'll never do. Here's this young KHEDIVE of Egypt kicking up a shine, +and dismissing British Ministers. We can't have that, you know. + +_Inquirer._ What Ministers has he dismissed? + +_First W. I. M._ Why, British Ministers,--at least (_reading on_) I mean +Egyptian Ministers; that's to say, chaps whom we appointed. + +_Second W. I. M._ Come, come, we couldn't appoint Egyptian Ministers, +could we? + +_First W. I. M._ Oh, it comes to exactly the same thing; they're +appointed subject to our proviso (_consulting paper_), yes, subject to +our veto, and then this little whipper-snapper goes and gives them the +chuck. He'll jolly soon have to climb down off that. + +_Average Man._ Gently! The young chap's King, after all, isn't he? I +thought Kings might appoint or dismiss Ministers as they liked. + +_First W. I. M._ Oh, rot! The QUEEN can't appoint her own Ministers. We +all know that. They're appointed by the Prime Minister. Any fool knows +that. + +_Inquirer._ But who appoints the Prime Minister? + +_First W. I. M._ He appoints himself, and tells the QUEEN he's done it. +They all go and kiss hands and get their seals, or something of that +sort. + +_Inquirer._ Of course, of course. I forgot that. But how about these +Egyptian beggars? + +_First W. I. M._ The KHEDIVE'S had the cheek to dismiss the Ministry, and +shove another lot in. I see Lord CROMER has been to the Palace to +protest. + +_Inquirer._ Lord CROMER! Who's he? + +_First W. I. M._ My dear fellow, fancy not knowing that! Lord CROMER'S +our Ambassador at Cairo. + +_Second W. I. M._ Oh, nonsense. There are no ambassadors at Cairo. + +_First W. I. M._ Aren't there? Oh, indeed. Well, then perhaps you'll tell +me what Lord CROMER is? + +_Second W. I. M._ He's our Minister. That's what they call them. + +_Inquirer._ Was it him the KHEDIVE dismissed, then? + +_Second W. I. M._ (_laughing heartily_). No, no; we haven't got to that +yet. He dismissed his own Johnnies, of course; Egyptians. Lord CROMER'S +the English Minister. + +_Average Man._ No, he isn't. He's the English Agent. + +_Second W. I. M._ Oh, well, it's the same thing. + +_First W. I. M._ (_taking his revenge_). No, it isn't at all the same +thing; it's a very different thing. A Minister's only just short of an +Ambassador, and an Agent (_pauses_)--well, he's something quite +different. I don't think he gets as much pay for one thing, and of course +he can't live in the Embassy. + +_Inquirer._ But who does live in the Embassy, then? + +_First W. I. M._ It's unoccupied, of course. + +_Average Man._ No, it isn't. There isn't any Embassy at all. [_A pause._ + +_Inquirer_ (_returning to the charge_). But look here, who _is_ Lord +CROMER? I never heard of him before. I thought we'd got BARING or +ROTHSCHILD, or somebody representing us in Egypt. + +_First W. I. M._ (_with smiling superiority_). My dear chap, you're +thinking of Sir EVELYN BARING. He left Egypt long ago. + +_Inquirer._ Why did he leave? + +_First W. I. M._ Old GLADSTONE gave him the sack. + +_Second W. I. M._ No, he didn't. GLADSTONE wasn't in power when BARING +left Egypt. It was SALISBURY who dismissed him. + +_First W. I. M._ I bet you a sov. it was GLADSTONE. + +_Second W. I. M._ And I bet you a sov. it was SALISBURY. + +_Average Man._ You'll both lose. It was neither. + +_First W. I. M._, _Second W. I. M._ (_together_). Bosh! That's +impossible. + +_Average Man._ It's a fact. + +_First W. I. M._ (_triumphant_). Well, how do you account for his not +being there now? + +_Average Man._ He is there. + +_First W. I. M._ He isn't. Lord CROMER'S there. Here it is. (_Producing +Times._) "Lord CROMER has protested in person." So come! + +_Average Man._ All right. I know all that. Only, unfortunately, they're +one and the same person. + +_First W. I. M._, _Second W. I. M._ (_together_). Oh, I daresay; and you +think we're going to swallow that. You tell that to your Grandmother! +[_Both remain absolutely unconvinced._ + +_Inquirer._ But what's this about the French? What have they got to do +with it? + +_Second W. I. M._ Oh, they've got their fingers in every pie; always +making mischief. + +_First W. I. M._ Quite true; but they'll find we're going to sit tight in +spite of them, so the sooner they cart themselves and their blessed old +Pyramids out of the country the better. + +_Inquirer._ Why should they take the Pyramids? + +_First W. I. M._ Well, they built 'em, so I suppose they've got a right +to do what they like with them. + +_Inquirer._ Of course. [_Terminus._ + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: "H.M.S. 'TOKO.'" + +_Nurse Britannia._ "ALLOW ME TO INFORM YOUR HIGHNESS HERE COMES A BOX OF +SOLDIERS YOU _MUSTN'T_ PLAY WITH."] + + * * * * * + +_The Red Spider_, by BARING GOULD, is to be dramatised. What a chance +this would have been for the "Brothers WEBB," were they still in +stage-land. + + * * * * * + +SOLE SURVIVORS.--The uppers of a Tramp's highlows. + + * * * * * + +SHARP FIGHTING AT RANGOON.--We hope soon to hear that the Kachins are +Kachin' it hot. + + * * * * * + +ADVICE TO THOSE "UP A GUM TREE" (_by "Non Possum_").--Come down as +quickly as you can, and don't stick there. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: A LESSON IN FRENCH. + +_Fraeulein Schnips_ (_who does not devote as much attention to the Toilet +as she does to Study, addresses Master Edward who has been made to join +in his Sister's lessons during his holidays_). "EDFARD, FOT IS 'I VASH MY +HANDS' IN FRENCH?" + +_Master Edward_ (_sulkily_). "JE ME LAVE LES MAINS." + +_F. S._ "NOW DEN. 'I DO NOT VASH MY HANDS.' GU'EST-CE GUE C'EST GUE CA?" + +_Master Edward_ (_seizing his opportunity_). "EH BIEN, C'EST UNE HABITUDE +SALE, DONT VOUS DEVRIEZ AVOIR HONTE!"] + + * * * * * + +"SOME DAY!" + +(_Latest Egyptian Version of Milton Welling's popular Song._) + +Mr. BULL _to_ Miss EGYPT, _sings_:-- + + I know not when the day shall be, + I know not when we two shall part; + What farewell you will give to me, + Or will your words be sweet or tart? + It may not be till years have passed, + Till France grows calm, young ABBAS grey; + But I am pledged--so, love, at last, + Our hands, our hearts must part--_some day_! + Some day, some day, + Some day I shall leave you! + Love, I know not when or how, + (So I can but vaguely vow) + Only this, only this, + (Which I trust won't grieve you), + Only this--I _can't_ go now, I can't _go_ now, I can't go _Now_! + + I know not if 'tis far or near, + Some six months' hence, while we both live; + I know not who the blame shall bear, + Or who protest, or who forgive; + But when we part, some day, some day, + France, fairer grown, the truth may see, + And all those clouds be rolled away + That darken love 'twixt her and me. + Some day, some day, + Some day I must leave you! + Lawks! I know not when or how, + (Though the Powers kick up a row), + Only this, only this, + (Which I won't deceive you), + Only this--I can't go _now_, I shan't go _now_, I won't go _Now_! + + * * * * * + +IS SCIENCE PLAYED OUT? + + ["In a grain of butter you have 47,250,000 microbes. When you eat + a slice of bread-and-butter, you therefore must swallow as many + microbes as there are people in Europe."--"Science Notes" in + _Daily Chronicle_.] + + Charlotte, eating bread-and-butter, + Read this Note with horror utter, + And (assisted by the cutter) + Went on eating bread-and-butter! + Man will say--with due apology + To alarmed Bacteriology-- + Spite of menacing bacilli, + Man _must_ eat, friend, willy-nilly! + And where _shall_ he find due foison + If e'en bread-and-butter's poison? + Science told our amorous Misses + Death may be conveyed _in kisses_; + But it did not keep the nation + From promiscuous osculation. + Now it warneth the "Young Person" + (Whom GRANT ALLEN voids his curse on) + "Bread-and-butter Misses" even + In _their_ food may find death's leaven! + Never mind how this is made out! + Science--as a Bogey's--played out. + Spite all warnings it may utter, + Women _will_ have Bread-and-Butter! + + * * * * * + +OUT OF WORK. + + (_After reading "Outcast London" by the Daily Chronicle's Special + Commissioner at the East End._) + + Divines inform us that the Primal Curse + On poor humanity was Compulsory Work; + But Civilisation has devised a worse, + Which even Christian effort seems to shirk. + The Worker's woes love may assuage. Ah, yes! + But what shall help Compulsory Worklessness? + Not Faith--Hope--Charity even! All the Graces + Are helpless, without Wisdom in high places. + Though liberal alms relieve the kindly soul, + You can't cure destitution by a dole. + No, these are days when men must dare to try + What a Duke calls--ARGYLL the high-and-dry-- + "The Unseen Foundations of Society"; + And not, like wealthy big-wigs, be content + With smart attacks on "Theories of Rent." + Most theories of rent we know, the fact is + What we have doubts about, Duke, is--the practice! + When Rent in Power's hands becomes a rack + To torture Toil, bold wisdom will hark back + To the beginnings and the bases; ask + _What_ hides beneath that Economic mask + Which smiles unmoved by Sorrow's strain and stress + On half-starved Work and whole-starved Worklessness! + + * * * * * + +THE MAN FROM BLANKLEY'S. + +A STORY IN SCENES. + + SCENE IV.--Mrs. TIDMARSH'S _Drawing-room_; MR. TIDMARSH _has just + shaken hands with the latest arrival, and is still in the utmost + perplexity as to the best manner to adopt towards him. The other + Guests are conversing, with increased animation, at the further + end of the room._ + +_Lord Strathsporran_ (_to_ Mr. TIDMARSH). Afraid I'm most abominably +late--had some difficulty in getting here--such a fog, don't you know! +It's really uncommonly good of you to let me come and see your +antiquities like this. If I am not mistaken, you have got together a +collection of sepulchral objects worth coming any distance to study. [_He +glances round the room, in evident astonishment._ + +_Mr. Tid._ (_to himself_). Nice names to give my dinner-party! Impudent +young dog, this--Lord or no Lord! (_Aloud, with dignity._) +I--ha--hum--don't think that's quite the way to speak of them, Sir--my +Lord, I suppose I _ought_ to say! + +_Lord Strath._ Oh, I expect a most interesting evening, I assure you. + +_Mr. Tid._ Well, I--I daresay you'll have no cause to complain, so far as +_that_ goes, Lord--er--STRATH--you'll excuse me, but I haven't _quite_ +got accustomed to that title of yours. + +_Lord Strath._ (_smiling_). Not surprised at that--feel much the same +myself. + +_Mr. Tid._ Ha--well, to tell you the honest truth, I should have been +just as pleased if you had come here _without_ any handle of that sort to +your name. + +_Lord Strath._ Quite unnecessary to tell me so--and, you see, I couldn't +very well help myself. + +_Mr. Tid._ (_to himself_). BLANKLEY sends 'em _all_ out with titles--then +his _is_ bogus! (_Aloud._) Oh, I don't blame _you_, if it's the rule; +only--(_irritably_)--well, it makes me feel so devilish _awkward_, you +know! + +_Lord Strath._ Extremely sorry--don't know why it should. (_To himself._) +Queer little chap my host. Don't _look_ the Egyptologist exactly. And +where does he keep all his things? Downstairs, I suppose. (_He turns, and +recognises_ Miss SEATON.) MARJORY SEATON--here! and I've been trying to +hear something of her ever since I came back from Gizeh--this _is_ luck! +(_To her._) How do you do, Miss SEATON? No idea we should meet like this! + +_Miss Seaton_ (_in a low constrained voice_). Nor I, Mr. CLAYMORE. [Mr. +TIDMARSH _catches his Wife's eye, and crosses to her._ + +_Mrs. Tid._ (_sotto voce_). MONTAGUE, isn't it time you introduced me to +this Lord Whatever-it-is? As the person of highest rank here, he +certainly ought to take _me_ in! + +[Illustration: "I look upon him simply as a human being."] + +_Mr. Tid._ He's _done_ it, MARIA. He's no more a Lord than I am. Miss +SEATON knows him--I just heard her call him "Mr. CLAYTON," or some name +like that! + +_Mrs. Tid._ (_aghast._) So _this_ is the sort of person you _would_ go and +engage! He'll be found out, MONTAGUE, I can see Uncle edging up towards +him already. And anyhow, you know what his opinions are. A pretty scrape +you've got us into! Don't stand gaping--bring the man up to me this +minute--I must give him a hint to be careful. (_Lord S. is led up and +presented._) Sit down here, please, in this corner, Lord--(_with a +vicious emphasis_)--STRATH-_BLANKLEY_. (Lord. S. _obeys in mild +amazement._) Really, my husband and I were _hardly_ prepared for so +_aristocratic_ a guest--we are such plain humdrum people that a title--a +_real_ title like your _lordship's_--ahoo!--(_with an acid titter_)--is, +well--_rather_ overwhelming. I only hope you will be able to--er--sustain +it, or otherwise---- + +_Lord Strath._ (_lifting his eyebrows._) Am I to understand that you did +not expect me, after all? Because, if so,--I---- + +_Mrs. Tid._ Oh, yes, we _expected_ you, and of course, you will be +treated exactly the same as everybody else--except--I don't know if my +husband warned you about not touching the champagne? No? Oh, well, you +will drink _claret_ please, _not_ champagne. I daresay you prefer it. + +_Lord Strath._ Thank you, I should indeed--if you have any misgivings +about your champagne. + +_Mrs. Tid._ We must draw _some_ distinction between you and our regular +guests, as I'm sure you'll understand. + +_Lord Strath._ (_to himself._) Poor devils--if they only knew! But what +an unspeakable snob this woman is! I'd give something to get out of this +house--if it wasn't for MARJORY. I must have a word with her before +dinner--strikes me she's put out with me about something or other. + +_Mrs. Gilwattle_ (_to her Husband_). Did you ever see anything like the +way MARIA'S talking to that young nobleman, GABRIEL? as easy and composed +as if she'd kept such company all her life--it's a wonder how she can +_do_ it! + +_Uncle Gab._ Look at the finishing she's had! And after all, he's flesh +and blood like ourselves. She might introduce you and me to him, +though--it looks as if she was ashamed of her own relations. I shall go +up and introduce myself in a minute, and do what I can to make the young +fellow feel himself at home. (_Intercepting_ Lord S. _in the act of +moving towards_ Miss SEATON.) Excuse me, my Lord, but, as the uncle of +our worthy host and hostess, I should like the honour of shaking you by +the hand. (_He shakes hands._) My name's GILWATTLE, my Lord, and I ought +to tell you before I go any further that I've no superstitious reverence +for rank. Whether a man's a lord or a linen-draper, is exactly the same +to me--I look upon him dimply as a human being. + +_Lord Strath._ Quite so? he--ah--generally _is_, isn't he? + +_Uncle Gab._ Very handsome of your Lordship to admit it, I'm sure--but +what I _mean_ to say is, I regard any friend of my niece and nephew's as +a friend of mine--be he a Duke or be he a Dustman. + +_Lord Strath._ Unhappily for me, I'm neither a Duke nor a Dustman, +and--er--will you kindly excuse me? (_To himself as he passes on._) That +old gentleman makes me quite ill. Ah, MARJORY at last! (_To_ Miss +SEATON.) You've scarcely spoken a word to me yet! I hoped somehow you'd +look a little pleased to see me--after all this time! + +_Miss Seaton._ Pleased? I can hardly be that under the circumstances, Mr. +CLAYMORE! + +_Lord Strath._ Well, I only thought--we used to be such friends once. You +seem so changed! + +_Miss Seaton._ I am not the only one who is changed, I think. You seem to +have changed everything--even your name. What ought I to call you, by the +way, I didn't catch it exactly. "Lord SOMEBODY," wasn't it? + +_Lord Strath._ Never mind the confounded name, I have heard quite enough +of it already! It's not my fault if I'm what I am. _I_ never wanted to be +STRATHSPORRAN! + +_Miss Seaton._ Then you really are Lord STRATHSPORRAN! Oh, DOUGLAS, how +_could_ you? + +_Lord Strath._ I didn't. It was all that accident to my poor uncle and +cousin. And I'm about the poorest Peer in Scotland; if _that's_ any +excuse for me! + +_Miss Seaton._ How can it be any excuse for your coming here? Have you no +pride, DOUGLAS! + +_Lord Strath._ My goodness, what is there to be proud about? Why +_shouldn't_ I dine with anybody, provided----? + +_Miss Seaton._ Please don't excuse yourself--I can't bear it. You _know_ +it is unworthy of you to be here! + +_Lord Strath._ I don't indeed. I came here simply as a---- + +_Miss Seaton._ Don't trouble to tell me--I know _everything_. And--and +you ought to have _died_ rather than descend to this! + +_Lord Strath._ Ought I? Died, eh? That never occurred to me; and, after +all, MARJORY, _you_'re here! What's wrong? What have I let myself in for? + +_Miss Seaton_ (_bitterly_). What have you let yourself _out_ for, you +mean, don't you? + +_Lord Strath._ (_mystified_). _I_ don't know! I believe my man let me +out; and, anyway, what _does_ it matter now I've come? There's dinner +announced. MARJORY, before we're separated, just tell me what on earth +I've done to deserve this sort of thing! + +_Miss Seaton_ (_with a little gesture of despair_). Is it possible you +want to be told how _horribly_ you have disappointed me! + + [_The couples are forming to go down._ + +_Lord Strath._ (_stiffly_). I can only say the disappointment is mutual! + + [_He moves away, and awaits his hostess's directions._ + +_Little Gwennie_ (_stealing up to her Governess_). Oh, Miss SEATON, +_haven't_ I been good? I've kept quite quiet in a corner, and I haven't +said a single word to anybody ever since he came. But _what_ nice +Gentlemen BLANKLEY does send, doesn't he? + +_Mrs. Tid._ (_on_ Uncle GABRIEL'S _arm_). Oh, I quite forgot _you_, +Lord--ah--STRATHPORRIDGE. As you and Miss SEATON seem to be already +acquainted, perhaps you will have the goodness to take her down? You will +sit on my left--on the fireplace side--and--(_in a whisper_)--the less +you say the better! + +_Lord Strath._ I am _quite_ of your opinion. (_To himself._) Can't make +my hostess out, for the life of me--or MARJORY either, if it comes to +that! This is going to be a lively dinner-party, I can see! + + [_He gives his arm to_ Miss SEATON, _who accepts it without looking + at him; they go downstairs in constrained silence._ + +(_End of Scene IV._) + + * * * * * + +QUEER QUERIES.--CITY IMPROVEMENTS.--How much longer are we to wait for +the widening of the whole of Cheapside, the removal of the Post-Office +Buildings to a more convenient site, and the total and unconditional +sweeping away of Paternoster Row and the south side of Newgate Street? +These slight alterations are _imperatively required_. They will only cost +about ten millions, and what are ten millions to the Corporation? As I +purchased the five square yards on which my little tobacco-shop is built +in confident expectation of being bought out at a high figure, I consider +that any further delay in the matter involves something like a breach of +public faith. Why should not the Government help? They have lots of +money, and I haven't.--DISINTERESTED. + + * * * * * + +"FACTS AND FIGURES."--The business of the Labour Commissioner has to be +very delicately managed. There must be a good deal of "give and take" in +the work. However much "taking" there may be, there is sure to be plenty +of _Giffen_. + + * * * * * + +OUR BOOKING-OFFICE. + +[Illustration] + +There is something fascinating about the title of Mr. MCCULLAGH TORRENS' +book, published in one handsome volume, by BENTLEY. There should be a +good deal in _Twenty Years in Parliament_, more so when the epoch covers +recollections of PALMERSTON in his green old age, Mr. GLADSTONE in his +prime, BRIGHT in his political prize-fighting trim, COBDEN, TOM DUNCAN, +MONCKTON MILNES, JOHN STUART MILL, ISAAC BUTT, and a host of other ghosts +that have flitted off the scene. My Baronite turned to the book with +gusto, read it through with patience, and left it with disappointment. +Mr. TORRENS knew all these men personally; in fact, he was indispensable +to them. One marvels to find, from hints dropped and assertions boldly +made, how much they were severally indebted to him for counsel and +inspiration through the twenty years the narrative vaguely covers. The +figures of the men named loom large in history; but they were all +stuffed. The wires were pulled by plain unappreciated MCCULLAGH TORRENS. +The weight of the responsibility has had the effect of somewhat muddling +the narrative, and, from time to time, the diligent reader does not know +exactly where he is. He begins with some episode in which DIZZY, with arm +affectionately linked with that of MCCULLAGH TORRENS, is walking along +Pall Mall, when a passing Bishop obsequiously takes off his hat and bows. +MCCULLAGH modestly says this obeisance was paid to DIZZY, but _we_ know +very well it was to MCCULLAGH. Then, before we know where we are, we are +in the middle of an account of the Bulgarian atrocities, the +Russo-Turkish war, what Count BEUST said to MCCULLAGH, and how, in debate +on the Vote of Six Millions, "a Right Hon. friend who sat next to me +urged me to add a few words to what had been better said by others in +this sense." Better said! Oh, MCCULLAGH! Oh, TORRENS! There is an ancient +story of an old gentleman who had a treasured anecdote connected with the +going off of a gun. When he could not drag it in otherwise, he was wont +to furtively lift his foot and kick the table. "Hallo, what's that?" he +cried. "Sounds like a gun; that reminds me"--and then the story. Thus Mr. +TORRENS drags in successive Parliamentary episodes through twenty +years--the Disestablishment of the Church, the Charity Commission, State +Aid to Emigrants, School Board for London, Extradition, Artisans' +Dwellings; gives a not very clear summary of events leading up to each, +and then treats the entranced reader to the heads of the speech he +delivered. The book would have been more accurately entitled had it been +called _Twenty Years of McCullagh Torrens_, and old Members of the House +of Commons will agree that this is a little too much. + +BARON DE BOOK-WORMS & CO. + + * * * * * + +The Three. + + Some hold it a terrible fault of omission + That Parsons sit not on the Poor-Law Commission. + Alas! Hope would smile, but she finds it a rarity + For "Faith" not to hamper the freedom of Charity. + The world will look bright when we find in high places + A perfect accord 'twixt the Three Christian Graces! + + * * * * * + +THE FIRST BAL MASQUE OF THE SEASON.--Big success. Greater crowd there +than when these entertainments came to an end at the beginning of last +year. All sorts of disguises were permitted, but it is said that two +_viveurs_ who came late, disguised in liquor, were denied entrance. The +Snow Man found it very hot, and melted. Prizes were to be given away. But +there was one prize, an elegant lady, closely masked and hooded, whose +identity remained a puzzle to everybody. At last "she gave herself away." +The happy recipient congratulated himself on winning the prize. + + * * * * * + +NEXT, PLEASE!--Suggested subject for the next Newspaper Controversy:--"Is +ROBERT BUCHANAN played out?" + + * * * * * + +"RENT REDUCTIONS" can generally be satisfactorily made _pro tem._ with a +needle and thread. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: "THE PLAY'S THE THING!" + +"COULD I HAVE A FORTNIGHT'S LEAVE, SIR?" "WHAT FOR, PRAY?" "URGENT +PRIVATE THEATRICALS!"] + + * * * * * + +THE FISHERMAN AND THE GENIUS. + +(_Fragmentary and Unfinished Extracts from the Arabian Nights, Up to +Date._) + +"Sir," said SHEEVERREADY, "how pleasant soever these stories may be that +I have told your Majesty hitherto, they do not come near that of the +Fisherman and the Genius." + + * * * + +There was an ancient, but hale and opulent Fisherman, who had fished with +much success for many a day in troubled waters. This practice of his +involved him, of course, in extremely arduous labours, but resulted, +generally, in securing him a fair share of hard-earned spoil, to the +great envy of other fishermen of less hardihood and enterprise. He +imposed it upon himself, however, as a law, not to cast his nets save +during a certain season--or session, as he called it--which usually +arrived but once a year. + +His fortune, for some fishing seasons past, had been of a variable, and +not too satisfactory sort. It is _not_ encouraging, after casting one's +nets during a prolonged spell of rough weather, and confidently +anticipating a good draught of fish, to perceive that, instead of fish, +there is nothing in one's net save such unsought spoil as the carcase of +an Egyptian ass, a basket-full of gravel and slime of no substantial +utility, or quantities of stones and mud, fit for nothing but for use as +missiles among quarrelsome boys. + +"O Fortune," cried he; "be not so persistently perverse, nor persecute an +ancient fisherman who groweth a-weary of tumultuous billows, turbid +floods, broken and filth-obstructed nets, and unprofitable hauls!" + + * * * + +Now, behold, it was told to this Fisherman by a certain Grand Old Voice, +vague but sonorous, and voluble exceedingly, that if he would only make a +complete change in his nets, and in the fashion of his fishing, +miraculous draughts would become as common as minnows in a brook. This +Voice visited our Fisherman often in his visions. And, behold, the +Fisherman essayed the schemes suggested by the Voice. Not at first, it +must be admitted, with supreme success, or entire satisfaction to the +Fisherman himself. The Voice, however, attributed this qualified fortune +to the Fisherman's lack of perfect trust, and of entire reform in his +fashion of fishing. "Behold," cried the Voice, vibrating vehemently, "you +have allowed yourself to be diverted by the sinister councils of +antiquated obscurantists from implicit faith in my programmes and +prescriptions!" + +"And what, in brief and plain language, _are_ these latter?" inquired the +anxious but puzzled Fisherman. + +"Nay," answered the Voice, sardonically; "that were to inquire too +nicely. But place your fortunes absolutely in my charge; follow my lead +with unquestioning loyalty, and verily you shall see great results." + + * * * + +The Fisherman, much impressed with these assurances, cast his nets once +more in the new fashion; and when he thought it was time, he drew them in +as formerly, with great difficulty. But, instead of fish, found nothing +in them but a vessel of brass, which, by the weight, seemed to be full of +something; and he observed that it was shut up with singular tightness, +and sealed up with a thick coating of official-looking wax. And the Seal +was Green, green as the abounding grass, or the scarce four-leaved +shamrock of that amazing Isle of Emeralds, which some deem as much matter +of myth as SINDBAD'S Valley of Diamonds. + + * * * + +The Fisherman examined the vessel on all sides, and shook it to see if +what was in it made any noise, but heard nothing. This circumstance, with +the impression of the seal upon the cover (which seemed to represent two +Hearts linked in Union by some mystic abracadabra of unknown words) made +him think there was something precious--or at least peculiar--in it. To +try this, he opened it. He presently turned the mouth downward, but +nothing came out, which surprised him extremely. He set it before him, +and while he looked upon it attentively, there arose from it a very thick +smoke, which obliged him to retire two or three paces from it. + +The smoke ascended to the clouds, and, extending itself along the sea and +upon the shore, formed a great mist, which we may well imagine did +mightily astonish the Fisherman. When the smoke was all out of the +vessel, it slowly took shape, and became a solid-seeming body, of which +there was formed a Genius twice as high and broad as any giant with which +the Fisherman had been aforetime familiar. At the sight of a monster of +such unsizeable bulk, and from which issued, in as yet unintelligible +accents, a Voice which seemed strangely familiar to his ears, the +Fisherman----Here SHEEVERREADY perceiving day, broke off her story--for +the time. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: THE FISHERMAN AND THE GENIUS. + +(_Vide "Arabian Nights."_)] + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: VERY CONSIDERATE. + +_Mr. Phunkie._ "DEAW ME!--NEW RAILS, I DECLARE! NOW IF THERE IS A THING +WHICH IS ANNOYING TO THE AGRICULTURIST, IN THE PRESENT STATE OF +DEPRESSION, IT IS FOR PEOPLE TO GO RECKLESSLY SMASHING THINGS OF THAT +SORT. I SHALL CERTAINLY PUT MYSELF TO THE INCONVENIENCE OF GOING +_ROUND_--AHEM!--AS AN EXAMPLE!"] + + * * * * * + +"THE TICKET-OF-LEAVE MAN" AT CAMBRIDGE. + +[Illustration] + +Well done, the A. D. C.! Their performance of TOM TAYLOR'S romantic, +pathetic, melodramatic, crib-cracking, head- (though not always side-) +splitting play, was an admirable one, carefully rehearsed, well +stage-managed, and played with a fine feeling for the capital situations +in which the piece abounds. Especially good was Mr. BROMLEY-DAVENPORT'S +_Jem Dalton_, a finished and truculent presentment of which any young +amateur and many an old professional might be proud. _Hawkshaw_ (Mr. +DICKINSON), too, was excellent, and the _Bob Brierly_ of Mr. THORNTON, +the _Sam Willoughby_ of Mr. THEOBALD, the _Green Jones_ of Mr. NORMAN, +and the _Maltby_ of Mr. MARTINEAU, were all good in their several ways. +As for the ladies--but who does not know the A. D. C. ladies, those +visions of female loveliness, with big hands bass voices, and projecting +knees? Mr. AGAR, whose waist cannot have really measured more than twenty +inches round, was refined and charming as _Emily St. Evremond_, while Mr. +CORNISH, though taller than most of his male associates, played _May +Edwards_ quietly, and sympathetically. _Mrs. Willoughby_, the stage +realisation of ARTHUR SKETCHLEY'S _Mrs. Brown_, had full justice rendered +to her garrulous good-nature by Mr. STONE. But enough. It was a good +performance. Memories came floating back of a notable performance of this +same play by the A. D. C. far back in the remote ages between '70 and +'80. The _Bob Brierly_ of those days has been Under-Secretary of State +for India, _Hawkshaw_, the Detective, occupies a thorny throne as +Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland, while _Jem Dalton_ has become the Burglar at +the Court Theatre--a very natural transition. Very great was Mr. +BROOKFIELD fifteen years ago as the Cracksman, but great, also, was Mr. +BROMLEY-DAVENPORT last week. _Dixi!_ + + * * * * * + +DEARTH OF DANCING-MEN. + +My JULIA has been unusually fortunate this evening. She has only had to +sit out thirteen dances, and has already been given half a polka by Mr. +LAYSIBOHNS, who, however, seemed too tired to finish it. Her view is, +that "half a loafer is better than no dance." + +[Illustration] + +In order to get men, we have been obliged to invite the gentlemanly +crossing-sweeper at the end of our road, two hawkers who sell blocks of +wood in the street, a respectable coal-heaver, and our green-grocer's +assistant. They have each had half-a-dozen dancing lessons (at our +expense), and are to be paid a guinea a-piece, on condition that they +dance at least six dances before going down to supper. + +Our boy BOB, who is always trying to be funny, says he is afraid engaging +these people will turn put a "valse step." + +It certainly is rather slow for the Girls who have not had a partner all +the evening. Still, I did _not_ expect them to bring pencils and paper +with them, and play games of "consequences" in the billiard-room. + +Since Gentlemen have taken to sharing a dance among several Ladies, they +have become very conceited. My EMILY is congratulating herself that she +has secured one undivided sixteenth part of the next Lancers with that +dear Mr. WYNN INGWAYS. + +A good part of Mr. MASHER'S income is, it is said, derived from the fact +that Mothers, sooner than see their Girls sit idle all the evening, are +willing to allow him a handsome commission on suitable introductions. + +BOB has asked JULIA a riddle, which is--"What is the difference between a +game of whist and a ball-room?" The answer seems to be, that in whist you +cut for partners, but, in a ball-room, possible partners cut you. + +It is quite true that we have decided to emigrate to North-West Colorado, +as my Girls say they will have far more chance of partners in a country +where the "surplus population" consists entirely of males. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: TROP DE ZELE. + +_Hostess._ "WHY ARE SOME OF THE LIQUEUR GLASSES _EMPTY_, KATHLEEN?" + +_The New Parlour Maid._ "IF YOU PLEASE, MY LADY, THEY'RE FOR THIM AS +DON'T TAKE ANY LIQUEUR!"] + + * * * * * + +MARGARINA. + +A BACK-STREET BALLAD. + +AIR--"_Margarita._" + + I passed along a dim back-street, Margarina! + In search of something good to eat, Margarina! + O pallid tripe! O "faggots" queer! + Was ever such strange human cheer? + And O my heart, I loathed thee so, + There on show, there on show, Margarina! + + I saw thee in a sallow dab, Margarina! + Upon the grubby marble slab, Margarina! + O sickening stodge! O greasy shine! + O "Dairy Produce" miscalled "Fine"! + O haunt of all blue-flies that blow, + There on show, there on show, Margarina! + + I fled along that gloomy street, Margarina! + Disgusted, sickened, sad, dead-beat, Margarina! + Yet still I see that dingy slab, + That oleaginous pale, pale dab. + And thou art still on sale I know, + Where soot-flakes all, and blue-flies blow, Margarina! + + But every night at my snug tea, Margarina! + Over my toast I muse on thee, Margarina! + I sniff that smell, I see that dab, + That greasy, grimy, marble slab. + And thou art still the same I know, + The slum's strange love, the slum's strange love. + The poor man's "Butter," there on show! Margarina! + + * * * * * + +MRS. RAM, who had been listening to a conversation among golf-players, +and now flatters herself on knowing something about the game, +observed--"I suppose, in the Season, instead of Five-o'clock Teas, the +fashion at Hurlingham and those places will be to have Golf Teas." She +didn't know that it was spelt 'Tees.' + + * * * * * + +ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT. + +EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M. P. + +_House of Commons, Tuesday, Jan. 31st._--Back again in old place, with +SPEAKER in Chair, Mace on table, and Serjeant-at-Arms on guard. Nothing +changed except the Government. Some old familiar faces gone; others +replace them. Same old bustle, hearty greeting, and effusive +hand-shaking. + +"There's only one thing," says ERSKINE, of Cardross, "that equals the +hilarity of the opening of a New Session, and that is the joy with which +the boys go off on the day of Prorogation." + +ERSKINE been in the Chair by the cross-benches some years now. Naturally +growing philosophical; insensibly cultivates habit of sententious speech. + +"Wonder you can be so garrulous, TOBY," he says, "considering the number +of Speeches you hear in a Session. We take in eloquence at the pores, and +I for one have no tendency toward exudation." + +"Ah," I said, "perhaps that's the lack of exercise. Dear old GOSSET! he +was better off in that respect. Remember how he used to waltz up and down +between doorway and table with BRADLAUGH? A heavy partner, too, +especially taken after dinner. But, on score of health, not by any means +an undesirable variation on sedentary life." + +"Well, well," said ERSKINE, whose forbears were out in '45, "we must hope +for the best." And the gallant Scot's hand involuntarily sought the hilt +of his sword as his keen eye roved over the Clan gathered below the +Gangway. + +A little odd at first to see Mr. G. on the Bench to the right of SPEAKER, +Prince ARTHUR facing him on Opposition Bench. They seem to assume altered +position quite naturally. Mr. G. looks pretty much as he has done any +time these two years back. Eager, straight-backed, bright-eyed, smiling +gaily in response to cheer that greets him from at present undivided +majority. + +"Pretty well, thank you, TOBY. Only one thing the matter with me, and +that, you know, doesn't mend as the years pass. Looking over MCCULLAGH +TORRENS' book the other day, I noted what DIZZY said when that genial +statesman, the former Member for Finsbury, inquired after the health of +Lady BEACONSFIELD. 'They tell me she is better, but you know what better +is at 83.' I'm as well as can be expected going o' 84. I must admit it's +pretty well. I'll undertake to walk a mile, run a mile, eat a meal, and +make a speech with any fellow ten years my junior." + +Certainly no one on Treasury Bench exceeds Mr. G. in vivacity or +overflowing energy. SQUIRE OF MALWOOD looks very fit, but there's a +massivity about his mirthful mood that becomes a Chancellor of the +Exchequer with a contingent surplus. Is much comforted by consciousness +that, whilst SAGE OF QUEEN ANNE'S GATE views composition of Ministry with +mixed feelings, and will not commit himself to promise of fealty till he +is in possession of full details of their policy, he unreservedly +approves the SQUIRE. + +On other side, Her Majesty's late Ministers in state of almost boisterous +hilarity. Evidently inclined to regard deposition as a joke. Prince +ARTHUR beaming with delight. Something curiously like a smile wreathes +stolid countenance of Sir JAMES FERGUSSON. + +"It's their turn now," says Prince ARTHUR, gleefully rubbing his hands, +"and I wish them joy of it. As for me, I shall live my Saturday to Monday +in peace, and shall go to the Opera every Wednesday night in the Season." + +"You can go oftener if you like," said ELLIS ASHMEAD-BARTLETT (Knight). +"You may depend on my remaining here. I've thought of a good many things +to say during the last six years." + +"Ha," said Prince ARTHUR, thoughtfully, "then perhaps I may absent myself +through portions of other nights of the week." + +_Business done._--Address moved. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: PARLIAMENTARY SHOOTING BEGINS, JANUARY 31.] + + * * * * * + +HIS LITTLE GAME AT THE COMEDY. + +[Illustration: Opening the Case.] + +[Illustration: Briscoe, having lost one suit, gains another.] + +Mr. Lestocq's amusing farce, _The Sportsman_, now being played at the +Comedy Theatre, must inevitably recall to the experienced play-goer the +plot and situations of _The Serious Family_ and _The Colonel_, _Truth_, +_The Candidate_, _Artful Cards_, and it may be some others of the same +extensive dramatic family. In this piece the husband, under pretence of +joining a shooting-party, is accustomed to absent himself from home, in +order to indulge his propensity for gambling, and he invariably brings +home to his wife the hares and rabbits he has shot. This is "his little +game." Just so did the husband in _The Serious Family_, when _Aminadab +Sleek_ remarks that he has seen something very like them at a +neighbouring poulterer's. In the Second Act the police make a raid on the +gambling Club, and the husband escapes in any coat he can lay hold of, +following the example of the unfortunate hero of _Artful Cards_, only +that the situation at the end of _that_ Second Act was far stronger in +that play than it is in _The Sportsman_. In _Artful Cards_ the +unfortunate hero escaped, carrying a trombone, which turned up in +evidence against him when he was inventing plausible explanations to his +wife. In fact, _The Sportsman_ is concocted out of excellent old material +cleverly worked up, with only one new point in it, to which, as it has +escaped the eye of the English adapter, it would be useless to draw his +attention; yet, had he seen it, he might therefrom have developed a +really original sequence of perplexing situations. The dialogue is not +particularly brilliant; jerky, not crisp. But such is the "go" of the +principals, and especially of Mr. HAWTREY, who is the life and soul of +the farce, that the laughter is hearty and continuous. + + * * * * * + +PATRIOTISM AT THE LAW COURTS. + +(_As we expect to see it._) + + ["THE INNS OF COURT AND THE VOLUNTEERS.--A Meeting was held + yesterday afternoon in the Banqueting Hall of Lincoln's Inn for + the purpose of taking such steps as might be deemed necessary to + revive the former numerical strength of the Inns of Court Corps of + Volunteers, now sadly below its proper strength."--_Daily Paper._] + +[Illustration] + +Frequent Meetings in the Banqueting Hall will soon rectify the "reduced +condition," and, after a few gatherings, a gallant and learned Q. C. will +don his ancient tunic, and present himself at Head Quarters. + + * * * * * + +"THE ETERNAL FEMININE!" + +(_By a candid--if capricious--Conjugator._) + +_Amo, amas_--All love a lass! + +_Amamus, amatis_--Churls cry, _jam satis_! + +_Amat, amant_--But that's masculine cant! + +_Amem, ames_--We wish to please. + +_Amemus, ametis_--'Cos love so sweet is. + +_Amet, ament_--Man's never content! + +_Amavissem_--We yearn to kiss 'em. + +_Amavisses_--They accept our kisses. + +_Ama, amato_--Lips like a tomato. + +_Amate, amanto_--Move many a canto. + +_Amare, amavisse_--We Marry sweet Missy. + +_Amans, amaturus_--Her charms to secure us. + +_Amandum, amandi_--As wives they come handy. + +_Amando, amandum_--But we don't understand 'em. + +_Amandum, amando_--Their novels are grand, oh! + +_Amatum, amatu_--Cries male critic, "I'll slate you!" + +_Amor, amaris, amatur_--Woman goes like thunder when a starter! + +_Amamur, amamini, amantur_--And she swears she'll lick us in a canter! + +_Amemur, amemini, amentur_--And 'twill take us all our time to prevent +her! + + * * * * * + +THE NEWEST HUMOUR. + + ["The atmospheric envelope of the Globe is at present in a + baccilophil humour."--_Professor_ PETTENKOFER _on Microbes, quoted + by_ JAMES PAYN.] + +[Illustration] + + Is that the humour o 't, O learned Nym? + Well, these be days of mad and morbid whim, + When would-be wits strain wildly at a joke + As an o'erladen ox against the yoke. + But "a baccilophil humour"!--in the air! + Science does love the unlearned soul to scare, + But what does this thing mean? With fear to fill us? + Can aught thus love and cherish the Bacillus? + O "atmospheric envelope" _thy_ humour + Is worse than--Blank's--if we may trust this rumour. + Since microbe "humour" fills both air and earth, + Farewell to honest fun and wholesome mirth! + Adieu to genial DICKENS, gentle HOOD! + Hail to the peddling pessimistic brood + Whose "nimini-pimimi" mouths, too small by half + To stretch themselves to a Homeric laugh, + Mince, in a mirror, to the "Paphian Mimp!" + MOMUS is dead, and e'en that tricksy imp + Preposterous _Puck_ hath too much native grit + To take the taste of OSRICK turned a wit. + Humour baccilophil, microbic merriment, + Might suit him better. He will try the experiment. + His mirth's a smirk and not a paroxysm; + "Papa, potatoes, poultry, prunes and prism" + Do not disturb the "plie" of his prim lips, + Neither do cynic quirks and querulous quips. + Mirth would guffaw--when hearts and mouths were bigger, + OSRICK would shrink from aught beyond a snigger, + Such as is stirred by screeds of far-fetched whim. + Ay! that's the humour o't, sententious Nym. + Let's hail a dying century's latest birth,-- + The Newest Humour--purged from taint of Mirth! + + * * * * * + +MRS. RAM'S practical knowledge of French is not marvellous. She was +discussing the question as to whether the French Working-classes cared +for malt liquor as brewed in England. The excellent Lady observed--"I +don't think so, because, if I remember rightly, when I was in Paris, I +was told always to give the coachman money for drink, and this they +called 'poor beer.' So they couldn't care for 'strong ale,' such as +ours." + + * * * * * + +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 +104, February 4, 1893, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH *** + +***** This file should be named 20538.txt or 20538.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/0/5/3/20538/ + +Produced by Matt Whittaker, Juliet Sutherland and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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