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+The Project Gutenberg eBook, Punch, or the London Charivari Volume 98,
+January 4, 1890, by Various, Edited by Francis Burnand
+
+
+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 98, January 4, 1890
+
+
+Author: Various
+
+Editor: Francis Burnand
+
+Release Date: June 3, 2008 [eBook #25685]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI
+VOLUME 98, JANUARY 4, 1890***
+
+
+E-text prepared by Malcolm Farmer, V. L. Simpson, and the Project
+Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team (https://www.pgdp.net)
+
+
+
+Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
+ file which includes the original illustrations.
+ See 25685-h.htm or 25685-h.zip:
+ (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/5/6/8/25685/25685-h/25685-h.htm)
+ or
+ (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/5/6/8/25685/25685-h.zip)
+
+
+
+
+
+PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI
+
+VOL. 98
+
+JANUARY 4, 1890
+
+[Illustration: PUNCH
+VOL 98]
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+London:
+Published at the Office, 85, Fleet Street,
+and Sold by All Booksellers.
+1890.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+[Illustration: Preface]
+
+It was a Midsummer Night, and Mr. PUNCH in his _sanctum_ dreamed a
+Dream! To adapt the Laureate's lay:--
+
+ He read, before his eyelids dropt their shade,
+ The _Lusiads_ of CAMOENS, long ago
+ Sung by the Lusitanian bard, who made
+ Great GAMA'S glories glow.
+
+It was the wondrous tale of STANLEY which had turned the Sage's
+attention to the pages of the great Epic of Commerce.
+
+He had read:--
+
+ "Afric behold! alas, what altered view!
+ Her lands uncultured, and her sons untrue;
+ Ungraced with all that sweetens human life,
+ Savage and fierce, they roam in brutal strife;
+ Eager they grasp the gifts which culture yields,
+ Yet naked roam their own neglected fields."
+
+And though even Africa has considerably changed since the year of grace
+1497, when "daring GAMA" went "incessant labouring round the stormy
+Cape," Mr. PUNCH thought of that great gloom-shrouded Equatorial Forest
+and its secular savage dwarf-denizens, and mused how much there was yet
+for our modern GAMAS to do in the Dark Continent.
+
+Mr. PUNCH found himself in the lovely "Isle of Venus," the delicious
+floral Paradise which the Queen of Love, "the guardian goddess of the
+Lusian race," created "amid the bosom of the watery waste," as "a place
+of glad repast and sweet repose," for the tired home-returning GAMA and
+his companions.
+
+"Of 'glad repast,'" said a familiar voice, "there is plenty and to
+spare; but for the 'sweet repose,' 'tis not to be found in this 'Isle of
+Banqueting.'"
+
+"Mr. STANLEY, I presume?" said the Sage.
+
+"You _cannot_ presume," rejoined H. M. neatly. "But some of these
+gregarious dinner-givers _do_, and sometimes,--yes, sometimes I'm afraid
+I let them see that I'm aware of it."
+
+"As fame-preoccupied, country-loving GAMA, wearied of the 'feasts,
+interludes, and chivalrous entertainments,' with which 'the taste of
+that age demonstrated the joy of Portugal,' might perchance have snubbed
+some too importunate Don. 'The compliments of the Court and the shouts
+of the streets were irksome to him,' says the chronicle."
+
+"SALISBURY is not quite a Prince HENRY apparently," remarked the modern
+GAMA. "He and his father JOHN did not find the discoveries and
+acquisitions of their heroic compatriot 'embarrassing.' 'The arts and
+valour of the Portuguese had now made a great impression on the minds of
+the Africans. The King of CONGO, a dominion of great extent, sent the
+sons of some of his principal officers to be instructed in arts and
+religion.' This was four hundred years ago! And now the Portuguese can
+be safely snubbed and sat upon, even by a SALISBURY! But if your prudent
+Premier doesn't 'stiffen his back' a bit, with regard to the tougher and
+tentative Teuton, 'the arts and valour' of the Britishers will not make
+as great an impression on the minds of the Africans as your ill-used
+East African Company could desire."
+
+"Don't be _too_ downhearted, HENRY," smiled the Sage. "Much dining-out
+doth breed dyspepsia, and atrabilious views are apt to be a _leetle_
+lop-sided."
+
+"Right, _Mr. Punch!_" said a musical but somewhat mournful voice, that
+of the great but ill-starred LUIS DE CAMOENS himself. "I wrote much of
+my _Lusiadas_ in Africa.
+
+ "'One hand the pen, and one the sword employed.'
+
+"_My_ reward was banishment, imprisonment, poverty, neglect, and a
+miserable death in an almshouse. 'Soon after, however,' says the record,
+'many epitaphs honoured his memory: the greatness of his merit was
+universally confessed, and his _Lusiad_ was translated into various
+languages.' 'The whirligig of time brings its revenges,' as your own
+illustrious Singer saith. How think you myself and my friend VASCO de
+GAMA here look upon the fallen state of our beloved native land? In vain
+he ventured for her. In vain I warningly sang:--
+
+ "'Chill'd by my nation's cold neglect, thy fires
+ Glow bold no more, and all thy rage expires.
+ Shall haughty Gaul or sterner Albion boast
+ That all the Lusian fame in thee is lost!'"
+
+Mr. PUNCH bowed low to the illustrious Poet and the indomitable
+Explorer. "Greatness," said he, courteously, "claims reverence, and
+misfortune respect. Your countrymen, Gentlemen, have been rather angry
+with me of late. But 'sterner Albion' may be proud indeed if she
+produces such men as GAMA to perform heroic deeds, and such poets as
+CAMOENS to sing them." The stately Shades saluted. "I wonder," said
+GAMA, "who will be the Laureate of the later Ulysses, and which of your
+singers will write the _Epic of Africa?_"
+
+"I fear," said Mr. PUNCH, "that at present they are too busy smiting the
+Socialistic big drum, or tickling their sonorous native tongue into
+tinkling triolets. In this Island of Venus----"
+
+"I beg pardon," interrupted STANLEY, with a sardonic smile. "This Island
+of _Menus_, you mean, Mr. PUNCH!"
+
+Mr. PUNCH looked around. The Acidalian roses and myrtles, the purple
+lotos and the snowy thorn, the yellow pod-flowers and the waving palms,
+the vermeil apples and the primrosed banks, of CAMOENS' somewhat
+zone-confounding vision, had indeed vanished, and in their stead seemed
+to wave snowy _serviettes_, to flow champagne-streams, to glitter
+goblets, and to glow orchid-laden _épergnes_.
+
+"Humph!" said the Sage. "The prose of the _Restaurateur_--which by the
+way sounds as if I were alluding to the literature of the
+Restauration,--hath insensibly superseded the poesy of the peerless
+Portuguese. Well, Gentlemen, in vain may 'sterner Albion' glory in the
+profusion of wealth and the pomp of 'glad repast,' unless also she
+breeds heroes to adventure and poets to celebrate. As you sang, my
+CAMOENS--
+
+ "'The King or hero to the Muse unjust,
+ Sinks as the nameless slave, extinct in dust.'
+
+"For the present, STANLEY'S arm and Mr. PUNCH'S pen suffice to save the
+State from such abasement. But let our timid Premiers and our
+temporising Press remember the glories of GAMA and CAMOENS, and the fate
+of ungrateful and indolent Lusitania!"
+
+"The Pen of Mr. PUNCH!" cried CAMOENS. "Ah, long have the valiant VASCO
+and myself desired to peruse its sparkling and patriotic outpourings.".
+
+"And you, my STANLEY," proceeded Mr. PUNCH, "said to the banqueting
+Fishmongers, 'I am an omnivorous reader whenever an opportunity presents
+itself.' It presents itself here and now. Take, Illustrious Trio, the
+greatest gift that even PUNCH can bestow upon you, to wit his
+
+"Ninety-Eighth Volume!"
+
+[Illustration]
+
+ * * * * *
+
+[Illustration]
+
+ * * * * *
+
+JOURNAL OF A ROLLING STONE.
+
+FOURTH ENTRY.
+
+Have for a considerable time past been "eating dinners," preparatory to
+being "called" to the Bar. Understand now what people mean when they
+talk of a "_Digest_ of the Law."
+
+Find myself (on dining for the first time this Term) in a mess with a
+highly-intelligent native of India, another man up from Oxford, and an
+African law-student. Latter black and curly, but good-natured. Says
+there is a great demand for English-made barristers on the Gambia, and
+he's going to supply the demand.
+
+Have wild and momentary idea of going to the Gambia myself.
+
+"Why," I ask this enterprising negro, "why don't English
+barristers--white ones, I mean--go and practise there?" Feel that
+reference to colour is not felicitous; still, difficult to express the
+idea otherwise.
+
+African doesn't mind. Shows all his teeth in a broad grin, and says,
+"Inglis men die, die like flies, on the Gambia."
+
+Curious to see the Hindoo law-student looking contemptuously at African
+ditto. Hindoo a shrewd fellow. Talks English perfectly. Rather given to
+gesticulate. Waves his arms, and incidentally knocks over a bottle of
+the claret--at twelve shillings a dozen--which the Inn kindly supplies
+to wash down the mutton and baked potatoes at our two-shilling meal.
+Hindoo laughs. Tells me, confidentially, that he has practised as a
+"Vakeel" (whatever that is) in some small country town in Bengal. Why
+has he come over here? Oh, to be called. Will get more work and more
+pay, when a full-fledged barrister. Gather that there are rival
+"Vakeels" in Bengal whom he wants to cut out. He intends "cutting
+out"--to India--directly he _is_ called.
+
+Oxford man tells me in a whisper that "he believes he's a Baboo."
+Indeed! Don't feel much wiser for the information.
+
+African getting jealous of Baboo's fluent talk. Rather a sportive negro,
+it appears. Says he goes to theatre nearly every night. Has a regular
+and rather festive programme for each day.
+
+"Lecture, morning," he says; "afternoon, walk in Park, sometimes ride.
+Night, theatre or music-hall." He grins like an amiable gargoyle. In his
+own country African law-student must be quite a lady-killer--a sort of
+Gambia masher.
+
+Incidentally mention to Hindoo difficulty of law of Real Property,
+especially "Rule in SHELLEY'S Case."
+
+It seems Hindoo understands matter perfectly. Begins to explain the
+"Rule in SHELLEY'S Case." Does it by aid of two salt-cellars (to
+represent the parties) and a few knives (to represent collateral
+relatives).
+
+African masher more jealous. Laughs at Baboo's explanation. He and Baboo
+exchange glances of hatred. African, who is carving, brandishes knife.
+Is he going to plunge it into heart of Baboo just as he's got through
+his explanation? Looks like it, as the shilling claret seems to have got
+into place where we may suppose African's brain to be. However, dinner
+ends without a catastrophe.
+
+After attending the usual amount of legal lectures, the "Final" Exam.
+approaches.
+
+Get through the papers pretty well. Thank goodness, no question asked so
+far about that "Rule in SHELLEY'S Case," which is my "_Pons Asinorum_!"
+It's a "rule" to which I take great exception.
+
+There's a "_Vivâ Voce_" to come, however. Hate _vivâ voce._ Two
+examiners sit at end of Hall--students called up in batches of
+half-a-dozen at a time. Very nervous work. Find, when my turn comes,
+that the intelligent Baboo is in the same lot! Appears to like the
+position. From his manner I should judge that he'd been doing nothing
+all his life but being examined by fifties in a cave, like this.
+
+Examiner who tackles me has an eye-glass.
+
+"Now, Mr. JOYNSON," he remarks, putting it up to survey me better, "if
+you were a trustee, &c., &c., _what would you do?_"
+
+Flattered at the supposition. Answer in a way which seems to partly
+satisfy Examiner, who passes on to next man with a new question. In a
+minute or two my turn comes round again.
+
+"Now, Mr. JOYNSON," Examiner again observes cheerfully, "let me ask you
+quite an elementary question in Real Property. Just give me a brief, a
+very brief, explanation of what you understand by the Rule in SHELLEY'S
+Case!"
+
+But I don't understand anything by it! It's a piece of hopeless legal
+gibberish to me. I stammer out some attempt at an answer, and see Baboo
+looking at me with a pitying, almost reproachful, glance. "Didn't I," he
+seems to say, "explain it all to you once at dinner? Do you really mean
+to say that you've forgotten the way in which I arranged the
+salt-cellars and the table-knives, and how I turned the whole case
+inside out for your benefit?"
+
+I admit the offence. Examiner seems surprised at my ignorance--informs
+me that "it's as easy as A.B.C." It may be--to him and the Baboo.
+
+Baboo, being asked the same question, at once explains the whole matter,
+this time without the aid of the salt-cellars and cutlery.
+
+A few days later go to look at result of examination. Result, for me--a
+Plough!
+
+Walking away dejectedly--("homeward the Plough-man wends his legal
+way"--as GRAY sympathetically put it)--meet African law-student, who
+grins insanely. _He_ doesn't sympathise in my defeat. Shows his fine set
+of ivories and says:--
+
+"Me failed too. Me go back Gambia. You come back with me!"
+
+Tell him I'm not "called" yet: certainly not called to Gambia.
+
+"Then come to Alhambra!" he suggests, as a sort of alternative to a
+visit to the tropics.
+
+African student evidently still a masher. Decline his invitation with
+thanks. Wouldn't be seen with him at a theatre for worlds! Depressed.
+Don't even look in at Gaiety Bar. No Gaiety for _me_--and no "Bar"
+either, it seems.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+[Illustration: SOME NEW YEAR'S PROBLEMS.]
+
+ * * * * *
+
+THE BUSY (J.) B.
+
+(_Not by Dr. Watts._)
+
+ How doth the busy Jerry Builder
+ Improve his shining hoard,
+ And gather money, basely earned,
+ From every opening Board!
+
+ How skilfully he scamps his "shells"!
+ How deftly spreads his sludge!
+ And labours to defend his sells
+ By special-pleading fudge!
+
+ With what serene, well-practised skill,
+ He "squares" Surveyors too!
+ For Jobbery finds some baseness still
+ For venal hands to do.
+
+ Whether for work or healthful play
+ His buildings will not last.
+ May he be called some day, some day,
+ To strict account at last!
+
+ * * * * *
+
+PARLIAMENTARY INTELLIGENCE.--According to the announcement in the
+_Gazette_, the SPEAKER will take the Chair in the House of Commons on
+Tuesday, the 11th of February, when the new Session opens. But, as a
+matter of fact, _The Speaker_ will be on the book-stalls on Saturday
+next, the 4th of January, entering upon what promises to be a useful and
+prolonged Session. Thereafter _The Speaker_ will take the book-stall
+once a week regularly, there being Saturday sittings throughout the
+year. _The Speaker_ will, of course, be on the side of Law and "Order!
+Order!"
+
+ * * * * *
+
+A BALLAD OF EVIL SPEED.
+
+_A Cool Collation of Several Bards._
+
+ I would I had not met you, Sweet,
+ I wish you had been far away
+ From where, in Upper Wimpole Street,
+ We two foregather'd yesterday.
+ Somewhere in that unlovely street
+ Summer's lost beauty, hid away,
+ Woke at the music of your feet,
+ And sought the little girl in grey.
+ Around your head the sunbeams play--
+ Home to the depths of your deep eyes
+ Soft shadows of the woodland stray,
+ Then sparkle with a quick surprise,
+ As when the branch-entangled skies
+ Shake from the depths of woodland stream,
+ Awhile in laughing circles gleam,
+ Then spread to heaven's peace again.
+ Amber and gold, and feathery grey,
+ You suited well the Autumn day,
+ The muffled sun, the misty air,
+ The weather like a sleepy pear.
+ And yet I wish that you had been
+ Afar, beside the sounding main,
+ Or swaying daintily the rein
+ Of mettled courser on the green,
+ So I had passed, and passed unseen.
+
+ For I arose, from dreams of thee,
+ So late that morn, my matin tea
+ Was cold as mutton two days cooked;
+ As in the looking-glass I looked,
+ Methought the razor need not wreak
+ Its wonted vengeance on my cheek,
+ Nor clear the shadow from my chin
+ Till to the City I had been.
+ Thus, horrid with a nascent beard,
+ By chance through Wimpole Street I steered,
+ Trusting therein to shun contempt
+ Of who abhor a man unkempt.
+ For like a mother-bird, who's caught
+ The cant of modern woman's thought,
+ My restless tie refused to sit,
+ And restless fingers vainly sought
+ To soothe the silkworm's stubborn toil.
+ But only did its candour soil,
+ And suffered none the less from it.
+ For all my neck, and head no less,
+ Owned to a vague unquietness,
+ As when the vagrant spiderlet
+ Has spread at large her filmy net
+ To catch the moonbeams, wavering white,
+ At the front gate on Autumn night.
+
+ Then suddenly the sombre way
+ Rock'd like the darkness struck by day,
+ The endless houses reel'd from sight,
+ And all romance and all delight
+ Came thronging in a glorious crowd.
+ So, when the drums are beating loud,
+ The mob comes sweeping down the Mall,
+ Far heralding the bear-skins tall.
+ Glorious in golden clothing comes
+ The great drum-major with his drums
+ And sun-smit brass of trumpets; then
+ The scarlet wall of marching men,
+ Midmost of which great Mavors sets
+ The colours girt with bayonets.
+ Yes, there were you--and there was I,
+ Unshaved, and with erratic tie,
+ And for that once I yearn'd to shun
+ My social system's central sun.
+ How could a sloven slave express
+ The frank, the manly tenderness
+ That wraps you round from common thought,
+ And does not ask that you should know
+ The love that consecrates you so.
+ No; furtive, awkward, restless, cold,
+ I basely seemed to set at naught
+ That sudden bliss, undreamt, unsought.
+ What must she think, my girl of gold?
+ I dare not ask; and baffled wit
+ Droops--till sweet hopes begin to flit--
+ Like butterflies that brave the cold--
+ Perhaps she didn't notice it.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+[Illustration: STUDIES IN REPARTEE.
+
+_She._ "HOW SILENT YOU ARE! WHAT ARE YOU THINKING OF?"
+
+_He._ "_NOTHING!_"
+
+_She._ "EGOTIST!"]
+
+ * * * * *
+
+"JUST TO OBLIGE BENSON."
+
+DEAR MR. PUNCH,--It was not a very happy thought to send me to the Globe
+Theatre at this festive season of the year to witness the representation
+of a piece, called by the management, for some reason or other, "a
+_faërie_ comedy." Now, I like a Burlesque, and I am fond of a Pantomime,
+but a mixture of blank verse and tom-foolery is rather too much for me,
+especially when that mixture is not redeemed by a plot of any interest.
+Nothing can be more absurd than the story (save the mark!) told in this
+particularly uninteresting play. It appears that a "Duke!" of Athens
+married the Queen of the Amazons, and during the nuptial rejoicings
+ordered the daughter of one of his subjects to "die the death" unless
+she transferred her affections from her own true love to a gentleman of
+her father's choice. The gentleman of her father's choice was beloved in
+his turn by a school friend of his would-not-be betrothed, and the play
+which lasted from eight until nearly midnight, was devoted to setting
+this simple (in more senses than one) _imbroglio_ right. By a clumsy
+device, _Oberon_ King of the Fairies bewitched the two pairs of lovers
+during their sleep in a wood, so that one lady had two admirers and the
+other none. All that was needed to bring the piece to a conclusion was
+to have another exercise of magic when the couples paired off, of
+course, in a manner calculated to give satisfaction to their friends and
+relations. This was the entire plot. There was now and again some
+attempts to turn amateur theatricals into feeble ridicule by the
+introduction of a party of village histrions, who were allowed to
+"clown" to their heart's content; and _voilà tout_!
+
+The mounting is excellent. Nothing better than "a Wood near Athens,"
+painted by Mr. HEMSLEY, has been seen since Professor HERKOMER startled
+the world with his representation of village life at Bushey. The music,
+too (chiefly from the works of MENDELSSOHN), is always charming, and
+frequently appropriate. Moreover, Mr. BENSON, no doubt feeling that his
+author required every possible support, has introduced a number of
+pretty dances, executed by comely maidens of ages varying from seven to
+(say) seven-and-twenty.
+
+Of course, such a play required very ordinary acting. Mr. BENSON was, on
+the whole, a gentlemanly _Lysander_, Mr. OTHO STUART a dignified
+_Oberon_, and Mr. STEPHEN PHILLIPS quite the best of the village
+histrions. Miss GRACE GERALDINE was also fanciful in the _rôle_ of a
+sort of gnome. But, allowing for the music, and the scenery, and the
+acting, the piece itself was unquestionably dull. And now, having given
+you my unbiassed opinion, I beg to sign myself,
+
+ YOUR UNPREJUDICED CONTRIBUTOR.
+
+P.S.--I am told that the author of _A Midsummer's Dream_ wrote a number
+of other plays of considerable merit. This I challenge, the more
+especially as those who swear by Mr. WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE candidly admit
+that his name is a deterrent rather than an attraction on a play-bill.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+ 1890 ALMANACK FOR FUNNY DOGS.--Evidently "Whitty Curs'
+ Almanack."
+
+ * * * * *
+
+MR. PUNCH'S MORAL MUSIC-HALL DRAMAS.
+
+No. II.--JOE, THE JAM-EATER.
+
+_A Musical Spectacular and Sensational Interlude._ (_Dedicated
+respectfully to Mr. McDougall and the L. C. C._)
+
+[Illustration]
+
+The Music-hall Dramatist, like SHAKSPEARE, has a right to take his
+material from any source that may seem good to him. _Mr. Punch_,
+therefore, makes no secret of the fact, that he has based the following
+piece upon the well-known poem of "_The Purloiner_," by the Sisters JANE
+and ANN TAYLOR, who were _not_, as might be too hastily concluded, "Song
+and Dance Duettists," but two estimable ladies, who composed
+"cautionary" verses for the young, and whose works are a perfect mine of
+wealth for Moral Dramatists. In this dramatic version the Author has
+tried to infuse something of the old Greek sense of an overruling
+destiny, without detriment to prevailing ideas of moral responsibility.
+Those who have the misfortune to be born with a propensity for illicit
+jam, may learn from our Drama the terrible results of failing to
+overcome it early in life.
+
+DRAMATIS PERSONÆ
+
+_Jam-loving Joe._ By that renowned Melodramatic Serio-Comic, Miss CONNIE
+CURDLER.
+
+_Joe's Mother_ (_the very part for_ Mrs. BANCROFT _if she can only be
+induced to make her re-appearance_).
+
+_John, a Gardener._ By the great Pink-eyed Unmusical Zulu.
+
+_Jim-Jam, the Fermentation Fiend._ By Mr. BEERBOHM TREE (_who has kindly
+consented to undertake the part_).
+
+_Chorus of Plum and Pear Gatherers, from the Savoy_ (_by kind permission
+of_ Mr. D'OYLY CARTE).
+
+SCENE.--_The Store-room at sunset, with view of exterior of Jam
+Cupboard, and orchard in distance._
+
+_Enter_ JOE.
+
+"As JOE was at play, Near the cupboard one day, When he thought no one
+saw him but himself."--_Vide Poem._
+
+ _Joe_ (_dreamily_). 'Tis passing strange that I so partial am
+ To playing in the neighbourhood of Jam!
+
+[_Here_ Miss CURDLER _will introduce her great humorous Satirical
+Medley, illustrative of the Sports of Childhood, and entitled, "Some
+Little Gymes we all of us 'ave Plied;" after which, Enter_ JOE'S
+_Mother, followed by_ JOHN _and the Chorus, with baskets, ladders, &c.,
+for gathering fruit._
+
+"His Mother and JOHN, To the garden had gone, To gather ripe
+pears and ripe plums."--_Poem._
+
+ _Joe's Mother_ (_with forced cheerfulness_)--
+
+ Let's hope, my friends, to find our pears and plums,
+ Unharmed by wopses, and untouched by wums.
+
+[_Chorus signify assent in the usual manner by holding up the right
+hand._
+
+ _Solo_--JOHN.
+
+ Fruit when gathered ripe, is wholesome--
+ Otherwise if eaten green.
+ Once I knew a boy who stole some--
+ [_With a glance at_ JOE, who turns aside to conceal his
+ confusion.
+ His internal pangs were keen!
+
+ _Chorus_ (_virtuously_). 'Tis the doom of all who're mean,
+ Their internal pangs are keen!
+
+_Joe's Mother_ (_aside_). By what misgivings is a mother
+ tortured!
+ I'll keep my eye on JOSEPH in the orchard.
+ [_She invites him with a gesture to follow._
+
+ _Joe_ (_earnestly_). Nay, Mother, here I'll stay till you
+ have done.
+ Temptation it is ever best to shun!
+
+ _Joe's M._ So laudable his wish, I would not cross it--
+ (_Mysteriously._) He knows not there are jam-pots in yon
+ closet!
+
+ _Chorus._ Away we go tripping,
+ From boughs to be stripping
+ Each pear, plum, and pippin
+ Pomona supplies!
+
+ When homeward we've brought 'em,
+ Those products of Autumn,
+ We'll carefully sort 'em
+ (_One of our old Music-hall rhymes_),
+ According to size! [_Repeat as they caper out._
+
+[JOE'S Mother, _after one fond, lingering look behind, follows: the
+voices are heard more and more faintly in the distance. Stage darkens;
+the last ray of sunset illumines key of jam-cupboard door._
+
+ _Joe._ At last I am alone! Suppose I tried
+ That cupboard--just to see what's kept inside?
+ [_Seems drawn towards it by some fatal fascination._
+ There _might_ be Guava jelly, and a plummy cake,
+ For such a prize I'd laugh to scorn a stomach-ache!
+ [_Laughs a stomach-ache to scorn._
+ And yet (_hesitating_) who knows?--a pill?... perchance--a powder!
+ (_Desperately_). What then? To scorn I'll laugh them--even louder!
+
+[_Fetches chair and unlocks cupboard. Doors fall open with loud clang,
+revealing Interior of Jam Closet_ (_painted by_ HAWES CRAVEN). JOE
+_mounts chair to explore shelves. Vide poem, "How sorry I am, He ate
+raspberry jam, And currants that stood on the shelf!"_
+
+ _Joe_ (_speaking with mouth full, and back to audience_).
+ 'Tis raspberry--of all the jams my favourite;
+ I'll clear the pot, whate'er I have to pay for it!
+ And finish up with currants from this shelf....
+ Who'll ever see me?
+
+ _The Demon of the Jam Closet_ (_rising slowly from an immense pot of
+ preserves_). None--except Myself!
+
+[_The cupboard is lit up by an infernal glare_ (_courteously lent by the
+Lyceum Management from "Faust" properties_); _weird music;_ JOE _turns
+slowly and confronts the Demon with awestruck eyes;_ N.B.--_Great
+opportunity for powerful acting here._
+
+ _The Demon_ (_with a bland sneer_). Pray don't mind _me_--I will await
+ your leisure.
+
+ _Joe_ (_automatically_). Of your acquaintance, Sir, I've not the
+ pleasure.
+ Who _are_ you? Wherefore have you intervened?
+
+ _The Demon_ (_quietly_). My name is "Jim-Jam"; occupation--fiend.
+
+ _Joe_ (_cowering limply on his chair_). O Mr. Fiend, I _know_ it's
+ very wrong of me!
+
+ _Demon_ (_politely_). Don't mention it--but please to come "along of"
+ me?
+
+ _Joe_ (_imploringly_). Do let me off this once,--ha! you're relenting,
+ You smile----
+
+ _Demon_ (_grimly_). 'Tis nothing but my jam fermenting!
+ [_Catches_ JOE'S _ankle, and assists him to descend._
+
+ _Joe._ You'll drive me mad!
+
+ _Demon_ (_carelessly_). I _may_--before I've done with you!
+
+ _Joe._ What do you want?
+
+ _Demon_ (_darkly_). To have a little fun with you!
+ Of fiendish humour now I'll give a specimen.
+
+[_Chases him round and round Stage, and proceeds to smear him hideously
+with jam._
+
+ _Joe_ (_piteously_). Oh, don't! I feel _so_ sticky. _What_ a mess
+ I'm in!
+
+ _Demon_ (_with affected sympathy_). That _is_ the worst of jam--it's
+ apt to stain you.
+ [_To_ JOE, _as he frantically endeavours to remove the traces of his
+ crime._
+ I see you're busy--so I'll not detain you!
+
+[_Vanishes down star-trap with a diabolical laugh. Cupboard-doors close
+with a clang; all lights down._ JOE _stands gazing blankly for some
+moments, and then drags himself off Stage. His Mother and_ JOHN, _with
+Pear- and Plum-gatherers bearing laden baskets, appear at doors at back
+of Scene, in faint light of torches._
+
+_Re-enter Joe_ (_bearing a candle and wringing his hands_). Out, jammed
+spot! What--will these hands _never_ be clean? Here's the smell of the
+raspberry jam still! All the powders of Gregory cannot unsweeten this
+little hand.... (_Moaning._) Oh, oh, oh!
+
+[_This passage has been accused of bearing too close a resemblance to
+one in a popular Stage Play; if so, the coincidence is purely
+accidental, as the Dramatist is not in the habit of reading such profane
+literature._
+
+ _Joe's Mother._ Ah! what an icy dread my heart benumbs!
+ See--stains on all his fingers, _and_ his thumbs!
+
+"What JOE was about, His Mother found out, When she look'd at his
+fingers and thumbs."--_Poem again._
+
+ Nay, JOSEPH--'tis your mother ... speak to her!
+
+_Joe_ (_tonelessly, as before_). Lady, I know you not (_touches lower
+part of waistcoat_); but, prithee, undo this button. I think I have jam
+in all my veins, and I would fain sleep. When I am gone, lay me in a
+plain white jelly-pot, with a parchment cover, and on the label
+write----but come nearer, I have a secret for your ear alone ... there
+are strange things in some cupboards! Demons should keep in the
+dust-bin. (_With a ghastly smile._) I know not what ails me, but I am
+not feeling at all well.
+
+[JOE'S Mother _stands a few steps from him, with her hands twisted in
+her hair, and stares at him in speechless terror._
+
+_Joe_ (_to the Chorus_). I would shake hands with you all, were not my
+fingers so sticky. We eat marmalade, but we know not what it is made of.
+Hush! if JIM-JAM comes again, tell him that I am not at home.
+Loo-loo-loo!
+
+_All_ (_with conviction_). Some shock has turned his brine!
+
+_Joe_ (_sitting down on floor, and weaving straws in his hair_). My
+curse upon him that invented jam. Let us all play Tibbits.
+
+[_Laughs vacantly: all gather round him, shaking their heads, his_
+Mother _falls fainting at his feet, as Curtain falls upon a strong and
+moral, though undeniably gloomy dénoûment._
+
+ * * * * *
+
+THE SAVOYARDS.
+
+MESSRS. GILBERT AND SULLIVAN'S _Gondoliers_ deserves to rank immediately
+after _The Mikado_ and _Pinafore_ bracketed. The _mise-en-scène_ is in
+every way about as perfect as it is possible to be. Every writer of
+_libretti_, every dramatist and every composer, must envy the Two
+Savoyards, their rare opportunities of putting their own work on their
+own stage, and being like the two Kings in this piece, jointly and
+equally monarchs of all they survey, though, unlike these two
+potentates, they are not their subjects' servants, and have only to
+consider what is best for the success of their piece, and to have it
+carried out, whatever it is, literally regardless of expense. And what
+does their work amount to? Simply a Two-Act Opera, to play
+two-hours-and-a-half, for the production of which they have practically
+a whole year at their disposal. They can go as near commanding success
+as is given to mortal dramatist and composer, and for any comparative
+failure they can have no one to blame but themselves, the pair of them.
+
+[Illustration: "Once upon a time there were two Kings."]
+
+Whatever the piece may be, it is always a pleasure to see how thoroughly
+the old hands at the Savoy enter into "the fun of the thing," and, as in
+the case of Miss JESSIE BOND and Mr. RUTLAND BARRINGTON, absolutely
+carry the audience with them by sheer exuberance of spirits.
+
+Mr. RUTLAND BARRINGTON possesses a ready wit and keen appreciation of
+humour; and, as this is true also of Miss JESSIE BOND, the couple, being
+thoroughly in their element with such parts as _The Gondoliers_ provide
+for them, legitimately graft their own fun on the plentiful stock
+already supplied by the author, and are literally the life and soul of
+the piece.
+
+On the night I was there a Miss NORAH PHYLLIS took Miss ULMAR'S part of
+_Gianetta_, and played it, at short notice, admirably. She struck me as
+bearing a marked facial resemblance to Miss FORTESQUE, and is a decided
+acquisition. Mr. DENNY, as the Grand Inquisitor (a part that recalls the
+Lord High Chancellor of the ex-Savoyard, GEORGE GROSSMITH, now
+entertaining "on his own hook"), doesn't seem to be a born Savoyard,
+_non nascitur_ and _non fit_ at present. Good he is, of course, but
+there's no spontaneity about him. However, for an eccentric comedian
+merely to do exactly what he is told, and nothing more, yet to do that,
+little or much, well, is a performance that would meet with _Hamlet's_
+approbation, and Mr. GILBERT'S. Mr. FRANK WYATT, as "the new boy" at the
+Savoy School, doesn't, as yet, seem quite happy; but it cannot be
+expected that he should feel "quite at home," when he has only recently
+arrived at a new school.
+
+Miss BRANDRAM is a thorough Savoyard; _nihil tetigit quod non ornavit_,
+and her embroidery of a part which it is fair to suppose was written to
+suit her, is done in her own quaint and quiet fashion.
+
+A fantastically and humorous peculiarly Gilbertian idea is the
+comparison between a visit to the dentist's, and an interview with the
+questioners by the rack, suggested by the Grand Inquisitor Don ALHAMBRA
+who says that the nurse is waiting in the torture-chamber, but that
+there is no hurry for him to go and examine her, as she is all right and
+"has all the illustrated papers."
+
+[Illustration: Rutland Pooh-Bah-rington, after signing his
+re-engagement, takes his Bond, and sings, "Again we come to the Savoy."]
+
+There are ever so many good things in the Opera, but the best of all,
+for genuinely humorous inspiration of words, music and acting, is the
+quartette in the Second Act, "In a contemplative fashion." It is
+excellent. Thank goodness, _encores_ are disencouraged, except where
+there can be "No possible sort of doubt, No possible doubt whatever"
+(also a capital song in this piece) as to the unanimity of the
+enthusiasm. There is nothing in the music that catches the ear on a
+first hearing as did "_The Three Little Maids_," or "_I've got a Song to
+Sing O!_" but it is all charming, and the masterly orchestration in its
+fulness and variety is something that the least technically educated can
+appreciate and enjoy. The piece is so brilliant to eye and ear, that
+there is never a dull moment on the stage or off it. It is just one of
+those simple _Bab-Ballady_ stories which, depending for its success not
+on any startling surprise in the plot, but on general excellence, may,
+especially on account of the music, be safely put down on the
+play-goer's list for "a second hearing."
+
+ CHRISTMAS BOX.
+
+[Illustration: George Grossmith on his own Hook.]
+
+ * * * * *
+
+RUSSIAN ART.
+
+From _The Morning Post_, last week, we learn that the Russian Imperial
+Academy of Arts, has passed a law prohibiting Jews to become members of
+its artistic body. By the Nose of _Mr. Punch_, but this is too bad, and
+too bigoted for any century, let alone the "so-called Nineteenth." If
+such a rule, or rather such an exception, could have been possible in
+England within the last twenty years, what a discouragement it would
+have been for all the Royal Academicians, who would thereby _have lost
+Hart!_ Dear good old SOLOMON! He was a poor HART that often rejoiced,
+and if he was not the best painter in the world, he was just about the
+worst punster. We hope to hear that our Royal Academicians, with their
+large-hearted and golden-tongued President at their head, will send a
+friendly expostulation to their Russian Brothers in oil, and obtain the
+abrogation of this unreasonable legislation, which is one effect of an
+anti-semitic cyclone, fit only for the _Jew-ventus Mundi_, but not for
+the world at its maturity.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+ "DOT AND GO ONE"--no, see _Dot_, and go several times
+ again to see our JOHNNIE TOOLE at his own Theatre,
+ before he leaves for the Antipodes. The good old farce
+ of _Toole in the Pigskin_ is well-mounted, and is, of
+ course, one of the pieces on which he will rely, as
+ especially appropriate to Horse-tralia.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+[Illustration: FRESH TO THE COUNTRY.
+
+_Young Lady._ "CAN YOU TELL ME WHERE THE MEET IS?"
+
+_Butcher's Boy_ (_a recent importation from London_). "YES, MUM. I JIST
+TOOK IT HUP TO THE 'ALL THIS MORNIN'!"]
+
+ * * * * *
+
+THE START.
+
+ Off! Yes; but inexperienced feet,
+ With pace that's fast and a style that's neat,
+ At first can scarcely be expected
+ O'er frozen waters to glide and fleet.
+
+ "_Have them on, Sir?_" Old Time was there,
+ With the shining steels and the ready chair.
+ His latest pupil is passing yonder,
+ No more the ice-locked waters to dare.
+
+ _His_ feet are tired and his knees are stiff,
+ _His_ breath comes low in a wheezy whiff.
+ He'll now "lay up," like a worn-out wherry.
+ 'Tis yours to start like a new-launched skiff.
+
+ How many a novice that Skate-man old
+ Has helped to onset alert and bold!
+ How many a veteran worn seen vanish,
+ Aching with effort and pinched with cold!
+
+ And you, young novice, 'tis now your turn
+ Your skates to try and your steps to learn.
+ You long to fly like the skimming swallow,
+ To brave the breathless "scurry" you burn.
+
+ He knows, he knows, your aged guide!
+ The screws are fixed, and the straps are tied,
+ And he looks sharp out for the shambling stagger,
+ The elbows wobbling, the knees too wide.
+
+ But boyhood's hopeful, and youth has pluck;
+ And now, when scarcely your steel hath struck
+ The slithery ice in your first bold venture,
+ _Punch_, friendly watcher, will wish you luck!
+
+ He too has seen some novices start,
+ And knows, however you play your part,
+ The "outside edge," and attendant perils,
+ Will tax your sinews and test your heart.
+
+ But most on the ice does the old saw hold--
+ "Be bold, be bold, but be not _too_ bold!"
+ Though there's many a rotten patch marked "Danger!"
+ Young hearts are warm if the weather be cold.
+
+ Bravo, youngster! Steady! Strike out!
+ Caution, yes, but not palsying doubt.
+ Courage! and you--ere your course you finish--
+ May beat "Fish" SMART at a flying bout!
+
+ * * * * *
+
+ROBERT'S KRISMUS HIM.
+
+ How werry warious is the reasons why
+ We welcoms Crismus with a ringing cheer!
+ The Skoolboy nos his hollidays is nigh,
+ And treats the hale stout Porter to sum Beer.
+
+ The Cook and Ousemaid smiles upon the Baker,
+ Who takes his little fee without no blush,
+ Likewise upon the Butcher and Shoo Maker
+ Who makes their calls dispite the Sno or Slush.
+
+ The Dustman cums a crying out for "Dust,"
+ But nos full well that isn't wot he seeks,
+ And gits his well-earned shilling with the fust,
+ And smiles on Mary as his thanks he speaks.
+
+ The Groser smart, as likewise his Green Brother,
+ In their best close cums with a modest ring,
+ And having got their orders, one and tother,
+ Smilingly asks for jest one other thing.
+
+ The Postman's dubbel nock cums to each door,
+ Whether he has a Letter got or no,
+ The stingy Master thinks his call a bore,
+ And gives his paltry shilling werry slow.
+
+ The jowial Waiter shows unwonted joy!
+ And hails his Crismus with becoming glee!
+ Knowing full well _his_ plezzurs newer cloy,
+ Who gets from ewery Gest a dubble fee!
+
+ Why are not all men like the jowial Waiter,
+ Allers content with what kind Fortune brings,
+ Whether it's Turtel Soop or a meer tater,
+ He sets a pattern to Lord Mares and Kings.
+
+ Then let us all while Crismus time we're keeping,
+ Whether we barsks in fortune's smile or frown,
+ Be thankful for the harwest we are reaping,
+ And give a thort to them whose luck is down.
+
+ROBERT.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+ HISTORICAL PARALLELS.--Two Directories. The French
+ _Directoire_ was a short-lived stopgap of not unmixed
+ benefit to France, but our English Directory, yclept
+ KELLY'S, for 1890, directorily, or indirectorily,
+ supplies all our wants, comes always "as a boon and a
+ blessing to men," and is within a decade of becoming a
+ hale and hearty centenarian. _Vivat_ KELLY!
+
+ * * * * *
+
+[Illustration: THE START]
+
+ * * * * *
+
+UNTILED; OR, THE MODERN ASMODEUS.
+
+"Très volontiers," repartit le démon.
+
+"Vous aimez les tableaux changeans: je veux vous contenter."
+
+_Le Diable Boiteux._
+
+[Illustration]
+
+XV.
+
+ Down through the night we drifted slow, the rays
+ From London's countless gas-jets starred the haze
+ O'er which we darkly hovered.
+ Broad loomed the bulk of WREN'S colossal dome
+ Through the grey mist, which, like a sea of foam,
+ The sleeping city covered.
+
+ "The year," the Shadow murmured, "nears its close.
+ Lo! how they swarm in slumber, friends and foes,
+ Kindred and utter strangers,
+ The millions of this Babylon, stretched beneath
+ The shroud of night, and drawing peaceful breath,
+ Unstirred by dreads and dangers."
+
+ "But not by dreams," I answered, "Canst reveal,
+ O Shade, the vagrant thoughts that throng and steal
+ About these countless pillows?
+ Or are these sleeping souls as shut to thee
+ As is the unsounded silence of the sea
+ To those who brave its billows?"
+
+ "Dreams?" smiled the Shadow. "What I see right well
+ Your eyes may not behold. Yet can I tell
+ Their import as unravelled
+ By subtler sense, whilst through these souls they pass!
+ What said the demon to _Don Cléophas_
+ As o'er Madrid they travelled?
+
+ "Such dreams as haunt us near the glimmering morn
+ Shadow forth truth; these through the Gates of Horn
+ Find passage to the sleeper.
+ Prophetic? Nay! But sense therein may read
+ The heart's desire, in pangs of love or greed;
+ What divination deeper?
+
+ "Yon Statesman, struggling in the nightmare's grip,
+ Fears he has let Time's scanty forelock slip,
+ And lost a great occasion
+ Of self-advancement. How that mouth's a-writhe
+ With hate, on platforms oft so blandly blithe
+ In golden-tongued persuasion!
+
+ "He, blindly blundering, as through baffling mist,
+ Is a professional philanthropist,
+ Rosy-gilled, genial, hearty.
+ A mouthing Friend of Man. He dreams he's deep
+ In jungles of self-interest, where creep
+ Sleuth-hounds of creed and party.
+
+ "That sleek-browed sleeper? 'Tis the Great Pooh-pooh,
+ The 'Mugwump' of the _Weekly Whillaloo_,
+ A most superior creature;
+ Too high for pity and too cold for wrath;
+ The pride of dawdlers on the Higher Path
+ Suffuses every feature.
+
+ "Contemptuous, he, of clamorous party strife,
+ And all the hot activities of life;
+ But most the Politician
+ He mocks--for 'meanness.' How the prig would gasp
+ If shown the slime-trail of that wriggling asp
+ In his own haunts Elysian!
+
+ "He dreams Creation, cleared of vulgar noise,
+ Is dedicate to calm æsthetic joys,
+ That he is limply lolling
+ Amidst the lilies that toil not nor spin,
+ Given quite to dandy scorn, and dainty sin,
+ And languor, and 'log-rolling.'
+
+ "The head which on that lace-trimmed pillow lies
+ Is fair as Psyche's. Yes, those snow-veiled eyes
+ Look Dian-pure and saintly.
+ Sure no Aholibah could own those lips,
+ Through whose soft lusciousness the bland breath slips
+ So fragrantly and faintly.
+
+ "That up-curved arm which bears the silken knot
+ Of dusky hair, is it more free from blot
+ Than is her soul who slumbers?
+ Her visions? Of 'desirable young men,'
+ Who crowd round her like swine round Circe's pen
+ In ever-swelling numbers.
+
+ "Of Love? Nay, but of lovers. Love's a lean
+ And impecunious urchin; lovers mean
+ Gifts, worship, triumph--Money!
+ The Golden Apple is the fruit to witch
+ Our modern Atalantas. To be rich,
+ Live on life's milk and honey;
+
+ "Stir crowds, charm royalties,--these are the things
+ Psyche most cares for, not her radiant wings
+ Or Cupid's shy caresses.
+ She dreams of conquests that a world applauds,
+ Or a Stage-wardrobe with a thousand gauds,
+ And half-a-hundred dresses.
+
+ "Not so, that other sleeper, stretched at length,
+ A spectre stripped of charm and shorn of strength,
+ In yon dismantled chamber.
+ Dreams she of girlhood's couch, the lavender
+ Of country sheets, a roof where pigeons whirr
+ And creamy roses clamber?
+
+ "Of him the red-faced swain whose rounded eyes
+ Dwelt on her charms in moony ecstacies?
+ Of pride, of shame, of sorrow?
+ Nay, of what now seems Nature's crowning good;
+ Hunger-wrought dreams are hers of food--food--food.
+ She'll wake from them to-morrow;
+
+ "Wake fiercely famishing, savagely sick,
+ The animal in man is quick, so quick
+ To stir and claim full forage.
+ Let famine parch the hero's pallid lips,
+ Pinch Beauty's breast, then watch the swift eclipse
+ Of virtue, sweetness, courage!
+
+ "Cynical? Sense leaves that to callow youth
+ And callous age; plain picturing of the truth
+ Seems cynical,--to folly.
+ Friend, the true cynic is the shallow mime
+ Who paints humanity devoid of crime,
+ And life supremely 'jolly,'
+
+ "See such an one, in scented sheets a-loll!
+ Rich fare and rosy wine have lapped his soul
+ In a _bon-vivant's_ slumbers.
+ His pen lies there, the ink is scarcely dry
+ With which he sketched the smug philosophy
+ Of Cant and Christmas Numbers.
+
+ "He dreams of--holly, home, exuberant hearts,
+ Picturesque poverty, the toys and tarts
+ Of childhood's hope?--No, verily!
+ 'Tis a dream-world of pleasure, power, and pelf,
+ Visions of the apocalypse of Self,
+ O'er which his soul laughs merrily."
+
+ "Enough!" I cried. "The morning's earliest gleams
+ Will soon dissolve this pageantry of dreams.
+ The New Year's at our portals.
+ Unselfishness, and purity, and hope,
+ Dawn with it through the dream-world's cloudy cope,
+ Even on slumbering mortals."
+
+ "Granted," the Shadow answered. "Poppy-Land
+ Is not _all_ Appetite and Humbug bland.
+ Myriads of night-capped noddles
+ We must leave unexplored. Their owners oft
+ Are saints austere, or sympathisers soft,
+ Truth's types and Virtue's models!"
+
+(_To be continued._)
+
+ * * * * *
+
+ANSWERS TO CORRESPONDENTS.
+
+PREPARING TO MEET AN EPIDEMIC.--If you sit all day in your great coat,
+muffled up to the eyes in a woollen comforter and with your feet in
+constantly replenished mustard and hot water, as you propose, you will
+certainly be prepared, when it makes its appearance, to encounter the
+attack of the Russian Epidemic Influenza, that you so much dread. Your
+idea of taking a dose of some advertised Patent Medicine every other
+hour, as a preventive, is by no means a bad one, and your resolution to
+shut yourself up in your house, see no friends, open no letters, read no
+newspapers, and live entirely on tinned meats for three months, might
+possibly secure you from the chances of an attack; but on the whole we
+should rather advise you to carry out your plan of leaving the country
+altogether and seeking a temporary asylum in South Central Africa until
+you are assured that the contagion has blown over, as the preferable
+one. Anyhow you might try it. Meanwhile, certainly drench your clothes
+with disinfectants, fill your hat with cotton wool steeped in spirits of
+camphor, and if you meet any friends in the street, prevent them
+addressing you, by keeping them at arm's-length with your walking-stick,
+or, better still, if you have it with you, your opened umbrella. They
+may or they may not understand your motive, and when they do, though
+they may not respect you for your conduct, it is just possible that they
+may not seriously resent it. Your precautionary measures, if
+scrupulously carried out, should certainly ensure your safety. Put them
+in hand at once, and be sure you let us hear from you next Spring
+informing us, on the whole, how you have got on.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+ WHAT POCKET-BOOKS TO GET.--Mark us; WARD'S.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+[Illustration: HUNTING HINTS.----HOW TO KEEP THE THING GOING DURING A
+SNOW.]
+
+ * * * * *
+
+OUR BOOKING-OFFICE
+
+ THE BARON'S Booking-Office is still decked about with holly,
+ For the Season that at any rate's conventionally "jolly,"
+ Is by no means wholly over, and the very hard-worked Baron
+ Feels rather like a sort of tired-out literary Charon,
+ With an over-laden ferry-boat, and passengers too numerous.
+ For seasonable "novelties"--and "notions" quaint and humorous
+ Still crowd on him, and claim his constant critical attention,
+ Some may escape his notice, but a few more he must mention
+ MARCUS WARD'S are good as usual, and his "Christmas Cheque Book"'s funny;
+ Though rather a sardonic "sell" to parties short of money.
+ CASTELL BROTHERS' Cards are charming, but the words "Printed in Germany,"
+ The patriotic Baron irk, or may he turn a Merman! He
+ Can't see why pictured prettiness should be beyond _home_-printing.
+ He doesn't want to dogmatise, but really can't help _hinting!_
+ _Scout's Head_, by LANGBRIDGE, boys will like. JEROME K. JEROME'S
+ _Stage-Land_,
+ Which BERNARD PARTRIDGE illustrates, might tickle e'en the sage land
+ Of Puritan Philistia at Clapham-Rise or Barnsbury.
+ And now let us the memory of Christmas Cards and yarns bury
+ In a right bowl of stingo, in the which the Baron cheerily
+ Drinks to his readers heartily, sincerely, and Happy-New-Year-ily!
+
+Once upon a time Mr. LEWIS CARROLL wrote a marvellously grotesque,
+fantastic, and humorous book called _Alice in Wonderland_, and on
+another occasion he wrote _Through the Looking-Glass_, in which _Alice_
+reappeared, and then the spring of Mr. LEWIS CARROLL'S fanciful humour
+apparently dried up, for he has done nothing since worth mentioning in
+the same breath with his two first works; and if his writings have been
+by comparison watery, unlike water, they have never risen by inherent
+quality to their original level. Of his latest book, called _Sylvie and
+Bruno_, I can make neither head nor tale. It seems a muddle of all
+sorts, including a little bit of Bible thrown in. It will be bought,
+because LEWIS CARROLL'S name is to it, and it will be enjoyed for the
+sake of Mr. FURNISS'S excellent illustrations, but for no other reason,
+that I can see. I feel inclined to carol to CARROLL, "O don't you
+remember sweet ALICE?" and, if so, please be good enough to wake her up
+again, if you can.
+
+M. FRÉDERIC MAYER'S International Almanack takes my breath away. It is
+overwhelmingly international. Most useful to the International
+Theatre-goer, as there are plans of all the principal theatres in
+Europe, with the seats numbered, so that you have only to wire (answer
+paid) to the Théâtre Français for _fauteuil d'orchestre_ Number 20, to
+Drury Lane in the same way, to the Operahaus, Berlin ("Open Haus" sounds
+so internationally hospitable) for _Parquet_ Number 200 (so as to get a
+good view), to the Wallner Theater, Berlin, for something of the same
+sort, or to La Scala, Milan, for the sixth _Sedie d'orchestra_ on the
+left (as the numbers are not given--why?) and you'll be accommodated.
+Then with ease the internationalist can learn when the Moon is full,
+_Pleine Lune_, _Vollmond_, _Luna Piena_ and _Luna Ilena_ in five
+languages. The Italian, the Spaniard, the French, the Englishman, the
+German and the Dutchman can find out all about the different
+watering-places of Europe, each one in his own native tongue, and all
+about "the Court of Arches" in London and Madrid. There is the Jewish
+and also the Mahommedan Calendar, but I see nothing about the Greek
+Kalends. I am not quite sure that the Bulgarians will be quite
+satisfied, and I should say, that the Aborigines of Central Africa will
+have a distinct grievance, which M. FRÉDERIC MAYER will rectify after an
+interview with Mr. STANLEY. It's a wonderful production, and as it gives
+postal rates and cab-fares in ever so many languages, it will be of
+great practical value to the traveller. But no list of cab-fares is
+perfect without a model row with the driver in eight languages,
+including some bad language and directions as to the shortest route to
+the nearest police court.
+
+Our good Doctor ROOSE _in urbe_, has just published a _brochure_,
+dealing with the origin, treatment, and prevention (for there is
+apparently no cure) of the fell disease to which, and for a multitude of
+whose victims, Father DAMIEN died a martyr. If in the Doctor's treatment
+of this subject after his own peculiar fashion _à la_ ROOSE, he can help
+to alleviate present suffering and materially assist the crusade now
+being undertaken against this common enemy, he will have contributed his
+share of energy in starting 1890 hopefully.
+
+Those who suffer from indigestion at this festive season, and wish to
+intensify the effects of the malady, will do well to read a new book
+entitled _Master of his Fate_, by J. MACLAREN COBBAN, who, if he does
+not write well, that is, judging his style from a hypercritical purist's
+point of view, yet contrives to interest you with a story almost as
+sensational as that of _Hyde and Jekyl_. The _Master of his Fate_ might
+have had for its second title, _Or, The Accomplished Modern Vampire_,
+the hero being a sort of a vampire, but not one of the good old school.
+
+BARON DE BOOK-WORMS & CO.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+[Illustration: "THE SERVANTS."
+
+_Lady Patroness_ (_Registry Office of Charitable Society_). "AND WHY ARE
+YOU LEAVING YOUR PRESENT PLACE?"
+
+_Small Applicant._ "PLEASE, 'M, THE LADY SAID SHE CAN DO WITH A LESS
+EXPERIENCED SERVANT!"]
+
+ * * * * *
+
+AMONG THE AMATEURS.
+
+No. II.--PREPARATION.
+
+SCENE.--_The Theatre of the provincial town of Blankbury. A company of
+Amateurs, the "Thespian Wanderers," are rehearsing the well-known Comedy
+of "Heads or Tails?" Amongst them are our friends_ BUCKSTONE BOLDERO,
+TIFFINGTON SPINKS, CHARLIE GUSHBY, _and_ HARRY HALL. _Besides these, we
+may note_ Colonel THOMAS CLUMK, _an ex-military Amateur, who devotes
+more time to acting small parts and talking big about them than he ever
+did to soldiering. Then there is_ ANDREW JARP, _a portly and elderly
+partner in a considerable firm of Solicitors, and an actor who, by long
+practice, has grown perfect in the part of a Family Butler. His office
+is in the City, and he drives down to it every morning in a private
+brougham, fitted with a looking-glass, by the help of which he studies
+the air and deportment characteristic of a modern Seneschal. He is a man
+of few words, off as well as on the stage; but his eyes flash fury if he
+hears his favourite Art derided by the scoffer._ HORATIO SPUFFIL _is
+also in the cast. He has dabbled in literature, but has lately abandoned
+such frivolity, and been elected a Member of the London County Council.
+A few rising Amateur Supers complete the male portion of the cast. The
+Ladies' parts are played by professional Actresses, of the Theatres
+Royal generally, who happen to be, as they pleasantly express it in
+their advertisements in the "Era," "resting"_--Miss DOROTHY SHUTTLE,
+Miss AMELIA SLIMPER, _who are new to the Amateurs,_ and KITTY LARKINGS,
+_who has "assisted" the "Thespian Wanderers" before._ BOLDERO _is Stage
+Manager. The Stage is occupied by_ SPINKS (_as_ Colonel DEBENHAM, _a
+retired Indian Officer_), GUSHBY (_as_ TOM TILBURY, _a comic Country
+Squire_), _and_ DOROTHY SHUTTLE (_as_ BELINDA, _Nurserymaid in the
+family of_ Lord _and_ Lady SHORTHORN, _represented respectively by_
+BOLDERO _and_ Miss AMELIA).
+
+_Boldero_ (_from the front of the house_). Stop a moment! You know we
+really must settle what we are to do about those two children that
+_Belinda's_ got to wheel on in the double perambulator. I asked the
+Duchess of MIDDLESEX to lend us her twins for a couple of nights, but
+she writes to say they've just got the measles. Isn't there any one here
+who can help us? [_The three Ladies titter._
+
+_Gushby_ (_in whose breast the leading part played by_ SPINKS _still
+rankles_). Why not let SPINKS do it? He's always wanting to "double"
+parts, and here's a splendid chance for him.
+
+_Spinks_ (_coldly_). That's _very_ funny--really _very_ funny, GUSHBY.
+It's a pity "Colonel DEBENHAM" (_alluding to his own rôle in the
+comedy_) isn't a _clown's_ part. I'd give it up to you right off, if it
+was. Ha, ha! (_bitterly_).
+
+_Colonel Clumk_. There's a man in my old regiment who's got two
+red-haired brats; but he wants ten shillings a night for 'em.
+
+_Boldero._ That's pretty stiff. However, I'll inspect them to-morrow.
+Let's get on a bit now. Come, SPINKS!
+
+_Spinks._ Where were we? (_With an air of intense annoyance._) These
+constant interruptions put one off so. Oh, yes, I remember. (_Resumes
+rehearsing the part of_ "Colonel DEBENHAM.") "Nursemaid, take those
+squalling infants away. I'm surprised at Lady SHORTHORN permitting them
+in the drawing-room. Wheel them away at once--at once, I say; or I'll
+make curry-powder of the lot of you!"
+
+_Miss Dorothy Shuttle_ (_as_ "BELINDA"). "Well, I'm sure; I never was so
+spoken to afore. (_To her imaginary children._) Did the horrid man scold
+them, then, pretty dears? (_To_ DEBENHAM.) You a Colonel? You ain't fit
+to be a General in the Salvation Army. Imperence!" [_Exit, wheeling
+an imaginary perambulator._
+
+_Boldero_ (_enthusiastically_). Excellent! That couldn't have been done
+better. When we get the perambulator and the babies, it's bound to go.
+(Miss DOROTHY SHUTTLE _is much pleased, and foresees several stalls
+being taken on the occasion of her next benefit._) Now, then (_to_
+SPINKS, _who thinks it a mistake that a Stage Manager should stop to
+praise anybody, with one exception, of course, at rehearsal_), SPINKS,
+hurry up a bit, hurry up!
+
+_Spinks._ My dear BOLDERO, I'm perfectly ready to begin as soon as ever
+the talking stops. I know my cues, I fancy; but it's quite hopeless to
+get on if _everybody_ wants to talk at the same moment. (_Resumes his
+part as_ "Colonel DEBENHAM," _shaking his fist at the departing_
+BELINDA.) "Impertinent minx! (_Turns furiously on_ GUSHBY, _who is on
+the stage in the character of_ TILBURY, _the comic Squire._) And you,
+Sir, what in the name of fifty thousand jackasses, do you mean by
+standing there grinning from ear to ear like a buck nigger? But I'll not
+stand it any longer, Sir, not for a moment. D'ye hear, you miserable
+turnip-faced bumpkin, d'ye hear?" (_Carried away by histrionic
+enthusiasm_, SPINKS _brings his fist down violently on the precise spot
+where a table ought to be, but is not, standing. As a natural result, he
+hits himself with much force on his leg. The others laugh, and the
+Ladies turn away giggling, feeling that they ought to be sympathetic.
+The unfortunate_ SPINKS _hurts himself considerably, and is furious.
+Coming, as it were, right out of the part, and being temporarily himself
+again, only in a rage, he addresses the Stage Manager._) Upon my soul,
+BOLDERO, this is perfectly infamous. How often have I begged you to get
+that table placed there _at all costs_, and time after time you forget
+it. I know what it is; you want to make me ridiculous. But you'll be
+d---- (_suddenly remembers that ladies are present, and substitutes a
+milder expletive_)--confoundedly sorry for yourself when you find I'm
+too lame to act, and the whole of your precious piece will be ruined.
+You'll none of you get notices worth twopence from the critics.
+[_Limps up and down the Stage._
+
+_Miss Amelia Slimper_ (_rather a novice, and anxious to make useful
+acquaintances among the distinguished Amateurs--to_ Miss KITTY,
+_whispering_). Are they very keen about notices?
+
+_Miss Kitty_ (_experienced in Amateurs_). Keen! I should think they
+were. They talk about nothing else when it's over.
+
+_Boldero_ (_peaceably_). Well, SPINKS, you know you smashed two tables
+last week, and I thought we agreed to rehearse without one. But I'll see
+it's there next time. Now then, JARP! Where's JARP? This is his
+entrance. Where the deuce is he? (_Enter_ JARP _as_ "Mr. BINNS, _Butler
+to_ Lord SHORTHORN"). Dear me, JARP, what have you been up to?
+
+_Jarp_ (_vexed_). What have I been up to? I'll tell you. I've been
+learning my part, and it would be a good thing if everybody were to
+follow my example, instead of talking all day.
+
+_Boldero._ JARP, don't be sarcastic. It doesn't suit you. Let's see if
+you know your part, after all this.
+
+JARP (_as_ BINNS, _without moving a muscle_). "'Er Ladyship's
+compliments, Colonel DEBENHAM, and she would like to see you."
+
+_Spinks_ (_as_ DEBENHAM). "Very well. Tell her I'll come."
+
+_Jarp_ (_as_ BINNS). "Yes, Sir."
+
+[_Exit_ JARP _as_ BINNS, _but immediately becomes_ JARP, _and complains
+to the young Ladies that these fellows never will rehearse properly. The
+professional Ladies sympathise with him, and admit that it is very
+provoking, and_ Miss AMELIA _takes the opportunity of expressing her
+confident opinion that he_, JARP, _will play his part admirably, and
+only wonders that he hasn't got more to do. Then somehow the
+conversation wanders towards professional matters, and the probability
+of_ Miss AMELIA _being engaged next season at a fashionable London
+Theatre, &c., &c._
+
+_Miss Dorothy_ (_aside, in a whisper, to_ Miss KITTY, _alluding to_
+JARP'S _recent exit_). Is that all he's got to say?
+
+_Miss Kitty_ (_in same tone to_ Miss DOROTHY). Not quite. He says, "'Er
+Ladyship is served!" in the next Act. A part like that takes a deal of
+learning.
+
+[_The rehearsal proceeds._ SPUFFIL _does wonders as "a young man about
+town";_ Colonel CLUMK _performs the part of a Country Clergyman in a
+manner suggestive rather of a Drill-sergeant than a Vicar._ BOLDERO
+_having praised_ SPINKS, _is pronounced by the latter to be
+unapproachable as_ Lord SHORTHORN. _In the Third Act_, HALL _sings his
+song about_ "the Boy in Buttons." _On the previous day, he had had a
+difference with_ SPINKS _and_ BOLDERO.
+
+_Boldero._ I think that song's out of place. What say you, SPINKS?
+
+_Spinks._ Well, it does sound just a trifle vulgar.
+
+_Boldero._ Yes. I think we shall have to cut it, HALL. It'll do for next
+year just as well. You can make it fit any piece?
+
+_Hall_ (_pale, but determined_). If that song goes, I go too. Oh, yes,
+SPINKS, it's all very well for you to be so blessed polite to BOLDERO,
+but you didn't seem to think much of his acting (_observes_ SPUFFIL
+_smiling_) no, nor of SPUFFIL'S either, when you spoke to me yesterday:
+and as for GUSHBY, why we all know what GUSHBY is.
+
+[_All join in the fight, which continues for ten minutes._
+
+_Boldero_ (_looking at his watch_). Good heavens! we shall miss our
+train, and I've promised to look in on IRVING to-night. He'd never
+forgive me if I didn't turn up.
+
+[_Smiles of quiet intelligence appear on the faces of the other
+Amateurs, accompanied with a few winks, which like "laughter in Court,"
+are "immediately suppressed." Exeunt omnes, severally, each pleased with
+himself, and more or less disgusted with everybody else._
+
+_Miss Amelia_ (_to_ KITTY). What a funny lot! Are they like that every
+year?
+
+_Miss Kitty._ Yes, always. But (_confidentially_) they do come out
+strong for a "ben."
+
+[_They retire to their lodgings for a little quiet tea and a rest._
+
+ * * * * *
+
+A MID-WINTER'S NIGHT'S DREAM.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Surely AUGUSTUS DRURIOLANUS has triumphed and beaten the record! For the
+last nine years it has been the cry, "There never was so good a
+Pantomime as _this_ one," and now again the shout is repeated. _Jack and
+the Beanstalk_ is the eleventh of the series, and the best. "How it is
+done?" only AUGUSTUS can answer. The Annual (no longer, alas! written by
+the gentle and genial E. L. B.) has an excellent book. It contains
+something of all sorts. Now we have SHAKSPEARE'S fairy-land with
+_Oberon_, _Titania_, and _Puck_, then HARRY NICHOLL'S Royal Palace with
+Mr. HERBERT CAMPBELL and Miss HARRIET VERNON, then Madame KATTI LANNER'S
+Market Place, with a number of the most promising of her pupils (of all
+ages too, from the tiny child to the "ceased-growing-a-long-while-ago")
+then Mrs. SIMPSON'S Back Garden, with Mr. GEORGE CONQUEST junior as a
+giant, Mr. DAN LENO as a widow, and the Brothers GRIFFITHS as the Cow
+Company Limited, and lastly, controlling the whole, we have Mr. AUGUSTUS
+HARRIS who is seen at his very best when we reach the Giant's Library
+and the realms of Olympus.
+
+And this Pantomime is not only beautiful but amusing. It has two grand
+processions, but this year, by good stage-management, neither is
+tedious. The Shakspearean Heroines do a little play-acting between
+whiles, and the gods and goddesses, or rather their attendants,
+manoeuvre before the eye becomes weary of watching their approach. For
+instance, Mars has scarcely time to swagger down to the foot-lights in
+the most appropriate and approved fashion, before he finds himself
+called upon to stand near a private box on the prompt side, to be well
+out of the way of his dancing terpsichorean satellites. _Lady Macbeth_
+has hardly "taken the daggers" before _King Lear_ (Mr. LORRAINE) is
+bringing a furtive tear to the eyes of all beholders (_one_ tear is
+sufficient at Christmastide) by his touching pantomime in the presence
+of his three fair daughters.
+
+Then, too, Mr. HARRY PAYNE has _his_ chance, and makes the most of it.
+It was quite pleasant to see the Clown on Boxing-Night, and those who
+left the theatre mindful of trains that will not delay the hours fixed
+for their departure, must have determined (if they were wise people) to
+come again to witness the remainder of the performances. Then those who
+liked acrobats had the Leopold Troupe, and a strong man who lifted up a
+horse (but did not have his own name, or the name of his charger, on the
+programme) to delight them. And it was also a pleasing reflection to
+remember that the entertainment was the result of solid hard work,
+combined with excellent judgment and taste. Paterfamilias could say to
+Young Hopeful home for the holidays, "See here, my lad, the lessee of
+our National Theatre could never have caused us so much thorough
+enjoyment had he not worked with a will that you will do well to imitate
+when you return to Dr. SWISHTALES' Academy at the conclusion of the
+Christmas vacation." And so all can cry with genuine enthusiasm:--"_Ave_,
+AUGUSTUS! _Ave_, DRURIOLANUS! _Ave_, IMPERATOR! _Ave! Ave!_--and NICHOLLS."
+
+ * * * * *
+
+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 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI
+VOLUME 98, JANUARY 4, 1890***
+
+
+******* This file should be named 25685-8.txt or 25685-8.zip *******
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+<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1" />
+<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Punch, or the London Charivari Volume 98, January 4, 1890, by Various</title>
+<style type="text/css" media="screen">
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+<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, Punch, or the London Charivari Volume 98,
+January 4, 1890, by Various, Edited by Francis Burnand</h1>
+<pre>
+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 <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre>
+<p>Title: Punch, or the London Charivari Volume 98, January 4, 1890</p>
+<p>Author: Various</p>
+<p>Editor: Francis Burnand</p>
+<p>Release Date: June 3, 2008 [eBook #25685]</p>
+<p>Language: English</p>
+<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p>
+<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI VOLUME 98, JANUARY 4, 1890***</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<h3>E-text prepared by Malcolm Farmer, V. L. Simpson,<br />
+ and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br />
+ (http://www.pgdp.net)</h3>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr class="full" />
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<div id="img0001">
+<a href="images/ill-0001.png">
+<img src="images/ill-0001-th.png" alt="Punch, Vol. 98"
+title="Click for larger image." width="389" height="500" />
+</a>
+</div>
+
+<div class="center bold ln-ht2">
+<span class="small">LONDON:</span><br />
+<span>PUBLISHED AT THE OFFICE, 85, FLEET STREET,</span><br />
+<span class="xx-small">AND SOLD BY ALL BOOKSELLERS.</span><br />
+<span class="x-small">1890.</span>
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+<p class="pagenum">[Pg. iii]</p>
+
+<div id="img0002">
+<a href="images/ill-0002.png">
+<img src="images/ill-0002-th.png" alt="Preface"
+title="Click for larger image." width="700" height="547" />
+</a>
+</div>
+
+<p>It was a Midsummer Night, and Mr. <span class="smcap">Punch</span> in his
+<i>sanctum</i> dreamed a Dream! To adapt the Laureate's lay:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class=" bold poem" style="width:20em;margin:auto;">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span>He read, before his eyelids dropt their shade,</span>
+<span class="in1em">The <i>Lusiads</i> of <span class="smcap">Camoens</span>, long ago</span>
+<span>Sung by the Lusitanian bard, who made</span>
+<span class="in1em">Great <span class="smcap">Gama's</span> glories glow.</span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>It was the wondrous tale of <span class="smcap">Stanley</span> which had turned the Sage's
+attention to the pages of the great Epic of Commerce.</p>
+
+<p>He had read:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem bold" style="width:22em;margin:auto;">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span>"Afric behold! alas, what altered view!</span>
+<span>Her lands uncultured, and her sons untrue;</span>
+<span>Ungraced with all that sweetens human life,</span>
+<span>Savage and fierce, they roam in brutal strife;</span>
+<span>Eager they grasp the gifts which culture yields,</span>
+<span>Yet naked roam their own neglected fields."</span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>And though even Africa has considerably changed since the year of grace
+1497, when "daring <span class="smcap">Gama</span>" went "incessant labouring round the
+stormy Cape," Mr. <span class="smcap">Punch</span> thought of that great gloom-shrouded
+Equatorial Forest and its secular savage dwarf-denizens, and mused how
+much there was yet for our modern <span class="smcap">Gamas</span> to do in the Dark
+Continent.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. <span class="smcap">Punch</span> found himself in the lovely "Isle of Venus," the
+delicious floral Paradise which the Queen of Love, "the guardian goddess
+of the Lusian race," created "amid the bosom of the watery waste," as "a
+place of glad repast and sweet repose," for the tired home-returning
+<span class="smcap">Gama</span> and his companions.</p>
+
+<p>"Of 'glad repast,'" said a familiar voice, "there is plenty and to
+spare; but for the 'sweet repose,' 'tis not to be found in this 'Isle of
+Banqueting.'"</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. <span class="smcap">Stanley</span>, I presume?" said the Sage.</p>
+
+<p>"You <i>cannot</i> presume," rejoined H. M. neatly. "But some of these
+gregarious dinner-givers <i>do</i>, and sometimes,&mdash;yes, sometimes I'm
+afraid I let them see that I'm aware of it."</p>
+
+<p>"As fame-preoccupied, country-loving <span class="smcap">Gama</span>, wearied of the
+'feasts, interludes, and chivalrous entertainments,' with which 'the
+taste of that age demonstrated the joy of Portugal,' might perchance
+have snubbed some too importunate Don. 'The compliments of the Court and
+the shouts of the streets were irksome to him,' says the chronicle."</p>
+
+<p>"<span class="smcap">Salisbury</span> is not quite a Prince <span class="smcap">Henry</span> apparently,"
+remarked the modern <span class="smcap">Gama</span>. "He and his father <span class="smcap">John</span> did
+not find the discoveries and acquisitions of their heroic compatriot
+'embarrassing.' 'The arts and valour of the Portuguese had now made a
+great impression on the minds of the Africans. The King of
+<span class="smcap">Congo</span>, a dominion of great extent, sent the sons of some of his
+principal officers to be instructed in arts and religion.' This was four
+hundred years ago! And now
+<span class="pagenum">[Pg. iv]</span>
+the Portuguese can be safely snubbed and sat upon, even by a
+<span class="smcap">Salisbury</span>! But if your prudent Premier doesn't 'stiffen his
+back' a bit, with regard to the tougher and tentative Teuton, 'the arts
+and valour' of the Britishers will not make as great an impression on
+the minds of the Africans as your ill-used East African Company could
+desire."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't be <i>too</i> downhearted, <span class="smcap">Henry</span>," smiled the Sage.
+"Much dining-out doth breed dyspepsia, and atrabilious views are apt to
+be a <i>leetle</i> lop-sided."</p>
+
+<p>"Right, <i>Mr. Punch!</i>" said a musical but somewhat mournful voice,
+that of the great but ill-starred <span class="smcap">Luis de Camoens</span> himself. "I
+wrote much of my <i>Lusiadas</i> in Africa.</p>
+
+<p class="center"><b>"'One hand the pen, and one the sword employed.'</b></p>
+
+<p>"<i>My</i> reward was banishment, imprisonment, poverty, neglect, and a
+miserable death in an almshouse. 'Soon after, however,' says the record, 'many
+epitaphs honoured his memory: the greatness of his merit was universally
+confessed, and his <i>Lusiad</i> was translated into various languages.' 'The
+whirligig of time brings its revenges,' as your own illustrious Singer saith.
+How think you myself and my friend <span class="smcap">Vasco de Gama</span>
+here look upon the fallen state of our beloved native land? In vain he ventured
+for her. In vain I warningly sang:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem" style="width:20em; margin:auto;">
+<div class="stanza">
+<b>"'Chill'd by my nation's cold neglect, thy fires<br />
+Glow bold no more, and all thy rage expires.<br />
+Shall haughty Gaul or sterner Albion boast<br />
+That all the Lusian fame in thee is lost!'"</b><br />
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>Mr. <span class="smcap">Punch</span> bowed low to the illustrious Poet and the indomitable
+Explorer. "Greatness," said he, courteously, "claims reverence, and
+misfortune respect. Your countrymen, Gentlemen, have been rather angry
+with me of late. But 'sterner Albion' may be proud indeed if she
+produces such men as <span class="smcap">Gama</span> to perform heroic deeds, and such
+poets as <span class="smcap">Camoens</span> to sing them." The stately Shades saluted. "I
+wonder," said <span class="smcap">Gama</span>, "who will be the Laureate of the later
+Ulysses, and which of your singers will write the <i>Epic of
+Africa?</i>"</p>
+
+<p>"I fear," said Mr. <span class="smcap">Punch</span>, "that at present they are too busy
+smiting the Socialistic big drum, or tickling their sonorous native
+tongue into tinkling triolets. In this Island of Venus&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I beg pardon," interrupted <span class="smcap">Stanley</span>, with a sardonic smile.
+"This Island of <i>Menus</i>, you mean, Mr. <span class="smcap">Punch</span>!"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. <span class="smcap">Punch</span> looked around. The Acidalian roses and myrtles, the
+purple lotos and the snowy thorn, the yellow pod-flowers and the waving
+palms, the vermeil apples and the primrosed banks, of <span class="smcap">Camoens'</span>
+somewhat zone-confounding vision, had indeed vanished, and in their
+stead seemed to wave snowy <i>serviettes</i>, to flow champagne-streams,
+to glitter goblets, and to glow orchid-laden <i>épergnes</i>.</p>
+
+<p>"Humph!" said the Sage. "The prose of the <i>Restaurateur</i>&mdash;which by
+the way sounds as if I were alluding to the literature of the
+Restauration,&mdash;hath insensibly superseded the poesy of the peerless
+Portuguese. Well, Gentlemen, in vain may 'sterner Albion' glory in the
+profusion of wealth and the pomp of 'glad repast,' unless also she
+breeds heroes to adventure and poets to celebrate. As you sang, my
+<span class="smcap">Camoens</span>&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem bold" style="width:20em;margin:auto;" >
+<div class="stanza">
+"'The King or hero to the Muse unjust,<br />
+Sinks as the nameless slave, extinct in dust.'
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>"For the present, <span class="smcap">Stanley's</span> arm and Mr. <span class="smcap">Punch's</span> pen
+suffice to save the State from such abasement. But let our timid
+Premiers and our temporising Press remember the glories of <span class="smcap">Gama</span>
+and <span class="smcap">Camoens</span>, and the fate of ungrateful and indolent
+Lusitania!"</p>
+
+<p>"The Pen of Mr. <span class="smcap">Punch</span>!" cried <span class="smcap">Camoens</span>. "Ah, long have
+the valiant <span class="smcap">Vasco</span> and myself desired to peruse its sparkling
+and patriotic outpourings.".</p>
+
+<p>"And you, my <span class="smcap">Stanley</span>," proceeded Mr. <span class="smcap">Punch</span>, "said to
+the banqueting Fishmongers, 'I am an omnivorous reader whenever an
+opportunity presents itself.' It presents itself here and now. Take,
+Illustrious Trio, the greatest gift that even <span class="smcap">Punch</span> can bestow
+upon you, to wit his</p>
+
+<div class="xx-large center bold">"Ninety-Eighth Volume!"</div>
+
+<div id="img0003">
+<a href="images/ill-0003.png">
+<img src="images/ill-0003-th.png" alt="" title="Click for larger image."
+width="600" height="343" />
+</a>
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p class="pagenum">[Pg. 1]</p>
+
+<div id="img001">
+<a href="images/ill-001.png">
+<img src="images/ill-001-th.png" alt=""
+title="Click for larger image." width="700" height="384" />
+</a>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="half" />
+
+<h2 class="sans">JOURNAL OF A ROLLING STONE.</h2>
+
+<p class="smcap center">Fourth Entry.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Have</span> for a considerable time past been "eating dinners,"
+preparatory to being "called" to the Bar. Understand now what people
+mean when they talk of a "<i>Digest</i> of the Law."</p>
+
+<p>Find myself (on dining for the first time this Term) in a mess with a
+highly-intelligent native of India, another man up from Oxford, and an
+African law-student. Latter black and curly, but good-natured. Says
+there is a great demand for English-made barristers on the Gambia, and
+he's going to supply the demand.</p>
+
+<p>Have wild and momentary idea of going to the Gambia myself.</p>
+
+<p>"Why," I ask this enterprising negro, "why don't English
+barristers&mdash;white ones, I mean&mdash;go and practise there?" Feel that
+reference to colour is not felicitous; still, difficult to express the
+idea otherwise.</p>
+
+<p>African doesn't mind. Shows all his teeth in a broad grin, and says,
+"Inglis men die, die like flies, on the Gambia."</p>
+
+<p>Curious to see the Hindoo law-student looking contemptuously at African
+ditto. Hindoo a shrewd fellow. Talks English perfectly. Rather given to
+gesticulate. Waves his arms, and incidentally knocks over a bottle of
+the claret&mdash;at twelve shillings a dozen&mdash;which the Inn kindly supplies
+to wash down the mutton and baked potatoes at our two-shilling meal.
+Hindoo laughs. Tells me, confidentially, that he has practised as a
+"Vakeel" (whatever that is) in some small country town in Bengal. Why
+has he come over here? Oh, to be called. Will get more work and more
+pay, when a full-fledged barrister. Gather that there are rival
+"Vakeels" in Bengal whom he wants to cut out. He intends "cutting
+out"&mdash;to India&mdash;directly he <i>is</i> called.</p>
+
+<p>Oxford man tells me in a whisper that "he believes he's a Baboo."
+Indeed! Don't feel much wiser for the information.</p>
+
+<p>African getting jealous of Baboo's fluent talk. Rather a sportive negro,
+it appears. Says he goes to theatre nearly every night. Has a regular
+and rather festive programme for each day.</p>
+
+<p>"Lecture, morning," he says; "afternoon, walk in Park, sometimes ride.
+Night, theatre or music-hall." He grins like an amiable gargoyle. In his
+own country African law-student must be quite a lady-killer&mdash;a sort of
+Gambia masher.</p>
+
+<p>Incidentally mention to Hindoo difficulty of law of Real Property,
+especially "Rule in <span class="smcap">Shelley's</span> Case."</p>
+
+<p>It seems Hindoo understands matter perfectly. Begins to explain the
+"Rule in <span class="smcap">Shelley's</span> Case." Does it by aid of two salt-cellars
+(to represent the parties) and a few knives (to represent collateral
+relatives).</p>
+
+<p>African masher more jealous. Laughs at Baboo's explanation. He and Baboo
+exchange glances of hatred. African, who is carving, brandishes knife.
+Is he going to plunge it into heart of Baboo just as he's got through
+his explanation? Looks like it, as the shilling claret seems to have got
+into place where we may suppose African's brain to be. However, dinner
+ends without a catastrophe.</p>
+
+<p>After attending the usual amount of legal lectures, the "Final" Exam.
+approaches.</p>
+
+<p>Get through the papers pretty well. Thank goodness, no question asked so
+far about that "Rule in <span class="smcap">Shelley's</span> Case," which is my "<i>Pons
+Asinorum</i>!" It's a "rule" to which I take great exception.</p>
+
+<p>There's a "<i>Vivâ Voce</i>" to come, however. Hate <i>vivâ voce.</i>
+Two examiners sit at end of Hall&mdash;students called up in batches of
+half-a-dozen at a time. Very nervous work. Find, when my turn comes,
+that the intelligent Baboo is in the same lot! Appears to like the
+position. From his manner I should judge that he'd been doing nothing
+all his life but being examined by fifties in a cave, like this.</p>
+
+<p>Examiner who tackles me has an eye-glass.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, Mr. <span class="smcap">Joynson</span>," he remarks, putting it up to survey me
+better, "if you were a trustee, &amp;c., &amp;c., <i>what would you do?</i>"</p>
+
+<p>Flattered at the supposition. Answer in a way which seems to partly
+satisfy Examiner, who passes on to next man with a new question. In a
+minute or two my turn comes round again.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, Mr. <span class="smcap">Joynson</span>," Examiner again observes cheerfully, "let me
+ask you quite an elementary question in Real Property. Just give me a
+brief, a very brief, explanation of what you understand by the Rule in
+<span class="smcap">Shelley's</span> Case!"</p>
+
+<p>But I don't understand anything by it! It's a piece of hopeless legal
+gibberish to me. I stammer out some attempt at an answer, and see Baboo
+looking at me with a pitying, almost reproachful, glance. "Didn't I," he
+seems to say, "explain it all to you once at dinner? Do you really mean
+to say that you've forgotten the way in which I arranged the
+salt-cellars and the table-knives, and how I turned the whole case
+inside out for your benefit?"</p>
+
+<p>I admit the offence. Examiner seems surprised at my ignorance&mdash;informs
+me that "it's as easy as A.B.C." It may be&mdash;to him and the Baboo.</p>
+
+<p>Baboo, being asked the same question, at once explains the whole matter,
+this time without the aid of the salt-cellars and cutlery.</p>
+
+<p>A few days later go to look at result of examination. Result, for me&mdash;a
+Plough!</p>
+
+<p>Walking away dejectedly&mdash;("homeward the Plough-man wends his legal
+way"&mdash;as <span class="smcap">Gray</span> sympathetically put it)&mdash;meet African
+law-student, who grins insanely. <i>He</i> doesn't sympathise in my
+defeat. Shows his fine set of ivories and says:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Me failed too. Me go back Gambia. You come back with me!"</p>
+
+<p>Tell him I'm not "called" yet: certainly not called to Gambia.</p>
+
+<p>"Then come to Alhambra!" he suggests, as a sort of alternative to a
+visit to the tropics.</p>
+
+<p>African student evidently still a masher. Decline his invitation with
+thanks. Wouldn't be seen with him at a theatre for worlds! Depressed.
+Don't even look in at Gaiety Bar. No Gaiety for <i>me</i>&mdash;and no "Bar"
+either, it seems.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p class="pagenum">[Pg. 2]</p>
+
+<div id="img002">
+<a href="images/ill-002.png">
+<img src="images/ill-002-th.png" alt=""
+title="Click for larger image." width="420" height="500" />
+</a>
+<h3 class="sans">SOME NEW YEAR'S PROBLEMS.</h3>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="half" />
+
+<h2>THE BUSY (J.) B.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">(<i>Not by Dr. Watts.</i>)</p>
+
+<div class="poem" style="width:20em;margin:auto;">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span>How doth the busy Jerry Builder</span>
+<span class="in1em">Improve his shining hoard,</span>
+<span>And gather money, basely earned,</span>
+<span class="in1em">From every opening Board!</span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span>How skilfully he scamps his "shells"!</span>
+<span class="in1em">How deftly spreads his sludge!</span>
+<span>And labours to defend his sells</span>
+<span class="in1em">By special-pleading fudge!</span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span>With what serene, well-practised skill,</span>
+<span class="in1em">He "squares" Surveyors too!</span>
+<span>For Jobbery finds some baseness still</span>
+<span class="in1em">For venal hands to do.</span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span>Whether for work or healthful play</span>
+<span class="in1em">His buildings will not last.</span>
+<span>May he be called some day, some day,</span>
+<span class="in1em">To strict account at last!</span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="half" />
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Parliamentary Intelligence.</span>&mdash;According
+to the announcement in the <i>Gazette</i>, the
+<span class="smcap">Speaker</span> will take the Chair in the House of
+Commons on Tuesday, the 11th of February,
+when the new Session opens. But, as a
+matter of fact, <i>The Speaker</i> will be on the
+book-stalls on Saturday next, the 4th of
+January, entering upon what promises to be
+a useful and prolonged Session. Thereafter
+<i>The Speaker</i> will take the book-stall once a
+week regularly, there being Saturday sittings
+throughout the year. <i>The Speaker</i> will, of
+course, be on the side of Law and "Order!
+Order!"</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p class="pagenum">[Pg. 3]</p>
+
+<div id="img003">
+<a href="images/ill-003.png">
+<img src="images/ill-003-th.png" alt=""
+title="" width="425" height="400" />
+</a>
+<h3 class="sans">STUDIES IN REPARTEE.</h3>
+
+<p><i>She.</i> "<span class="smcap">How silent you are! What are you thinking of?</span>"</p>
+<p><i>He.</i> "<i><span class="smcap">Nothing!</span></i>"</p>
+<p><i>She.</i> "<span class="smcap">Egotist!</span>"</p>
+</div>
+
+<h2>A BALLAD OF EVIL SPEED.</h2>
+
+<p class="center"><i>A Cool Collation of Several Bards.</i></p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span><span class="smcap">I would</span> I had not met you, Sweet,</span>
+<span>I wish you had been far away</span>
+<span>From where, in Upper Wimpole Street,</span>
+<span>We two foregather'd yesterday.</span>
+<span>Somewhere in that unlovely street</span>
+<span>Summer's lost beauty, hid away,</span>
+<span>Woke at the music of your feet,</span>
+<span>And sought the little girl in grey.</span>
+<span>Around your head the sunbeams play&mdash;</span>
+<span>Home to the depths of your deep eyes</span>
+<span>Soft shadows of the woodland stray,</span>
+<span>Then sparkle with a quick surprise,</span>
+<span>As when the branch-entangled skies</span>
+<span>Shake from the depths of woodland stream,</span>
+<span>Awhile in laughing circles gleam,</span>
+<span>Then spread to heaven's peace again.</span>
+<span>Amber and gold, and feathery grey,</span>
+<span>You suited well the Autumn day,</span>
+<span>The muffled sun, the misty air,</span>
+<span>The weather like a sleepy pear.</span>
+<span>And yet I wish that you had been</span>
+<span>Afar, beside the sounding main,</span>
+<span>Or swaying daintily the rein</span>
+<span>Of mettled courser on the green,</span>
+<span>So I had passed, and passed unseen.</span>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<span>For I arose, from dreams of thee,</span>
+<span>So late that morn, my matin tea</span>
+<span>Was cold as mutton two days cooked;</span>
+<span>As in the looking-glass I looked,</span>
+<span>Methought the razor need not wreak</span>
+<span>Its wonted vengeance on my cheek,</span>
+<span>Nor clear the shadow from my chin</span>
+<span>Till to the City I had been.</span>
+<span>Thus, horrid with a nascent beard,</span>
+<span>By chance through Wimpole Street I steered,</span>
+<span>Trusting therein to shun contempt</span>
+<span>Of who abhor a man unkempt.</span>
+<span>For like a mother-bird, who's caught</span>
+<span>The cant of modern woman's thought,</span>
+<span>My restless tie refused to sit,</span>
+<span>And restless fingers vainly sought</span>
+<span>To soothe the silkworm's stubborn toil.</span>
+<span>But only did its candour soil,</span>
+<span>And suffered none the less from it.</span>
+<span>For all my neck, and head no less,</span>
+<span>Owned to a vague unquietness,</span>
+<span>As when the vagrant spiderlet</span>
+<span>Has spread at large her filmy net</span>
+<span>To catch the moonbeams, wavering white,</span>
+<span>At the front gate on Autumn night.</span>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<span>Then suddenly the sombre way</span>
+<span>Rock'd like the darkness struck by day,</span>
+<span>The endless houses reel'd from sight,</span>
+<span>And all romance and all delight</span>
+<span>Came thronging in a glorious crowd.</span>
+<span>So, when the drums are beating loud,</span>
+<span>The mob comes sweeping down the Mall,</span>
+<span>Far heralding the bear-skins tall.</span>
+<span>Glorious in golden clothing comes</span>
+<span>The great drum-major with his drums</span>
+<span>And sun-smit brass of trumpets; then</span>
+<span>The scarlet wall of marching men,</span>
+<span>Midmost of which great Mavors sets</span>
+<span>The colours girt with bayonets.</span>
+<span>Yes, there were you&mdash;and there was I,</span>
+<span>Unshaved, and with erratic tie,</span>
+<span>And for that once I yearn'd to shun</span>
+<span>My social system's central sun.</span>
+<span>How could a sloven slave express</span>
+<span>The frank, the manly tenderness</span>
+<span>That wraps you round from common thought,</span>
+<span>And does not ask that you should know</span>
+<span>The love that consecrates you so.</span>
+<span>No; furtive, awkward, restless, cold,</span>
+<span>I basely seemed to set at naught</span>
+<span>That sudden bliss, undreamt, unsought.</span>
+<span>What must she think, my girl of gold?</span>
+<span>I dare not ask; and baffled wit</span>
+<span>Droops&mdash;till sweet hopes begin to flit&mdash;</span>
+<span>Like butterflies that brave the cold&mdash;</span>
+<span>Perhaps she didn't notice it.</span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="half" />
+
+<h2>"JUST TO OBLIGE BENSON."</h2>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Dear Mr. Punch</span>,&mdash;It was not a very happy thought to send me to
+the Globe Theatre at this festive season of the year to witness the
+representation of a piece, called by the management, for some reason or
+other, "a <i>faërie</i> comedy." Now, I like a Burlesque, and I am fond
+of a Pantomime, but a mixture of blank verse and tom-foolery is rather
+too much for me, especially when that mixture is not redeemed by a plot
+of any interest. Nothing can be more absurd than the story (save the
+mark!) told in this particularly uninteresting play. It appears that a
+"Duke!" of Athens married the Queen of the Amazons, and during the
+nuptial rejoicings ordered the daughter of one of his subjects to "die
+the death" unless she transferred her affections from her own true love
+to a gentleman of her father's choice. The gentleman of her father's
+choice was beloved in his turn by a school friend of his would-not-be
+betrothed, and the play which lasted from eight until nearly midnight,
+was devoted to setting this simple (in more senses than one)
+<i>imbroglio</i> right. By a clumsy device, <i>Oberon</i> King of the
+Fairies bewitched the two pairs of lovers during their sleep in a wood,
+so that one lady had two admirers and the other none. All that was
+needed to bring the piece to a conclusion was to have another exercise
+of magic when the couples paired off, of course, in a manner calculated
+to give satisfaction to their friends and relations. This was the entire
+plot. There was now and again some attempts to turn amateur theatricals
+into feeble ridicule by the introduction of a party of village
+histrions, who were allowed to "clown" to their heart's content; and
+<i>voilà tout</i>!</p>
+
+<p>The mounting is excellent. Nothing better than "a Wood near Athens,"
+painted by Mr. <span class="smcap">Hemsley</span>, has been seen since Professor
+<span class="smcap">Herkomer</span> startled the world with his representation of village
+life at Bushey. The music, too (chiefly from the works of
+<span class="smcap">Mendelssohn</span>), is always charming, and frequently appropriate.
+Moreover, Mr. <span class="smcap">Benson</span>, no doubt feeling that his author required
+every possible support, has introduced a number of pretty dances,
+executed by comely maidens of ages varying from seven to (say)
+seven-and-twenty.</p>
+
+<p>Of course, such a play required very ordinary acting. Mr.
+<span class="smcap">Benson</span> was, on the whole, a gentlemanly <i>Lysander</i>, Mr.
+<span class="smcap">Otho Stuart</span> a dignified <i>Oberon</i>, and Mr. <span class="smcap">Stephen
+Phillips</span> quite the best of the village histrions. Miss <span class="smcap">Grace
+Geraldine</span> was also fanciful in the <i>rôle</i> of a sort of gnome.
+But, allowing for the music, and the scenery, and the acting, the piece
+itself was unquestionably dull. And now, having given you my unbiassed
+opinion, I beg to sign myself, <span class="smcap">Your Unprejudiced Contributor</span>.</p>
+
+<p>P.S.&mdash;I am told that the author of <i>A Midsummer's Dream</i> wrote a number of other plays
+of considerable merit. This I challenge, the more especially as those who swear by
+Mr. <span class="smcap">William Shakspeare</span> candidly admit that his name is a deterrent rather than an
+attraction on a play-bill.</p>
+
+<hr class="half" />
+
+<p class="center">1890 <span class="smcap">Almanack for Funny Dogs.</span>&mdash;Evidently "Whitty Curs' Almanack."</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p class="pagenum">[Pg. 4]</p>
+
+<h2 class="sans">MR. PUNCH'S MORAL MUSIC-HALL DRAMAS.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">No. II.&mdash;JOE, THE JAM-EATER.</p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>A Musical Spectacular and Sensational Interlude.</i> (<i>Dedicated
+respectfully to Mr. McDougall and the L. C. C.</i>)</p>
+
+<div id="img004">
+<a href="images/ill-004.png">
+<img src="images/ill-004-th.png" alt=""
+title="" width="264" height="400" />
+</a>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">The</span> Music-hall Dramatist, like <span class="smcap">Shakspeare</span>, has a right
+to take his material from any source that may seem good to him. <i>Mr.
+Punch</i>, therefore, makes no secret of the fact, that he has based the
+following piece upon the well-known poem of "<i>The Purloiner</i>," by
+the Sisters <span class="smcap">Jane</span> and <span class="smcap">Ann Taylor</span>, who were <i>not</i>,
+as might be too hastily concluded, "Song and Dance Duettists," but two
+estimable ladies, who composed "cautionary" verses for the young, and
+whose works are a perfect mine of wealth for Moral Dramatists. In this
+dramatic version the Author has tried to infuse something of the old
+Greek sense of an overruling destiny, without detriment to prevailing
+ideas of moral responsibility. Those who have the misfortune to be born
+with a propensity for illicit jam, may learn from our Drama the terrible
+results of failing to overcome it early in life.</p>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Dramatis Personæ</span></p>
+
+<p><i>Jam-loving Joe.</i> By that renowned Melodramatic Serio-Comic,
+Miss <span class="smcap">Connie Curdler</span>.</p>
+
+<p><i>Joe's Mother</i> (<i>the very part for</i> Mrs. <span class="smcap">Bancroft</span>
+<i>if she can only be induced to make her re-appearance</i>).</p>
+
+<p><i>John, a Gardener.</i> By the great Pink-eyed Unmusical Zulu.</p>
+
+<p><i>Jim-Jam, the Fermentation Fiend.</i> By Mr. <span class="smcap">Beerbohm Tree</span>
+(<i>who has kindly consented to undertake the part</i>).</p>
+
+<p><i>Chorus of Plum and Pear Gatherers, from the Savoy</i> (<i>by kind
+permission of</i> Mr. <span class="smcap">D'Oyly Carte</span>).</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Scene.</span>&mdash;<i>The Store-room at sunset, with view of exterior of
+Jam Cupboard, and orchard in distance.</i></p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Joe</span>.</p>
+
+<p>"As <span class="smcap">Joe</span> was at play, Near the cupboard one day, When he thought
+no one saw him but himself."&mdash;<i>Vide Poem.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>Joe</i> (<i>dreamily</i>). 'Tis passing strange that I so partial am<br />
+To playing in the neighbourhood of
+Jam!</p>
+
+<p>
+[<i>Here</i> Miss <span class="smcap">Curdler</span> <i>will introduce her great humorous
+Satirical Medley, illustrative of the Sports of Childhood, and entitled,
+"Some Little Gymes we all of us 'ave Plied;" after which, Enter</i>
+<span class="smcap">Joe's</span> <i>Mother, followed by</i> <span class="smcap">John</span> <i>and the
+Chorus, with baskets, ladders, &amp;c., for gathering fruit.</i>
+</p>
+
+<p>"His Mother and <span class="smcap">John</span>, To the garden had gone, To gather ripe
+pears and ripe plums."&mdash;<i>Poem.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>Joe's Mother</i> (<i>with forced cheerfulness</i>)&mdash;<br />
+
+Let's hope, my friends, to find our pears and plums,<br />
+Unharmed by wopses, and untouched by wums.<br />
+</p>
+
+<p>
+[<i>Chorus signify assent in the usual manner by holding up the right
+hand.</i>
+</p>
+
+<p>
+<i>Solo</i>&mdash;<span class="smcap">John.</span><br />
+
+Fruit when gathered ripe, is wholesome&mdash;<br />
+Otherwise if eaten green.<br />
+Once I knew a boy who stole some&mdash;<br />
+[<i>With a glance at</i> <span class="smcap">Joe</span>, who turns aside to conceal his confusion.<br />
+His internal pangs were keen!
+</p>
+
+
+<p><i>Chorus</i> (<i>virtuously</i>). 'Tis the doom of all who're mean,<br />
+Their internal pangs are keen!</p>
+
+
+
+<p><i>Joe's Mother</i> (<i>aside</i>). By what misgivings is a mother tortured!<br />
+I'll keep my eye on <span class="smcap">Joseph</span> in the orchard.<br />
+[<i>She invites him with a gesture to follow.</i></p>
+
+
+<p><i>Joe</i> (<i>earnestly</i>). Nay, Mother, here I'll stay till you have done.<br />
+Temptation it is ever best to shun!</p>
+
+<p><i>Joe's M.</i> So laudable his wish, I would not cross it&mdash;<br />
+(<i>Mysteriously.</i>) He knows not there are jam-pots in yon
+closet!</p>
+
+<p><i>Chorus.</i> Away we go tripping,<br />
+From boughs to be stripping<br />
+Each pear, plum, and pippin<br />
+Pomona supplies!<br />
+
+When homeward we've brought 'em,<br />
+Those products of Autumn,<br />
+We'll carefully sort 'em<br />
+(<i>One of our old Music-hall rhymes</i>),<br />
+According to size! [<i>Repeat as they caper
+out.</i></p>
+
+<p>[<span class="smcap">Joe's</span> Mother, <i>after one fond, lingering look behind, follows: the
+voices are heard more and more faintly in the distance. Stage
+darkens; the last ray of sunset illumines key of jam-cupboard
+door.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>Joe.</i> At last I am alone! Suppose I tried<br />
+That cupboard&mdash;just to see what's kept inside?<br />
+[<i>Seems drawn towards it by some fatal fascination.</i><br />
+There <i>might</i> be Guava jelly, and a plummy cake,<br />
+For such a prize I'd laugh to scorn a stomach-ache!<br />
+[<i>Laughs a stomach-ache to scorn.</i><br />
+And yet (<i>hesitating</i>) who knows?&mdash;a pill?... perchance&mdash;a powder!<br />
+(<i>Desperately</i>). What then? To scorn I'll laugh them&mdash;even
+louder!</p>
+
+<p>[<i>Fetches chair and unlocks cupboard. Doors fall open with loud
+clang, revealing Interior of Jam Closet</i> (<i>painted by</i> <span class="smcap">Hawes
+Craven</span>). <span class="smcap">Joe</span> <i>mounts chair to explore shelves. Vide poem,
+"How sorry I am, He ate raspberry jam, And currants that
+stood on the shelf!"</i></p>
+
+<p><i>Joe</i> (<i>speaking with mouth full, and back to audience</i>). 'Tis raspberry&mdash;of all the jams my favourite;<br />
+I'll clear the pot, whate'er I have to pay for it!<br />
+And finish up with currants from this shelf....<br />
+Who'll ever see me?</p>
+
+<p><i>The Demon of the Jam Closet</i> (<i>rising slowly from an immense
+pot of preserves</i>). None&mdash;except Myself!</p>
+
+<p>[<i>The cupboard is lit up by an infernal glare</i> (<i>courteously lent by the
+Lyceum Management from "Faust" properties</i>)<i>; weird music;</i>
+<span class="smcap">Joe</span> <i>turns slowly and confronts the Demon with awestruck eyes;</i>
+N.B.&mdash;<i>Great opportunity for powerful acting here.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>The Demon</i> (<i>with a bland sneer</i>). Pray don't mind
+<i>me</i>&mdash;I will await your leisure.</p>
+
+<p><i>Joe</i> (<i>automatically</i>). Of your acquaintance, Sir, I've not
+the pleasure.<br />
+Who <i>are</i> you? Wherefore have you intervened?</p>
+
+<p><i>The Demon</i> (<i>quietly</i>). My name is "Jim-Jam";
+occupation&mdash;fiend.</p>
+
+<p><i>Joe</i> (<i>cowering limply on his chair</i>). O Mr. Fiend, I
+<i>know</i> it's very wrong of me!</p>
+
+<p><i>Demon</i> (<i>politely</i>). Don't mention it&mdash;but please to come
+"along of" me?</p>
+
+<p><i>Joe</i> (<i>imploringly</i>). Do let me off this once,&mdash;ha! you're
+relenting,<br />
+You smile&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><i>Demon</i> (<i>grimly</i>). 'Tis nothing but my jam fermenting!<br />
+[<i>Catches</i> <span class="smcap">Joe's</span> <i>ankle, and assists
+him to descend.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>Joe.</i> You'll drive me mad!</p>
+
+<p><i>Demon</i> (<i>carelessly</i>). I <i>may</i>&mdash;before I've done with
+you!</p>
+
+<p><i>Joe.</i> What do you want?</p>
+
+<p><i>Demon</i> (<i>darkly</i>). To have a little fun with you!<br />
+Of fiendish humour now I'll give a specimen.</p>
+
+<p>[<i>Chases him round and round Stage, and proceeds to smear him
+hideously with jam.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>Joe</i> (<i>piteously</i>). Oh, don't! I feel <i>so</i> sticky.
+<i>What</i> a mess I'm in!</p>
+
+<p><i>Demon</i> (<i>with affected sympathy</i>). That <i>is</i> the worst of jam&mdash;it's apt to stain you.<br />
+[<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Joe</span>, <i>as he frantically endeavours to remove the traces of his crime.</i><br />
+I see you're busy&mdash;so I'll not detain you!</p>
+
+<p>[<i>Vanishes down star-trap with a diabolical laugh. Cupboard-doors
+close with a clang; all lights down.</i> <span class="smcap">Joe</span> <i>stands gazing blankly
+for some moments, and then drags himself off Stage. His
+Mother and</i> <span class="smcap">John</span>, <i>with Pear- and Plum-gatherers bearing laden
+baskets, appear at doors at back of Scene, in faint light of
+torches.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>Re-enter Joe</i> (<i>bearing a candle and wringing his hands</i>). Out,
+jammed spot! What&mdash;will these hands <i>never</i> be clean? Here's
+the smell of the raspberry jam still! All the powders of Gregory
+cannot unsweeten this little hand.... (<i>Moaning.</i>) Oh, oh, oh!</p>
+
+<p>[<i>This passage has been accused of bearing too close a resemblance to
+one in a popular Stage Play; if so, the coincidence is purely
+accidental, as the Dramatist is not in the habit of reading such
+profane literature.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>Joe's Mother.</i> Ah! what an icy dread my heart benumbs!<br />
+See&mdash;stains on all his fingers, <i>and</i> his thumbs!</p>
+
+<p>"What <span class="smcap">Joe</span> was about, His Mother found out, When she look'd at his fingers
+and thumbs."&mdash;<i>Poem again.</i></p>
+
+<p>Nay, <span class="smcap">Joseph</span>&mdash;'tis your mother ... speak to
+her!</p>
+
+<p><i>Joe</i> (<i>tonelessly, as before</i>). Lady, I know you not (<i>touches lower
+part of waistcoat</i>); but, prithee, undo this button. I think I have
+jam in all my veins, and I would fain sleep. When I am gone, lay
+me in a plain white jelly-pot, with a parchment cover, and on the
+<span class="pagenum">[Pg. 5]</span>
+label write&mdash;&mdash;but come nearer, I have a secret for your ear alone
+... there are strange things in some cupboards! Demons should
+keep in the dust-bin. (<i>With a ghastly smile.</i>) I know not what ails
+me, but I am not feeling at all well.</p>
+
+<p>[<span class="smcap">Joe's</span> Mother <i>stands a few steps from him, with her hands twisted in
+her hair, and stares at him in speechless terror.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>Joe</i> (<i>to the Chorus</i>). I would shake hands with you all, were not
+my fingers so sticky. We eat marmalade, but we know not what it
+is made of. Hush! if <span class="smcap">Jim-Jam</span> comes again, tell him that I am not
+at home. Loo-loo-loo!</p>
+
+<p><i>All</i> (<i>with conviction</i>). Some shock has turned his
+brine!</p>
+
+<p><i>Joe</i> (<i>sitting down on floor, and weaving straws in his hair</i>). My
+curse upon him that invented jam. Let us all play Tibbits.</p>
+
+<p>[<i>Laughs vacantly: all gather round him, shaking their heads, his</i>
+Mother <i>falls fainting at his feet, as Curtain falls upon a strong
+and moral, though undeniably gloomy dénoûment.</i></p>
+
+<hr class="half" />
+
+<h2 class="sans">THE SAVOYARDS.</h2>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Messrs. Gilbert and Sullivan's</span>
+<i>Gondoliers</i> deserves to rank immediately after <i>The Mikado</i>
+and <i>Pinafore</i> bracketed. The <i>mise-en-scène</i> is in every way
+about as perfect as it is possible to be. Every writer of
+<i>libretti</i>, every dramatist and every composer, must envy the Two
+Savoyards, their rare opportunities of putting their own work on their
+own stage, and being like the two Kings in this piece, jointly and
+equally monarchs of all they survey, though, unlike these two
+potentates, they are not their subjects' servants, and have only to
+consider what is best for the success of their piece, and to have it
+carried out, whatever it is, literally regardless of expense. And what
+does their work amount to? Simply a Two-Act Opera, to play
+two-hours-and-a-half, for the production of which they have practically
+a whole year at their disposal. They can go as near commanding success
+as is given to mortal dramatist and composer, and for any comparative
+failure they can have no one to blame but themselves, the pair of
+them.</p>
+
+<div id="img005a">
+<a href="images/ill-005a.png">
+<img src="images/ill-005a-th.png" alt=""
+title="Click for larger image." width="287" height="450" />
+</a>
+<p>"Once upon a time there were two Kings."</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Whatever the piece may be, it is always a pleasure to see how
+thoroughly the old hands at the Savoy enter into "the fun of the
+thing," and, as in the case of Miss <span class="smcap">Jessie Bond</span> and Mr. <span class="smcap">Rutland
+Barrington</span>, absolutely carry the audience with them by sheer
+exuberance of spirits.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. <span class="smcap">Rutland Barrington</span> possesses a ready wit and keen appreciation
+of humour; and, as this is true also of Miss <span class="smcap">Jessie Bond</span>,
+the couple, being thoroughly in their element with such parts as
+<i>The Gondoliers</i> provide for them, legitimately graft their own fun
+on the plentiful stock already supplied by the author, and are literally
+the life and soul of the piece.</p>
+
+<p>On the night I was there a Miss <span class="smcap">Norah
+Phyllis</span> took Miss <span class="smcap">Ulmar's</span> part
+of <i>Gianetta</i>, and played it, at short notice, admirably. She
+struck me as bearing a marked facial resemblance to Miss <span
+class="smcap">Fortesque</span>, and is a decided acquisition.
+Mr. <span class="smcap">Denny</span>, as the Grand Inquisitor (a part
+that recalls the Lord High Chancellor of the ex-Savoyard, <span
+class="smcap">George Grossmith</span>, now entertaining "on his
+own hook"), doesn't seem to be a born Savoyard, <i>non nascitur</i> and
+<i>non fit</i> at present. Good he is, of course, but there's no
+spontaneity about him. However, for an eccentric comedian merely to do
+exactly what he is told, and nothing more, yet to do that, little or
+much, well, is a performance that would meet with <i>Hamlet's</i>
+approbation, and Mr. <span class="smcap">Gilbert's</span>. Mr. <span
+class="smcap">Frank Wyatt</span>, as "the new boy" at the Savoy
+School, doesn't, as yet, seem quite happy; but it cannot be expected
+that he should feel "quite at home," when he has only recently arrived
+at a new school.</p>
+
+<p>Miss <span class="smcap">Brandram</span> is a thorough Savoyard;
+<i>nihil tetigit quod non ornavit</i>, and her embroidery of a part
+which it is fair to suppose was written to suit her, is done in her own
+quaint and quiet fashion.</p>
+
+<div id="img005b">
+<a href="images/ill-005b.png">
+<img src="images/ill-005b-th.png" alt=""
+title="Click for larger image." width="320" height="350" />
+</a>
+<p>Rutland Pooh-Bah-rington, after signing his
+re-engagement, takes his Bond, and sings, "Again we come to the
+Savoy."</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>A fantastically and humorous peculiarly Gilbertian idea is the
+comparison between a visit to the dentist's, and an interview with the
+questioners by the rack, suggested by the Grand Inquisitor Don <span
+class="smcap">Alhambra</span> who says that the nurse is waiting
+in the torture-chamber, but that there is no hurry for him to go and
+examine her, as she is all right and "has all the illustrated
+papers."</p>
+
+<div id="img005c">
+<a href="images/ill-005c.png">
+<img src="images/ill-005c-th.png" alt=""
+title="Click for larger image." width="285" height="350" />
+</a>
+<p class="center">George Grossmith on his own Hook.</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>There are ever so many good things in the Opera, but the best of all,
+for genuinely humorous inspiration of words, music and acting, is the
+quartette in the Second Act, "In a contemplative fashion." It is
+excellent. Thank goodness, <i>encores</i> are disencouraged, except
+where there can be "No possible sort of doubt, No possible doubt
+whatever" (also a capital song in this piece) as to the unanimity of the
+enthusiasm. There is nothing in the music that catches the ear on a
+first hearing as did "<i>The Three Little Maids</i>," or "<i>I've got a
+Song to Sing O!</i>" but it is all charming, and the masterly
+orchestration in its fulness and variety is something that the least
+technically educated can appreciate and enjoy. The piece is so brilliant
+to eye and ear, that there is never a dull moment on the stage or off
+it. It is just one of those simple <i>Bab-Ballady</i> stories which,
+depending for its success not on any startling surprise in the plot, but
+on general excellence, may, especially on account of the music, be
+safely put down on the play-goer's list for "a second hearing."</p>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p><span class="smcap">Christmas Box.</span></p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<hr class="half" />
+
+<h2>RUSSIAN ART.</h2>
+
+<p>From <i>The Morning Post</i>, last week, we learn that the Russian
+Imperial Academy of Arts, has passed a law prohibiting Jews to
+become members of its artistic body. By the Nose of <i>Mr. Punch</i>,
+but this is too bad, and too bigoted for any century, let alone the
+"so-called Nineteenth." If such a rule, or rather such an exception,
+could have been possible in England within the last twenty years,
+what a discouragement it would have been for all the Royal Academicians,
+who would thereby <i>have lost Hart!</i> Dear good old <span class="smcap">Solomon</span>!
+He was a poor <span class="smcap">Hart</span> that often rejoiced, and if he was not
+the best painter in the world, he was just about the worst punster.
+We hope to hear that our Royal Academicians, with their large-hearted
+and golden-tongued President at their head, will send a
+friendly expostulation to their Russian Brothers in oil, and obtain
+the abrogation of this unreasonable legislation, which is one effect
+of an anti-semitic cyclone, fit only for the <i>Jew-ventus Mundi</i>, but
+not for the world at its maturity.</p>
+
+<hr class="quarter"/>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p>"<span class="smcap">Dot and go One</span>"&mdash;no, see <i>Dot</i>, and go several times again to
+see our <span class="smcap">Johnnie Toole</span> at his own Theatre, before he leaves for the
+Antipodes. The good old farce of <i>Toole in the Pigskin</i> is well-mounted,
+and is, of course, one of the pieces on which he will rely,
+as especially appropriate to Horse-tralia.</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p class="pagenum">[Pg. 6]</p>
+<div id="img006">
+<a href="images/ill-006.png">
+<img src="images/ill-006-th.png" alt=""
+title="Click for larger image." width="700" height="458" />
+</a>
+<h3>FRESH TO THE COUNTRY.</h3>
+
+<p><i>Young Lady.</i> "<span class="smcap">Can you tell me where the
+Meet is</span>?"</p>
+
+<p><i>Butcher's Boy</i> (<i>a recent importation from London</i>).
+"<span class="smcap">Yes, Mum. I jist took it hup to the 'All this
+mornin'</span>!"</p>
+
+</div>
+
+<hr class="half" />
+
+<h2>THE START.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span><span class="smcap">Off!</span> Yes; but inexperienced feet,</span>
+<span>With pace that's fast and a style that's neat,</span>
+<span class="in1em">At first can scarcely be expected</span>
+<span>O'er frozen waters to glide and fleet.</span>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<span>"<i>Have them on, Sir?</i>" Old Time was there,</span>
+<span>With the shining steels and the ready chair.</span>
+<span class="in1em">His latest pupil is passing yonder,</span>
+<span>No more the ice-locked waters to dare.</span>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<span><i>His</i> feet are tired and his knees are stiff,</span>
+<span><i>His</i> breath comes low in a wheezy whiff.</span>
+<span class="in1em">He'll now "lay up," like a worn-out wherry.</span>
+<span>'Tis yours to start like a new-launched skiff.</span>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<span>How many a novice that Skate-man old</span>
+<span>Has helped to onset alert and bold!</span>
+<span class="in1em">How many a veteran worn seen vanish,</span>
+<span>Aching with effort and pinched with cold!</span>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<span>And you, young novice, 'tis now your turn</span>
+<span>Your skates to try and your steps to learn.</span>
+<span class="in1em">You long to fly like the skimming swallow,</span>
+<span>To brave the breathless "scurry" you burn.</span>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<span>He knows, he knows, your aged guide!</span>
+<span>The screws are fixed, and the straps are tied,</span>
+<span class="in1em">And he looks sharp out for the shambling stagger,</span>
+<span>The elbows wobbling, the knees too wide.</span>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<span>But boyhood's hopeful, and youth has pluck;</span>
+<span>And now, when scarcely your steel hath struck</span>
+<span class="in1em">The slithery ice in your first bold venture,</span>
+<span><i>Punch</i>, friendly watcher, will wish you luck!</span>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<span>He too has seen some novices start,</span>
+<span>And knows, however you play your part,</span>
+<span class="in1em">The "outside edge," and attendant perils,</span>
+<span>Will tax your sinews and test your heart.</span>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<span>But most on the ice does the old saw hold&mdash;</span>
+<span>"Be bold, be bold, but be not <i>too</i> bold!"</span>
+<span class="in1em">Though there's many a rotten patch marked "Danger!"</span>
+<span>Young hearts are warm if the weather be cold.</span>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<span>Bravo, youngster! Steady! Strike out!</span>
+<span>Caution, yes, but not palsying doubt.</span>
+<span class="in1em">Courage! and you&mdash;ere your course you finish&mdash;</span>
+<span>May beat "Fish" <span class="smcap">Smart</span> at a flying bout!</span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="half" />
+
+<h2>ROBERT'S KRISMUS HIM.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span>How werry warious is the reasons why</span>
+<span class="in1em">We welcoms Crismus with a ringing cheer!</span>
+<span>The Skoolboy nos his hollidays is nigh,</span>
+<span class="in1em">And treats the hale stout Porter to sum Beer.</span>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<span>The Cook and Ousemaid smiles upon the Baker,</span>
+<span class="in1em">Who takes his little fee without no blush,</span>
+<span>Likewise upon the Butcher and Shoo Maker</span>
+<span class="in1em">Who makes their calls dispite the Sno or Slush.</span>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<span>The Dustman cums a crying out for "Dust,"</span>
+<span class="in1em">But nos full well that isn't wot he seeks,</span>
+<span>And gits his well-earned shilling with the fust,</span>
+<span class="in1em">And smiles on Mary as his thanks he speaks.</span>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<span>The Groser smart, as likewise his Green Brother,</span>
+<span class="in1em">In their best close cums with a modest ring,</span>
+<span>And having got their orders, one and tother,</span>
+<span class="in1em">Smilingly asks for jest one other thing.</span>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<span>The Postman's dubbel nock cums to each door,</span>
+<span class="in1em">Whether he has a Letter got or no,</span>
+<span>The stingy Master thinks his call a bore,</span>
+<span class="in1em">And gives his paltry shilling werry slow.</span>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<span>The jowial Waiter shows unwonted joy!</span>
+<span class="in1em">And hails his Crismus with becoming glee!</span>
+<span>Knowing full well <i>his</i> plezzurs newer cloy,</span>
+<span class="in1em">Who gets from ewery Gest a dubble fee!</span>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<span>Why are not all men like the jowial Waiter,</span>
+<span class="in1em">Allers content with what kind Fortune brings,</span>
+<span>Whether it's Turtel Soop or a meer tater,</span>
+<span class="in1em">He sets a pattern to Lord Mares and Kings.</span>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<span>Then let us all while Crismus time we're keeping,</span>
+<span class="in1em">Whether we barsks in fortune's smile or frown,</span>
+<span>Be thankful for the harwest we are reaping,</span>
+<span class="in1em">And give a thort to them whose luck is down.</span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p><span class="smcap">Robert.</span></p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<hr class="half" />
+<blockquote>
+<p><span class="smcap">Historical Parallels.</span>&mdash;Two Directories.
+The French <i>Directoire</i> was a short-lived stopgap of not unmixed
+benefit to France, but our English Directory, yclept <span
+class="smcap">Kelly's</span>, for 1890,
+directorily, or indirectorily, supplies all our wants, comes always "as
+a boon and a blessing to men," and is within a decade of becoming a hale
+and hearty centenarian. <i>Vivat</i> <span
+class="smcap">Kelly</span>!</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p class="pagenum">[Pg. 7]</p>
+<div id="img007">
+<a href="images/ill-007.png">
+<img src="images/ill-007-th.png" alt=""
+title="Click for larger image." width="700" height="539" />
+</a>
+<h3>THE START.</h3>
+</div>
+
+<p class="pagenum">[Pg. 8]</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p class="pagenum">[Pg. 9]</p>
+
+<h2 class="sans">UNTILED; OR, THE MODERN ASMODEUS.</h2>
+
+<p class="in3em">"Très volontiers," repartit le démon. "Vous aimez les tableaux
+changeans: je veux vous contenter."</p>
+
+<p class="ralign"><i>Le Diable Boiteux.</i></p>
+
+<div id="img009">
+<a href="images/ill-009.png">
+<img src="images/ill-009-th.png" alt=""
+title="Click for larger image." width="400" height="345" />
+</a>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center">XV.</p>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span><span class="smcap">Down</span> through the night we drifted slow, the rays</span>
+<span>From London's countless gas-jets starred the haze</span>
+<span class="in2em">O'er which we darkly hovered.</span>
+<span>Broad loomed the bulk of <span class="smcap">Wren's</span> colossal dome</span>
+<span>Through the grey mist, which, like a sea of foam,</span>
+<span class="in2em">The sleeping city covered.</span>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<span>"The year," the Shadow murmured, "nears its close.</span>
+<span>Lo! how they swarm in slumber, friends and foes,</span>
+<span class="in2em">Kindred and utter strangers,</span>
+<span>The millions of this Babylon, stretched beneath</span>
+<span>The shroud of night, and drawing peaceful breath,</span>
+<span class="in2em">Unstirred by dreads and dangers."</span>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<span>"But not by dreams," I answered, "Canst reveal,</span>
+<span>O Shade, the vagrant thoughts that throng and steal</span>
+<span class="in2em">About these countless pillows?</span>
+<span>Or are these sleeping souls as shut to thee</span>
+<span>As is the unsounded silence of the sea</span>
+<span class="in2em">To those who brave its billows?"</span>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<span>"Dreams?" smiled the Shadow. "What I see right well</span>
+<span>Your eyes may not behold. Yet can I tell</span>
+<span class="in2em">Their import as unravelled</span>
+<span>By subtler sense, whilst through these souls they pass!</span>
+<span>What said the demon to <i>Don Cléophas</i></span>
+<span class="in2em">As o'er Madrid they travelled?</span>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<span>"Such dreams as haunt us near the glimmering morn</span>
+<span>Shadow forth truth; these through the Gates of Horn</span>
+<span class="in2em">Find passage to the sleeper.</span>
+<span>Prophetic? Nay! But sense therein may read</span>
+<span>The heart's desire, in pangs of love or greed;</span>
+<span class="in2em">What divination deeper?</span>
+</div>
+<div class="stanza">
+<span>"Yon Statesman, struggling in the nightmare's grip,</span>
+<span>Fears he has let Time's scanty forelock slip,</span>
+<span class="in2em">And lost a great occasion</span>
+<span>Of self-advancement. How that mouth's a-writhe</span>
+<span>With hate, on platforms oft so blandly blithe</span>
+<span class="in2em">In golden-tongued persuasion!</span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span>"He, blindly blundering, as through baffling mist,</span>
+<span>Is a professional philanthropist,</span>
+<span class="in2em">Rosy-gilled, genial, hearty.</span>
+<span>A mouthing Friend of Man. He dreams he's deep</span>
+<span>In jungles of self-interest, where creep</span>
+<span class="in2em">Sleuth-hounds of creed and party.</span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span>"That sleek-browed sleeper? 'Tis the Great Pooh-pooh,</span>
+<span>The 'Mugwump' of the <i>Weekly Whillaloo</i>,</span>
+<span class="in2em">A most superior creature;</span>
+<span>Too high for pity and too cold for wrath;</span>
+<span>The pride of dawdlers on the Higher Path</span>
+<span class="in2em">Suffuses every feature.</span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span>"Contemptuous, he, of clamorous party strife,</span>
+<span>And all the hot activities of life;</span>
+<span class="in2em">But most the Politician</span>
+<span>He mocks&mdash;for 'meanness.' How the prig would gasp</span>
+<span>If shown the slime-trail of that wriggling asp</span>
+<span class="in2em">In his own haunts Elysian!</span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span>"He dreams Creation, cleared of vulgar noise,</span>
+<span>Is dedicate to calm æsthetic joys,</span>
+<span class="in2em">That he is limply lolling</span>
+<span>Amidst the lilies that toil not nor spin,</span>
+<span>Given quite to dandy scorn, and dainty sin,</span>
+<span class="in2em">And languor, and 'log-rolling.'</span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span>"The head which on that lace-trimmed pillow lies</span>
+<span>Is fair as Psyche's. Yes, those snow-veiled eyes</span>
+<span class="in2em">Look Dian-pure and saintly.</span>
+<span>Sure no Aholibah could own those lips,</span>
+<span>Through whose soft lusciousness the bland breath slips</span>
+<span class="in2em">So fragrantly and faintly.</span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span>"That up-curved arm which bears the silken knot</span>
+<span>Of dusky hair, is it more free from blot</span>
+<span class="in2em">Than is her soul who slumbers?</span>
+<span>Her visions? Of 'desirable young men,'</span>
+<span>Who crowd round her like swine round Circe's pen</span>
+<span class="in2em">In ever-swelling numbers.</span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span>"Of Love? Nay, but of lovers. Love's a lean</span>
+<span>And impecunious urchin; lovers mean</span>
+<span class="in2em">Gifts, worship, triumph&mdash;Money!</span>
+<span>The Golden Apple is the fruit to witch</span>
+<span>Our modern Atalantas. To be rich,</span>
+<span class="in2em">Live on life's milk and honey;</span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span>"Stir crowds, charm royalties,&mdash;these are the things</span>
+<span>Psyche most cares for, not her radiant wings</span>
+<span class="in2em">Or Cupid's shy caresses.</span>
+<span>She dreams of conquests that a world applauds,</span>
+<span>Or a Stage-wardrobe with a thousand gauds,</span>
+<span class="in2em">And half-a-hundred dresses.</span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span>"Not so, that other sleeper, stretched at length,</span>
+<span>A spectre stripped of charm and shorn of strength,</span>
+<span class="in2em">In yon dismantled chamber.</span>
+<span>Dreams she of girlhood's couch, the lavender</span>
+<span>Of country sheets, a roof where pigeons whirr</span>
+<span class="in2em">And creamy roses clamber?</span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span>"Of him the red-faced swain whose rounded eyes</span>
+<span>Dwelt on her charms in moony ecstacies?</span>
+<span class="in2em">Of pride, of shame, of sorrow?</span>
+<span>Nay, of what now seems Nature's crowning good;</span>
+<span>Hunger-wrought dreams are hers of food&mdash;food&mdash;food.</span>
+<span class="in2em">She'll wake from them to-morrow;</span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span>"Wake fiercely famishing, savagely sick,</span>
+<span>The animal in man is quick, so quick</span>
+<span class="in2em">To stir and claim full forage.</span>
+<span>Let famine parch the hero's pallid lips,</span>
+<span>Pinch Beauty's breast, then watch the swift eclipse</span>
+<span class="in2em">Of virtue, sweetness, courage!</span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span>"Cynical? Sense leaves that to callow youth</span>
+<span>And callous age; plain picturing of the truth</span>
+<span class="in2em">Seems cynical,&mdash;to folly.</span>
+<span>Friend, the true cynic is the shallow mime</span>
+<span>Who paints humanity devoid of crime,</span>
+<span class="in2em">And life supremely 'jolly,'</span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span>"See such an one, in scented sheets a-loll!</span>
+<span>Rich fare and rosy wine have lapped his soul</span>
+<span class="in2em">In a <i>bon-vivant's</i> slumbers.</span>
+<span>His pen lies there, the ink is scarcely dry</span>
+<span>With which he sketched the smug philosophy</span>
+<span class="in2em">Of Cant and Christmas Numbers.</span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span>"He dreams of&mdash;holly, home, exuberant hearts,</span>
+<span>Picturesque poverty, the toys and tarts</span>
+<span class="in2em">Of childhood's hope?&mdash;No, verily!</span>
+<span>'Tis a dream-world of pleasure, power, and pelf,</span>
+<span>Visions of the apocalypse of Self,</span>
+<span class="in2em">O'er which his soul laughs merrily."</span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span>"Enough!" I cried. "The morning's earliest gleams</span>
+<span>Will soon dissolve this pageantry of dreams.</span>
+<span class="in2em">The New Year's at our portals.</span>
+<span>Unselfishness, and purity, and hope,</span>
+<span>Dawn with it through the dream-world's cloudy cope,</span>
+<span class="in2em">Even on slumbering mortals."</span>
+</div>
+
+<div class="stanza">
+<span>"Granted," the Shadow answered. "Poppy-Land</span>
+<span>Is not <i>all</i> Appetite and Humbug bland.</span>
+<span class="in2em">Myriads of night-capped noddles</span>
+<span>We must leave unexplored. Their owners oft</span>
+<span>Are saints austere, or sympathisers soft,</span>
+<span class="in2em">Truth's types and Virtue's models!"</span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center">(<i>To be continued.</i>)</p>
+
+<hr class="half"/>
+
+<h2>ANSWERS TO CORRESPONDENTS.</h2>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Preparing to meet an Epidemic.</span>&mdash;If you sit
+all day in your great coat, muffled up to the eyes in a woollen
+comforter and with your feet in constantly replenished mustard and hot
+water, as you propose, you will certainly be prepared, when it makes its
+appearance, to encounter the attack of the Russian Epidemic Influenza,
+that you so much dread. Your idea of taking a dose of some advertised
+Patent Medicine every other hour, as a preventive, is by no means a bad
+one, and your resolution to shut yourself up in your house, see no
+friends, open no letters, read no newspapers, and live entirely on
+tinned meats for three months, might possibly secure you from the
+chances of an attack; but on the whole we should rather advise you to
+carry out your plan of leaving the country altogether and seeking a
+temporary asylum in South Central Africa until you are assured that the
+contagion has blown over, as the preferable one. Anyhow you might try
+it. Meanwhile, certainly drench your clothes with disinfectants, fill
+your hat with cotton wool steeped in spirits of camphor, and if you meet
+any friends in the street, prevent them addressing you, by keeping them
+at arm's-length with your walking-stick, or, better still, if you have
+it with you, your opened umbrella. They may or they may not understand
+your motive, and when they do, though they may not respect you for your
+conduct, it is just possible that they may not seriously resent it. Your
+precautionary measures, if scrupulously carried out, should certainly
+ensure your safety. Put them in hand at once, and be sure you let us
+hear from you next Spring informing us, on the whole, how you have got
+on.</p>
+
+<hr class="half"/>
+
+<blockquote>
+<p><span class="smcap">What Pocket-Books to Get.</span>&mdash;Mark us;
+<span class="smcap">Ward's</span>.</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p class="pagenum">[Pg. 10]</p>
+
+<div id="img010">
+<a href="images/ill-010.png">
+<img src="images/ill-010-th.png" alt=""
+title="Click for larger image." width="700" height="469" />
+</a>
+<h3>HUNTING HINTS.&mdash;&mdash;HOW TO KEEP THE THING GOING DURING A SNOW.</h3>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="half" />
+
+<h2 class="sans">OUR BOOKING-OFFICE</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+<div class="stanza">
+<span><span class="smcap">The Baron's</span> Booking-Office is still decked about with holly,</span>
+<span>For the Season that at any rate's conventionally "jolly,"</span>
+<span>Is by no means wholly over, and the very hard-worked Baron</span>
+<span>Feels rather like a sort of tired-out literary Charon,</span>
+<span>With an over-laden ferry-boat, and passengers too numerous.</span>
+<span>For seasonable "novelties"&mdash;and "notions" quaint and humorous</span>
+<span>Still crowd on him, and claim his constant critical attention,</span>
+<span>Some may escape his notice, but a few more he must mention</span>
+<span><span class="smcap">Marcus Ward's</span> are good as usual, and his "Christmas Cheque Book"'s funny;</span>
+<span>Though rather a sardonic "sell" to parties short of money.</span>
+<span><span class="smcap">Castell Brothers'</span> Cards are charming, but the words "Printed in Germany,"</span>
+<span>The patriotic Baron irk, or may he turn a Merman! He</span>
+<span>Can't see why pictured prettiness should be beyond <i>home</i>-printing.</span>
+<span>He doesn't want to dogmatise, but really can't help <i>hinting!</i></span>
+<span><i>Scout's Head</i>, by <span class="smcap">Langbridge</span>, boys will like. <span class="smcap">Jerome K. Jerome's</span> <i>Stage-Land</i>,</span>
+<span>Which <span class="smcap">Bernard Partridge</span> illustrates, might tickle e'en the sage land</span>
+<span>Of Puritan Philistia at Clapham-Rise or Barnsbury.</span>
+<span>And now let us the memory of Christmas Cards and yarns bury</span>
+<span>In a right bowl of stingo, in the which the Baron cheerily</span>
+<span>Drinks to his readers heartily, sincerely, and Happy-New-Year-ily!</span>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>Once upon a time Mr. <span class="smcap">Lewis Carroll</span> wrote a marvellously grotesque,
+fantastic, and humorous book called <i>Alice in Wonderland</i>,
+and on another occasion he wrote <i>Through the Looking-Glass</i>, in
+which <i>Alice</i> reappeared, and then the spring of Mr. <span class="smcap">Lewis Carroll's</span>
+fanciful humour apparently dried up, for he has done nothing
+since worth mentioning in the same breath with his two first works;
+and if his writings have been by comparison watery, unlike water,
+they have never risen by inherent quality to their original level.
+Of his latest book, called <i>Sylvie and Bruno</i>, I can make neither head
+nor tale. It seems a muddle of all sorts, including a little bit of
+Bible thrown in. It will be bought, because <span class="smcap">Lewis Carroll's</span> name
+is to it, and it will be enjoyed for the sake of Mr. <span class="smcap">Furniss's</span> excellent
+illustrations, but for no other reason, that I can see. I feel
+inclined to carol to <span class="smcap">Carroll</span>, "O don't you remember sweet <span class="smcap">Alice</span>?"
+and, if so, please be good enough to wake her up again, if you can.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">M. Fréderic Mayer's</span> International Almanack takes my breath
+away. It is overwhelmingly international. Most useful to the
+International Theatre-goer, as there are plans of all the principal
+theatres in Europe, with the seats numbered, so that you have only
+to wire (answer paid) to the Théâtre Français for <i>fauteuil d'orchestre</i>
+Number 20, to Drury Lane in the same way, to the Operahaus, Berlin
+("Open Haus" sounds so internationally hospitable) for <i>Parquet</i>
+Number 200 (so as to get a good view), to the Wallner Theater, Berlin,
+for something of the same sort, or to La Scala, Milan, for the sixth
+<i>Sedie d'orchestra</i> on the left (as the numbers are not given&mdash;why?)
+and you'll be accommodated. Then with ease the internationalist
+can learn when the Moon is full, <i>Pleine Lune</i>, <i>Vollmond</i>, <i>Luna Piena</i>
+and <i>Luna Ilena</i> in five languages. The Italian, the Spaniard, the
+French, the Englishman, the German and the Dutchman can find
+out all about the different watering-places of Europe, each one in
+his own native tongue, and all about "the Court of Arches" in
+London and Madrid. There is the Jewish and also the Mahommedan
+Calendar, but I see nothing about the Greek Kalends. I am
+not quite sure that the Bulgarians will be quite satisfied, and I
+should say, that the Aborigines of Central Africa will have a distinct
+grievance, which <span class="smcap">M. Fréderic Mayer</span> will rectify after an interview
+with Mr. <span class="smcap">Stanley</span>. It's a wonderful production, and as it gives
+postal rates and cab-fares in ever so many languages, it will be of
+great practical value to the traveller. But no list of cab-fares is
+perfect without a model row with the driver in eight languages,
+including some bad language and directions as to the shortest route
+to the nearest police court.</p>
+
+<p>Our good Doctor <span class="smcap">Roose</span> <i>in urbe</i>, has just published a <i>brochure</i>,
+dealing with the origin, treatment, and prevention (for there is
+apparently no cure) of the fell disease to which, and for a multitude of
+whose victims, Father <span class="smcap">Damien</span> died a martyr. If in the Doctor's treatment
+of this subject after his own peculiar fashion <i>à la</i> <span class="smcap">Roose</span>, he can
+help to alleviate present suffering and materially assist the crusade
+now being undertaken against this common enemy, he will have
+contributed his share of energy in starting 1890 hopefully.</p>
+
+<p>Those who suffer from indigestion at this festive season, and wish
+to intensify the effects of the malady, will do well to read a new
+book entitled <i>Master of his Fate</i>, by <span class="smcap">J. MacLaren Cobban</span>, who, if
+he does not write well, that is, judging his style from a hypercritical
+purist's point of view, yet contrives to interest you with a story
+almost as sensational as that of <i>Hyde and Jekyl</i>. The <i>Master of his
+Fate</i> might have had for its second title, <i>Or, The Accomplished
+Modern Vampire</i>, the hero being a sort of a vampire, but not one of
+the good old school.</p>
+
+<p class="ralign"><span class="smcap">Baron De Book-Worms &amp; Co.</span></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p class="pagenum">[Pg. 11]</p>
+<div id="img011">
+<a href="images/ill-011.png">
+<img src="images/ill-011-th.png" alt=""
+title="Click for larger image." width="700" height="459" />
+</a>
+<h3 class="sans">"THE SERVANTS."</h3>
+
+<p><i>Lady Patroness</i> (<i>Registry Office of Charitable Society</i>).
+"<span class="smcap">And why are you leaving your present
+Place?</span>"</p>
+
+<p><i>Small Applicant.</i> "<span class="smcap">Please, 'M, the Lady said
+she can do with a less experienced Servant!</span>"</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="half" />
+
+<h2>AMONG THE AMATEURS.</h2>
+
+<p class="center">No. II.&mdash;PREPARATION.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Scene.</span>&mdash;<i>The Theatre of the provincial town of Blankbury. A
+company of Amateurs, the "Thespian Wanderers," are rehearsing
+the well-known Comedy of "Heads or Tails?" Amongst
+them are our friends</i> <span class="smcap">Buckstone Boldero, Tiffington
+Spinks, Charlie Gushby</span>, <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Harry Hall</span>. <i>Besides these,
+we may note</i> Colonel <span class="smcap">Thomas Clumk</span>, <i>an ex-military
+Amateur, who devotes more time to acting small parts and talking
+big about them than he ever did to soldiering. Then there is</i>
+<span class="smcap">Andrew Jarp</span>, <i>a portly and elderly partner in a considerable
+firm of Solicitors, and an actor who, by long practice, has grown
+perfect in the part of a Family Butler. His office is in the City, and
+he drives down to it every morning in a private brougham, fitted
+with a looking-glass, by the help of which he studies the air and
+deportment characteristic of a modern Seneschal. He is a man
+of few words, off as well as on the stage; but his eyes flash fury
+if he hears his favourite Art derided by the scoffer.</i> <span class="smcap">Horatio
+Spuffil</span> <i>is also in the cast. He has dabbled in literature,
+but has lately abandoned such frivolity, and been elected a
+Member of the London County Council. A few rising Amateur
+Supers complete the male portion of the cast. The Ladies' parts
+are played by professional Actresses, of the Theatres Royal
+generally, who happen to be, as they pleasantly express it in
+their advertisements in the "Era," "resting"</i>&mdash;Miss <span class="smcap">Dorothy
+Shuttle</span>, Miss <span class="smcap">Amelia Slimper</span>, <i>who are new to the Amateurs,</i>
+and <span class="smcap">Kitty Larkings</span>, <i>who has "assisted" the "Thespian Wanderers"
+before.</i> <span class="smcap">Boldero</span> <i>is Stage Manager. The Stage is
+occupied by</i> <span class="smcap">Spinks</span> (<i>as</i> Colonel <span class="smcap">Debenham</span>, <i>a retired Indian
+Officer</i>), <span class="smcap">Gushby</span> (<i>as</i> <span class="smcap">Tom Tilbury</span>, <i>a comic Country Squire</i>),
+<i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Dorothy Shuttle</span> (<i>as</i> <span class="smcap">Belinda</span>, <i>Nurserymaid in the family
+of</i> Lord <i>and</i> Lady <span class="smcap">Shorthorn</span>, <i>represented respectively by</i>
+<span class="smcap">Boldero</span> <i>and</i> Miss <span class="smcap">Amelia</span>).
+</p>
+
+<p><i>Boldero</i> (<i>from the front of the house</i>). Stop a moment! You know
+we really must settle what we are to do about those two children that
+<i>Belinda's</i> got to wheel on in the double perambulator. I asked the
+Duchess of <span class="smcap">Middlesex</span> to lend us her twins for a couple of nights,
+but she writes to say they've just got the measles. Isn't there any
+one here who can help us? [<i>The three Ladies titter.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>Gushby</i> (<i>in whose breast the leading part played by</i> <span class="smcap">Spinks</span> <i>still
+rankles</i>). Why not let <span class="smcap">Spinks</span> do it? He's always wanting to
+"double" parts, and here's a splendid chance for him.</p>
+
+<p><i>Spinks</i> (<i>coldly</i>). That's <i>very</i> funny&mdash;really <i>very</i> funny, <span class="smcap">Gushby</span>.
+It's a pity "Colonel <span class="smcap">Debenham</span>" (<i>alluding to his own rôle in the
+comedy</i>) isn't a <i>clown's</i> part. I'd give it up to you right off, if it
+was. Ha, ha! (<i>bitterly</i>).</p>
+
+<p><i>Colonel Clumk</i>. There's a man in my old regiment who's got two
+red-haired brats; but he wants ten shillings a night for 'em.</p>
+
+<p><i>Boldero.</i> That's pretty stiff. However, I'll inspect them to-morrow.
+Let's get on a bit now. Come, <span class="smcap">Spinks</span>!</p>
+
+<p><i>Spinks.</i> Where were we? (<i>With an air of intense annoyance.</i>)
+These constant interruptions put one off so. Oh, yes, I remember.
+(<i>Resumes rehearsing the part of</i> "Colonel <span class="smcap">Debenham</span>.") "Nursemaid,
+take those squalling infants away. I'm surprised at Lady <span class="smcap">Shorthorn</span>
+permitting them in the drawing-room. Wheel them away at
+once&mdash;at once, I say; or I'll make curry-powder of the lot of you!"</p>
+
+<p><i>Miss Dorothy Shuttle</i> (<i>as</i> "<span class="smcap">Belinda</span>"). "Well, I'm sure; I never
+was so spoken to afore. (<i>To her imaginary children.</i>) Did the
+horrid man scold them, then, pretty dears? (<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Debenham</span>.) You
+a Colonel? You ain't fit to be a General in the Salvation Army.
+Imperence!" [<i>Exit, wheeling an imaginary perambulator.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>Boldero</i> (<i>enthusiastically</i>). Excellent! That couldn't have been
+done better. When we get the perambulator and the babies, it's
+bound to go. (Miss <span class="smcap">Dorothy Shuttle</span> <i>is much pleased, and foresees
+several stalls being taken on the occasion of her next benefit.</i>) Now,
+then (<i>to</i> <span class="smcap">Spinks</span>, <i>who thinks it a mistake that a Stage Manager should
+stop to praise anybody, with one exception, of course, at rehearsal</i>),
+<span class="smcap">Spinks</span>, hurry up a bit, hurry up!</p>
+
+<p><i>Spinks.</i> My dear <span class="smcap">Boldero</span>, I'm perfectly ready to begin as soon
+as ever the talking stops. I know my cues, I fancy; but it's quite
+hopeless to get on if <i>everybody</i> wants to talk at the same moment.
+(<i>Resumes his part as</i> "Colonel <span class="smcap">Debenham</span>," <i>shaking his fist at the
+departing</i> <span class="smcap">Belinda</span>.) "Impertinent minx! (<i>Turns furiously on</i>
+<span class="smcap">Gushby</span>, <i>who is on the stage in the character of</i> <span class="smcap">Tilbury</span>, <i>the comic</i>
+<span class="pagenum">[Pg. 12]</span>
+<i>Squire.</i>) And you, Sir, what in the name of fifty thousand jackasses,
+do you mean by standing there grinning from ear to ear like a buck
+nigger? But I'll not stand it any longer, Sir, not for a moment.
+D'ye hear, you miserable turnip-faced bumpkin, d'ye hear?"
+(<i>Carried away by histrionic enthusiasm</i>, <span class="smcap">Spinks</span> <i>brings his fist
+down violently on the precise spot where a table ought to be, but
+is not, standing. As a natural result, he hits himself with much
+force on his leg. The others laugh, and the Ladies turn away giggling,
+feeling that they ought to be sympathetic. The unfortunate</i> <span class="smcap">Spinks</span>
+<i>hurts himself considerably, and is furious. Coming, as it were, right
+out of the part, and being temporarily himself again, only in a rage,
+he addresses the Stage Manager.</i>) Upon my soul, <span class="smcap">Boldero</span>, this is
+perfectly infamous. How often have I begged you to get that table
+placed there <i>at all costs</i>, and time after time you forget it. I know
+what it is; you want to make me ridiculous. But you'll be d&mdash;&mdash;
+(<i>suddenly remembers that ladies are present, and substitutes a milder
+expletive</i>)&mdash;confoundedly sorry for yourself when you find I'm
+too lame to act, and the whole of your precious piece will be
+ruined. You'll none of you get notices worth twopence from the
+critics. [<i>Limps up and down the Stage.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>Miss Amelia Slimper</i> (<i>rather a novice, and anxious to make useful
+acquaintances among the distinguished Amateurs&mdash;to</i> Miss <span class="smcap">Kitty</span>,
+<i>whispering</i>). Are they very keen about notices?</p>
+
+<p><i>Miss Kitty</i> (<i>experienced in Amateurs</i>). Keen! I should think
+they were. They talk about nothing else when it's over.</p>
+
+<p><i>Boldero</i> (<i>peaceably</i>). Well, <span class="smcap">Spinks</span>, you know you smashed two
+tables last week, and I thought we agreed to rehearse without one.
+But I'll see it's there next time. Now then, <span class="smcap">Jarp</span>! Where's
+<span class="smcap">Jarp</span>? This is his entrance. Where the deuce is he? (<i>Enter</i>
+<span class="smcap">Jarp</span> <i>as</i> "Mr. <span class="smcap">Binns</span>, <i>Butler to</i> Lord <span class="smcap">Shorthorn</span>"). Dear me, <span class="smcap">Jarp</span>,
+what have you been up to?</p>
+
+<p><i>Jarp</i> (<i>vexed</i>). What have I been up to? I'll tell you. I've been
+learning my part, and it would be a good thing if everybody were to
+follow my example, instead of talking all day.</p>
+
+<p><i>Boldero.</i> <span class="smcap">Jarp</span>, don't be sarcastic. It doesn't suit you. Let's
+see if you know your part, after all this.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Jarp</span> (<i>as</i> <span class="smcap">Binns</span>, <i>without moving a muscle</i>). "'Er Ladyship's compliments,
+Colonel <span class="smcap">Debenham</span>, and she would like to see
+you."</p>
+
+<p><i>Spinks</i> (<i>as</i> <span class="smcap">Debenham</span>). "Very
+well. Tell her I'll come."</p>
+
+<p><i>Jarp</i> (<i>as</i> <span class="smcap">Binns</span>). "Yes,
+Sir."</p>
+
+<p>[<i>Exit</i> <span class="smcap">Jarp</span> <i>as</i> <span
+class="smcap">Binns</span>, <i>but immediately becomes</i> <span
+class="smcap">Jarp</span>, <i>and complains to the young Ladies
+that these fellows never will rehearse properly. The
+professional Ladies sympathise with him, and admit that it is
+very provoking, and</i> Miss <span class="smcap">Amelia</span>
+<i>takes the opportunity of expressing her confident opinion that
+he</i>, <span class="smcap">Jarp</span>, <i>will play his part
+admirably, and only wonders that he hasn't got more to do. Then
+somehow the conversation wanders towards professional matters,
+and the probability of</i> Miss <span
+class="smcap">Amelia</span> <i>being engaged next season at a
+fashionable London Theatre, &amp;c., &amp;c.</i> </p>
+
+<p><i>Miss Dorothy</i> (<i>aside, in a whisper, to</i> Miss <span class="smcap">Kitty</span>, <i>alluding to</i>
+<span class="smcap">Jarp's</span> <i>recent exit</i>). Is that all he's
+got to say?</p>
+
+<p><i>Miss Kitty</i> (<i>in same tone to</i> Miss <span class="smcap">Dorothy</span>). Not quite. He says,
+"'Er Ladyship is served!" in the next Act. A part like that takes
+a deal of learning.</p>
+
+<p>[<i>The rehearsal proceeds.</i> <span class="smcap">Spuffil</span>
+<i>does wonders as "a young man about town";</i> Colonel <span
+class="smcap">Clumk</span> <i>performs the part of a Country
+Clergyman in a manner suggestive rather of a Drill-sergeant than
+a Vicar.</i> <span class="smcap">Boldero</span> <i>having
+praised</i> <span class="smcap">Spinks</span>, <i>is pronounced
+by the latter to be unapproachable as</i> Lord <span
+class="smcap">Shorthorn</span>. <i>In the Third Act</i>, <span
+class="smcap">Hall</span> <i>sings his song about</i> "the Boy
+in Buttons." <i>On the previous day, he had had a difference with</i>
+<span class="smcap">Spinks</span> <i>and</i> <span
+class="smcap">Boldero</span>. </p>
+
+<p><i>Boldero.</i> I think that song's out of place. What say you, <span
+class="smcap">Spinks</span>?</p>
+
+<p><i>Spinks.</i> Well, it does sound just a trifle vulgar.</p>
+
+<p><i>Boldero.</i> Yes. I think we shall have to cut it, <span class="smcap">Hall</span>. It'll do
+for next year just as well. You can make it fit any piece?</p>
+
+<p><i>Hall</i> (<i>pale, but determined</i>). If that song goes, I go too. Oh, yes,
+<span class="smcap">Spinks</span>, it's all very well for you to be so blessed polite to <span class="smcap">Boldero</span>,
+but you didn't seem to think much of his acting (<i>observes</i> <span class="smcap">Spuffil</span>
+<i>smiling</i>) no, nor of <span class="smcap">Spuffil's</span> either, when you spoke to me yesterday:
+and as for <span class="smcap">Gushby</span>, why we all know what <span
+class="smcap">Gushby</span> is.</p>
+
+<p class="ralign"> [<i>All join in the fight, which continues for ten minutes.</i>
+</p>
+
+<p><i>Boldero</i> (<i>looking at his watch</i>). Good heavens! we shall miss our
+train, and I've promised to look in on <span class="smcap">Irving</span> to-night. He'd never
+forgive me if I didn't turn up.</p>
+
+<p>
+[<i>Smiles of quiet intelligence appear on the faces of the other
+Amateurs, accompanied with a few winks, which like
+"laughter in Court," are "immediately suppressed."
+Exeunt omnes, severally, each pleased with himself, and
+more or less disgusted with everybody else.</i>
+</p>
+
+<p><i>Miss Amelia</i> (<i>to</i> <span class="smcap">Kitty</span>). What a funny lot! Are they like that
+every year?</p>
+
+<p><i>Miss Kitty.</i> Yes, always. But (<i>confidentially</i>) they do come out
+strong for a "ben."</p>
+
+<p class="ralign">
+[<i>They retire to their lodgings for a little quiet tea and a rest.</i>
+</p>
+
+<hr class="half" />
+
+<h2 class="sans">A MID-WINTER'S NIGHT'S DREAM.</h2>
+
+<div id="img012">
+<a href="images/ill-012.png">
+<img src="images/ill-012-th.png" alt=""
+title="Click for larger image." width="700" height="173" />
+</a>
+</div>
+
+<p>Surely <span class="smcap">Augustus Druriolanus</span> has triumphed and beaten the
+record! For the last nine years it has been the cry, "There never
+was so good a Pantomime as <i>this</i> one," and now again the shout is
+repeated. <i>Jack and the Beanstalk</i> is the eleventh of the series, and
+the best. "How it is done?" only <span class="smcap">Augustus</span> can answer. The
+Annual (no longer, alas! written by the gentle and genial E. L. B.)
+has an excellent book. It contains something of all sorts. Now
+we have <span class="smcap">Shakspeare's</span> fairy-land with <i>Oberon</i>, <i>Titania</i>, and <i>Puck</i>,
+then <span class="smcap">Harry Nicholl's</span> Royal Palace with Mr. <span class="smcap">Herbert Campbell</span>
+and Miss <span class="smcap">Harriet Vernon</span>, then Madame <span class="smcap">Katti Lanner's</span> Market
+Place, with a number of the most promising of her pupils (of all ages
+too, from the tiny child to the "ceased-growing-a-long-while-ago")
+then Mrs. <span class="smcap">Simpson's</span> Back Garden, with Mr. <span class="smcap">George Conquest</span> junior
+as a giant, Mr. <span class="smcap">Dan Leno</span> as a widow, and the Brothers <span class="smcap">Griffiths</span>
+as the Cow Company Limited, and lastly, controlling the whole, we
+have Mr. <span class="smcap">Augustus Harris</span> who is seen at his very best when we
+reach the Giant's Library and the realms of Olympus.</p>
+
+<p>And this Pantomime is not only beautiful but amusing. It has
+two grand processions, but this year, by good stage-management,
+neither is tedious. The Shakspearean Heroines do a little play-acting
+between whiles, and the gods and goddesses, or rather their
+attendants, man&#339;uvre before the eye becomes weary of watching
+their approach. For instance, Mars has scarcely time to swagger
+down to the foot-lights in the most appropriate and approved fashion,
+before he finds himself called upon to stand near a private box on
+the prompt side, to be well out of the way of his dancing terpsichorean
+satellites. <i>Lady Macbeth</i> has hardly "taken the daggers" before
+<i>King Lear</i> (Mr. <span class="smcap">Lorraine</span>) is bringing a furtive tear to the eyes of
+all beholders (<i>one</i> tear is sufficient at Christmastide) by his touching
+pantomime in the presence of his three fair daughters.</p>
+
+<p>Then, too, Mr. <span class="smcap">Harry Payne</span> has <i>his</i>
+chance, and makes the most of it. It was quite pleasant to see the Clown
+on Boxing-Night, and those who left the theatre mindful of trains that
+will not delay the hours fixed for their departure, must have determined
+(if they were wise people) to come again to witness the remainder of the
+performances. Then those who liked acrobats had the Leopold Troupe, and
+a strong man who lifted up a horse (but did not have his own name, or
+the name of his charger, on the programme) to delight them. And it was
+also a pleasing reflection to remember that the entertainment was the
+result of solid hard work, combined with excellent judgment and taste.
+Paterfamilias could say to Young Hopeful home for the holidays, "See
+here, my lad, the lessee of our National Theatre could never have caused
+us so much thorough enjoyment had he not worked with a will that you
+will do well to imitate when you return to Dr. <span
+class="smcap">Swishtales'</span> Academy at the conclusion of
+the Christmas vacation." And so all can cry with genuine
+enthusiasm:&mdash;"<i>Ave</i>, <span class="smcap">Augustus</span>!
+<i>Ave</i>, <span class="smcap">Druriolanus</span>! <i>Ave</i>, <span
+class="smcap">Imperator</span>! <i>Ave! Ave!</i>&mdash;and <span
+class="smcap">Nicholls</span>."</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p class="small"><span class="smcap">Notice.</span>&mdash;Rejected
+Communications or Contributions, whether MS., Printed Matter, Drawings,
+or Pictures of any description, will in no case be returned, not even
+when accompanied by a Stamped and Addressed Envelope, Cover, or Wrapper.
+To this rule there will be no exception.</p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr class="full" />
+<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI VOLUME 98, JANUARY 4, 1890***</p>
+<p>******* This file should be named 25685-h.txt or 25685-h.zip *******</p>
+<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br />
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@@ -0,0 +1,1922 @@
+The Project Gutenberg eBook, Punch, or the London Charivari Volume 98,
+January 4, 1890, by Various, Edited by Francis Burnand
+
+
+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 98, January 4, 1890
+
+
+Author: Various
+
+Editor: Francis Burnand
+
+Release Date: June 3, 2008 [eBook #25685]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI
+VOLUME 98, JANUARY 4, 1890***
+
+
+E-text prepared by Malcolm Farmer, V. L. Simpson, and the Project
+Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team (https://www.pgdp.net)
+
+
+
+Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
+ file which includes the original illustrations.
+ See 25685-h.htm or 25685-h.zip:
+ (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/5/6/8/25685/25685-h/25685-h.htm)
+ or
+ (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/5/6/8/25685/25685-h.zip)
+
+
+
+
+
+PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI
+
+VOL. 98
+
+JANUARY 4, 1890
+
+[Illustration: PUNCH
+VOL 98]
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+London:
+Published at the Office, 85, Fleet Street,
+and Sold by All Booksellers.
+1890.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+[Illustration: Preface]
+
+It was a Midsummer Night, and Mr. PUNCH in his _sanctum_ dreamed a
+Dream! To adapt the Laureate's lay:--
+
+ He read, before his eyelids dropt their shade,
+ The _Lusiads_ of CAMOENS, long ago
+ Sung by the Lusitanian bard, who made
+ Great GAMA'S glories glow.
+
+It was the wondrous tale of STANLEY which had turned the Sage's
+attention to the pages of the great Epic of Commerce.
+
+He had read:--
+
+ "Afric behold! alas, what altered view!
+ Her lands uncultured, and her sons untrue;
+ Ungraced with all that sweetens human life,
+ Savage and fierce, they roam in brutal strife;
+ Eager they grasp the gifts which culture yields,
+ Yet naked roam their own neglected fields."
+
+And though even Africa has considerably changed since the year of grace
+1497, when "daring GAMA" went "incessant labouring round the stormy
+Cape," Mr. PUNCH thought of that great gloom-shrouded Equatorial Forest
+and its secular savage dwarf-denizens, and mused how much there was yet
+for our modern GAMAS to do in the Dark Continent.
+
+Mr. PUNCH found himself in the lovely "Isle of Venus," the delicious
+floral Paradise which the Queen of Love, "the guardian goddess of the
+Lusian race," created "amid the bosom of the watery waste," as "a place
+of glad repast and sweet repose," for the tired home-returning GAMA and
+his companions.
+
+"Of 'glad repast,'" said a familiar voice, "there is plenty and to
+spare; but for the 'sweet repose,' 'tis not to be found in this 'Isle of
+Banqueting.'"
+
+"Mr. STANLEY, I presume?" said the Sage.
+
+"You _cannot_ presume," rejoined H. M. neatly. "But some of these
+gregarious dinner-givers _do_, and sometimes,--yes, sometimes I'm afraid
+I let them see that I'm aware of it."
+
+"As fame-preoccupied, country-loving GAMA, wearied of the 'feasts,
+interludes, and chivalrous entertainments,' with which 'the taste of
+that age demonstrated the joy of Portugal,' might perchance have snubbed
+some too importunate Don. 'The compliments of the Court and the shouts
+of the streets were irksome to him,' says the chronicle."
+
+"SALISBURY is not quite a Prince HENRY apparently," remarked the modern
+GAMA. "He and his father JOHN did not find the discoveries and
+acquisitions of their heroic compatriot 'embarrassing.' 'The arts and
+valour of the Portuguese had now made a great impression on the minds of
+the Africans. The King of CONGO, a dominion of great extent, sent the
+sons of some of his principal officers to be instructed in arts and
+religion.' This was four hundred years ago! And now the Portuguese can
+be safely snubbed and sat upon, even by a SALISBURY! But if your prudent
+Premier doesn't 'stiffen his back' a bit, with regard to the tougher and
+tentative Teuton, 'the arts and valour' of the Britishers will not make
+as great an impression on the minds of the Africans as your ill-used
+East African Company could desire."
+
+"Don't be _too_ downhearted, HENRY," smiled the Sage. "Much dining-out
+doth breed dyspepsia, and atrabilious views are apt to be a _leetle_
+lop-sided."
+
+"Right, _Mr. Punch!_" said a musical but somewhat mournful voice, that
+of the great but ill-starred LUIS DE CAMOENS himself. "I wrote much of
+my _Lusiadas_ in Africa.
+
+ "'One hand the pen, and one the sword employed.'
+
+"_My_ reward was banishment, imprisonment, poverty, neglect, and a
+miserable death in an almshouse. 'Soon after, however,' says the record,
+'many epitaphs honoured his memory: the greatness of his merit was
+universally confessed, and his _Lusiad_ was translated into various
+languages.' 'The whirligig of time brings its revenges,' as your own
+illustrious Singer saith. How think you myself and my friend VASCO de
+GAMA here look upon the fallen state of our beloved native land? In vain
+he ventured for her. In vain I warningly sang:--
+
+ "'Chill'd by my nation's cold neglect, thy fires
+ Glow bold no more, and all thy rage expires.
+ Shall haughty Gaul or sterner Albion boast
+ That all the Lusian fame in thee is lost!'"
+
+Mr. PUNCH bowed low to the illustrious Poet and the indomitable
+Explorer. "Greatness," said he, courteously, "claims reverence, and
+misfortune respect. Your countrymen, Gentlemen, have been rather angry
+with me of late. But 'sterner Albion' may be proud indeed if she
+produces such men as GAMA to perform heroic deeds, and such poets as
+CAMOENS to sing them." The stately Shades saluted. "I wonder," said
+GAMA, "who will be the Laureate of the later Ulysses, and which of your
+singers will write the _Epic of Africa?_"
+
+"I fear," said Mr. PUNCH, "that at present they are too busy smiting the
+Socialistic big drum, or tickling their sonorous native tongue into
+tinkling triolets. In this Island of Venus----"
+
+"I beg pardon," interrupted STANLEY, with a sardonic smile. "This Island
+of _Menus_, you mean, Mr. PUNCH!"
+
+Mr. PUNCH looked around. The Acidalian roses and myrtles, the purple
+lotos and the snowy thorn, the yellow pod-flowers and the waving palms,
+the vermeil apples and the primrosed banks, of CAMOENS' somewhat
+zone-confounding vision, had indeed vanished, and in their stead seemed
+to wave snowy _serviettes_, to flow champagne-streams, to glitter
+goblets, and to glow orchid-laden _epergnes_.
+
+"Humph!" said the Sage. "The prose of the _Restaurateur_--which by the
+way sounds as if I were alluding to the literature of the
+Restauration,--hath insensibly superseded the poesy of the peerless
+Portuguese. Well, Gentlemen, in vain may 'sterner Albion' glory in the
+profusion of wealth and the pomp of 'glad repast,' unless also she
+breeds heroes to adventure and poets to celebrate. As you sang, my
+CAMOENS--
+
+ "'The King or hero to the Muse unjust,
+ Sinks as the nameless slave, extinct in dust.'
+
+"For the present, STANLEY'S arm and Mr. PUNCH'S pen suffice to save the
+State from such abasement. But let our timid Premiers and our
+temporising Press remember the glories of GAMA and CAMOENS, and the fate
+of ungrateful and indolent Lusitania!"
+
+"The Pen of Mr. PUNCH!" cried CAMOENS. "Ah, long have the valiant VASCO
+and myself desired to peruse its sparkling and patriotic outpourings.".
+
+"And you, my STANLEY," proceeded Mr. PUNCH, "said to the banqueting
+Fishmongers, 'I am an omnivorous reader whenever an opportunity presents
+itself.' It presents itself here and now. Take, Illustrious Trio, the
+greatest gift that even PUNCH can bestow upon you, to wit his
+
+"Ninety-Eighth Volume!"
+
+[Illustration]
+
+ * * * * *
+
+[Illustration]
+
+ * * * * *
+
+JOURNAL OF A ROLLING STONE.
+
+FOURTH ENTRY.
+
+Have for a considerable time past been "eating dinners," preparatory to
+being "called" to the Bar. Understand now what people mean when they
+talk of a "_Digest_ of the Law."
+
+Find myself (on dining for the first time this Term) in a mess with a
+highly-intelligent native of India, another man up from Oxford, and an
+African law-student. Latter black and curly, but good-natured. Says
+there is a great demand for English-made barristers on the Gambia, and
+he's going to supply the demand.
+
+Have wild and momentary idea of going to the Gambia myself.
+
+"Why," I ask this enterprising negro, "why don't English
+barristers--white ones, I mean--go and practise there?" Feel that
+reference to colour is not felicitous; still, difficult to express the
+idea otherwise.
+
+African doesn't mind. Shows all his teeth in a broad grin, and says,
+"Inglis men die, die like flies, on the Gambia."
+
+Curious to see the Hindoo law-student looking contemptuously at African
+ditto. Hindoo a shrewd fellow. Talks English perfectly. Rather given to
+gesticulate. Waves his arms, and incidentally knocks over a bottle of
+the claret--at twelve shillings a dozen--which the Inn kindly supplies
+to wash down the mutton and baked potatoes at our two-shilling meal.
+Hindoo laughs. Tells me, confidentially, that he has practised as a
+"Vakeel" (whatever that is) in some small country town in Bengal. Why
+has he come over here? Oh, to be called. Will get more work and more
+pay, when a full-fledged barrister. Gather that there are rival
+"Vakeels" in Bengal whom he wants to cut out. He intends "cutting
+out"--to India--directly he _is_ called.
+
+Oxford man tells me in a whisper that "he believes he's a Baboo."
+Indeed! Don't feel much wiser for the information.
+
+African getting jealous of Baboo's fluent talk. Rather a sportive negro,
+it appears. Says he goes to theatre nearly every night. Has a regular
+and rather festive programme for each day.
+
+"Lecture, morning," he says; "afternoon, walk in Park, sometimes ride.
+Night, theatre or music-hall." He grins like an amiable gargoyle. In his
+own country African law-student must be quite a lady-killer--a sort of
+Gambia masher.
+
+Incidentally mention to Hindoo difficulty of law of Real Property,
+especially "Rule in SHELLEY'S Case."
+
+It seems Hindoo understands matter perfectly. Begins to explain the
+"Rule in SHELLEY'S Case." Does it by aid of two salt-cellars (to
+represent the parties) and a few knives (to represent collateral
+relatives).
+
+African masher more jealous. Laughs at Baboo's explanation. He and Baboo
+exchange glances of hatred. African, who is carving, brandishes knife.
+Is he going to plunge it into heart of Baboo just as he's got through
+his explanation? Looks like it, as the shilling claret seems to have got
+into place where we may suppose African's brain to be. However, dinner
+ends without a catastrophe.
+
+After attending the usual amount of legal lectures, the "Final" Exam.
+approaches.
+
+Get through the papers pretty well. Thank goodness, no question asked so
+far about that "Rule in SHELLEY'S Case," which is my "_Pons Asinorum_!"
+It's a "rule" to which I take great exception.
+
+There's a "_Viva Voce_" to come, however. Hate _viva voce._ Two
+examiners sit at end of Hall--students called up in batches of
+half-a-dozen at a time. Very nervous work. Find, when my turn comes,
+that the intelligent Baboo is in the same lot! Appears to like the
+position. From his manner I should judge that he'd been doing nothing
+all his life but being examined by fifties in a cave, like this.
+
+Examiner who tackles me has an eye-glass.
+
+"Now, Mr. JOYNSON," he remarks, putting it up to survey me better, "if
+you were a trustee, &c., &c., _what would you do?_"
+
+Flattered at the supposition. Answer in a way which seems to partly
+satisfy Examiner, who passes on to next man with a new question. In a
+minute or two my turn comes round again.
+
+"Now, Mr. JOYNSON," Examiner again observes cheerfully, "let me ask you
+quite an elementary question in Real Property. Just give me a brief, a
+very brief, explanation of what you understand by the Rule in SHELLEY'S
+Case!"
+
+But I don't understand anything by it! It's a piece of hopeless legal
+gibberish to me. I stammer out some attempt at an answer, and see Baboo
+looking at me with a pitying, almost reproachful, glance. "Didn't I," he
+seems to say, "explain it all to you once at dinner? Do you really mean
+to say that you've forgotten the way in which I arranged the
+salt-cellars and the table-knives, and how I turned the whole case
+inside out for your benefit?"
+
+I admit the offence. Examiner seems surprised at my ignorance--informs
+me that "it's as easy as A.B.C." It may be--to him and the Baboo.
+
+Baboo, being asked the same question, at once explains the whole matter,
+this time without the aid of the salt-cellars and cutlery.
+
+A few days later go to look at result of examination. Result, for me--a
+Plough!
+
+Walking away dejectedly--("homeward the Plough-man wends his legal
+way"--as GRAY sympathetically put it)--meet African law-student, who
+grins insanely. _He_ doesn't sympathise in my defeat. Shows his fine set
+of ivories and says:--
+
+"Me failed too. Me go back Gambia. You come back with me!"
+
+Tell him I'm not "called" yet: certainly not called to Gambia.
+
+"Then come to Alhambra!" he suggests, as a sort of alternative to a
+visit to the tropics.
+
+African student evidently still a masher. Decline his invitation with
+thanks. Wouldn't be seen with him at a theatre for worlds! Depressed.
+Don't even look in at Gaiety Bar. No Gaiety for _me_--and no "Bar"
+either, it seems.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+[Illustration: SOME NEW YEAR'S PROBLEMS.]
+
+ * * * * *
+
+THE BUSY (J.) B.
+
+(_Not by Dr. Watts._)
+
+ How doth the busy Jerry Builder
+ Improve his shining hoard,
+ And gather money, basely earned,
+ From every opening Board!
+
+ How skilfully he scamps his "shells"!
+ How deftly spreads his sludge!
+ And labours to defend his sells
+ By special-pleading fudge!
+
+ With what serene, well-practised skill,
+ He "squares" Surveyors too!
+ For Jobbery finds some baseness still
+ For venal hands to do.
+
+ Whether for work or healthful play
+ His buildings will not last.
+ May he be called some day, some day,
+ To strict account at last!
+
+ * * * * *
+
+PARLIAMENTARY INTELLIGENCE.--According to the announcement in the
+_Gazette_, the SPEAKER will take the Chair in the House of Commons on
+Tuesday, the 11th of February, when the new Session opens. But, as a
+matter of fact, _The Speaker_ will be on the book-stalls on Saturday
+next, the 4th of January, entering upon what promises to be a useful and
+prolonged Session. Thereafter _The Speaker_ will take the book-stall
+once a week regularly, there being Saturday sittings throughout the
+year. _The Speaker_ will, of course, be on the side of Law and "Order!
+Order!"
+
+ * * * * *
+
+A BALLAD OF EVIL SPEED.
+
+_A Cool Collation of Several Bards._
+
+ I would I had not met you, Sweet,
+ I wish you had been far away
+ From where, in Upper Wimpole Street,
+ We two foregather'd yesterday.
+ Somewhere in that unlovely street
+ Summer's lost beauty, hid away,
+ Woke at the music of your feet,
+ And sought the little girl in grey.
+ Around your head the sunbeams play--
+ Home to the depths of your deep eyes
+ Soft shadows of the woodland stray,
+ Then sparkle with a quick surprise,
+ As when the branch-entangled skies
+ Shake from the depths of woodland stream,
+ Awhile in laughing circles gleam,
+ Then spread to heaven's peace again.
+ Amber and gold, and feathery grey,
+ You suited well the Autumn day,
+ The muffled sun, the misty air,
+ The weather like a sleepy pear.
+ And yet I wish that you had been
+ Afar, beside the sounding main,
+ Or swaying daintily the rein
+ Of mettled courser on the green,
+ So I had passed, and passed unseen.
+
+ For I arose, from dreams of thee,
+ So late that morn, my matin tea
+ Was cold as mutton two days cooked;
+ As in the looking-glass I looked,
+ Methought the razor need not wreak
+ Its wonted vengeance on my cheek,
+ Nor clear the shadow from my chin
+ Till to the City I had been.
+ Thus, horrid with a nascent beard,
+ By chance through Wimpole Street I steered,
+ Trusting therein to shun contempt
+ Of who abhor a man unkempt.
+ For like a mother-bird, who's caught
+ The cant of modern woman's thought,
+ My restless tie refused to sit,
+ And restless fingers vainly sought
+ To soothe the silkworm's stubborn toil.
+ But only did its candour soil,
+ And suffered none the less from it.
+ For all my neck, and head no less,
+ Owned to a vague unquietness,
+ As when the vagrant spiderlet
+ Has spread at large her filmy net
+ To catch the moonbeams, wavering white,
+ At the front gate on Autumn night.
+
+ Then suddenly the sombre way
+ Rock'd like the darkness struck by day,
+ The endless houses reel'd from sight,
+ And all romance and all delight
+ Came thronging in a glorious crowd.
+ So, when the drums are beating loud,
+ The mob comes sweeping down the Mall,
+ Far heralding the bear-skins tall.
+ Glorious in golden clothing comes
+ The great drum-major with his drums
+ And sun-smit brass of trumpets; then
+ The scarlet wall of marching men,
+ Midmost of which great Mavors sets
+ The colours girt with bayonets.
+ Yes, there were you--and there was I,
+ Unshaved, and with erratic tie,
+ And for that once I yearn'd to shun
+ My social system's central sun.
+ How could a sloven slave express
+ The frank, the manly tenderness
+ That wraps you round from common thought,
+ And does not ask that you should know
+ The love that consecrates you so.
+ No; furtive, awkward, restless, cold,
+ I basely seemed to set at naught
+ That sudden bliss, undreamt, unsought.
+ What must she think, my girl of gold?
+ I dare not ask; and baffled wit
+ Droops--till sweet hopes begin to flit--
+ Like butterflies that brave the cold--
+ Perhaps she didn't notice it.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+[Illustration: STUDIES IN REPARTEE.
+
+_She._ "HOW SILENT YOU ARE! WHAT ARE YOU THINKING OF?"
+
+_He._ "_NOTHING!_"
+
+_She._ "EGOTIST!"]
+
+ * * * * *
+
+"JUST TO OBLIGE BENSON."
+
+DEAR MR. PUNCH,--It was not a very happy thought to send me to the Globe
+Theatre at this festive season of the year to witness the representation
+of a piece, called by the management, for some reason or other, "a
+_faerie_ comedy." Now, I like a Burlesque, and I am fond of a Pantomime,
+but a mixture of blank verse and tom-foolery is rather too much for me,
+especially when that mixture is not redeemed by a plot of any interest.
+Nothing can be more absurd than the story (save the mark!) told in this
+particularly uninteresting play. It appears that a "Duke!" of Athens
+married the Queen of the Amazons, and during the nuptial rejoicings
+ordered the daughter of one of his subjects to "die the death" unless
+she transferred her affections from her own true love to a gentleman of
+her father's choice. The gentleman of her father's choice was beloved in
+his turn by a school friend of his would-not-be betrothed, and the play
+which lasted from eight until nearly midnight, was devoted to setting
+this simple (in more senses than one) _imbroglio_ right. By a clumsy
+device, _Oberon_ King of the Fairies bewitched the two pairs of lovers
+during their sleep in a wood, so that one lady had two admirers and the
+other none. All that was needed to bring the piece to a conclusion was
+to have another exercise of magic when the couples paired off, of
+course, in a manner calculated to give satisfaction to their friends and
+relations. This was the entire plot. There was now and again some
+attempts to turn amateur theatricals into feeble ridicule by the
+introduction of a party of village histrions, who were allowed to
+"clown" to their heart's content; and _voila tout_!
+
+The mounting is excellent. Nothing better than "a Wood near Athens,"
+painted by Mr. HEMSLEY, has been seen since Professor HERKOMER startled
+the world with his representation of village life at Bushey. The music,
+too (chiefly from the works of MENDELSSOHN), is always charming, and
+frequently appropriate. Moreover, Mr. BENSON, no doubt feeling that his
+author required every possible support, has introduced a number of
+pretty dances, executed by comely maidens of ages varying from seven to
+(say) seven-and-twenty.
+
+Of course, such a play required very ordinary acting. Mr. BENSON was, on
+the whole, a gentlemanly _Lysander_, Mr. OTHO STUART a dignified
+_Oberon_, and Mr. STEPHEN PHILLIPS quite the best of the village
+histrions. Miss GRACE GERALDINE was also fanciful in the _role_ of a
+sort of gnome. But, allowing for the music, and the scenery, and the
+acting, the piece itself was unquestionably dull. And now, having given
+you my unbiassed opinion, I beg to sign myself,
+
+ YOUR UNPREJUDICED CONTRIBUTOR.
+
+P.S.--I am told that the author of _A Midsummer's Dream_ wrote a number
+of other plays of considerable merit. This I challenge, the more
+especially as those who swear by Mr. WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE candidly admit
+that his name is a deterrent rather than an attraction on a play-bill.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+ 1890 ALMANACK FOR FUNNY DOGS.--Evidently "Whitty Curs'
+ Almanack."
+
+ * * * * *
+
+MR. PUNCH'S MORAL MUSIC-HALL DRAMAS.
+
+No. II.--JOE, THE JAM-EATER.
+
+_A Musical Spectacular and Sensational Interlude._ (_Dedicated
+respectfully to Mr. McDougall and the L. C. C._)
+
+[Illustration]
+
+The Music-hall Dramatist, like SHAKSPEARE, has a right to take his
+material from any source that may seem good to him. _Mr. Punch_,
+therefore, makes no secret of the fact, that he has based the following
+piece upon the well-known poem of "_The Purloiner_," by the Sisters JANE
+and ANN TAYLOR, who were _not_, as might be too hastily concluded, "Song
+and Dance Duettists," but two estimable ladies, who composed
+"cautionary" verses for the young, and whose works are a perfect mine of
+wealth for Moral Dramatists. In this dramatic version the Author has
+tried to infuse something of the old Greek sense of an overruling
+destiny, without detriment to prevailing ideas of moral responsibility.
+Those who have the misfortune to be born with a propensity for illicit
+jam, may learn from our Drama the terrible results of failing to
+overcome it early in life.
+
+DRAMATIS PERSONAE
+
+_Jam-loving Joe._ By that renowned Melodramatic Serio-Comic, Miss CONNIE
+CURDLER.
+
+_Joe's Mother_ (_the very part for_ Mrs. BANCROFT _if she can only be
+induced to make her re-appearance_).
+
+_John, a Gardener._ By the great Pink-eyed Unmusical Zulu.
+
+_Jim-Jam, the Fermentation Fiend._ By Mr. BEERBOHM TREE (_who has kindly
+consented to undertake the part_).
+
+_Chorus of Plum and Pear Gatherers, from the Savoy_ (_by kind permission
+of_ Mr. D'OYLY CARTE).
+
+SCENE.--_The Store-room at sunset, with view of exterior of Jam
+Cupboard, and orchard in distance._
+
+_Enter_ JOE.
+
+"As JOE was at play, Near the cupboard one day, When he thought no one
+saw him but himself."--_Vide Poem._
+
+ _Joe_ (_dreamily_). 'Tis passing strange that I so partial am
+ To playing in the neighbourhood of Jam!
+
+[_Here_ Miss CURDLER _will introduce her great humorous Satirical
+Medley, illustrative of the Sports of Childhood, and entitled, "Some
+Little Gymes we all of us 'ave Plied;" after which, Enter_ JOE'S
+_Mother, followed by_ JOHN _and the Chorus, with baskets, ladders, &c.,
+for gathering fruit._
+
+"His Mother and JOHN, To the garden had gone, To gather ripe
+pears and ripe plums."--_Poem._
+
+ _Joe's Mother_ (_with forced cheerfulness_)--
+
+ Let's hope, my friends, to find our pears and plums,
+ Unharmed by wopses, and untouched by wums.
+
+[_Chorus signify assent in the usual manner by holding up the right
+hand._
+
+ _Solo_--JOHN.
+
+ Fruit when gathered ripe, is wholesome--
+ Otherwise if eaten green.
+ Once I knew a boy who stole some--
+ [_With a glance at_ JOE, who turns aside to conceal his
+ confusion.
+ His internal pangs were keen!
+
+ _Chorus_ (_virtuously_). 'Tis the doom of all who're mean,
+ Their internal pangs are keen!
+
+_Joe's Mother_ (_aside_). By what misgivings is a mother
+ tortured!
+ I'll keep my eye on JOSEPH in the orchard.
+ [_She invites him with a gesture to follow._
+
+ _Joe_ (_earnestly_). Nay, Mother, here I'll stay till you
+ have done.
+ Temptation it is ever best to shun!
+
+ _Joe's M._ So laudable his wish, I would not cross it--
+ (_Mysteriously._) He knows not there are jam-pots in yon
+ closet!
+
+ _Chorus._ Away we go tripping,
+ From boughs to be stripping
+ Each pear, plum, and pippin
+ Pomona supplies!
+
+ When homeward we've brought 'em,
+ Those products of Autumn,
+ We'll carefully sort 'em
+ (_One of our old Music-hall rhymes_),
+ According to size! [_Repeat as they caper out._
+
+[JOE'S Mother, _after one fond, lingering look behind, follows: the
+voices are heard more and more faintly in the distance. Stage darkens;
+the last ray of sunset illumines key of jam-cupboard door._
+
+ _Joe._ At last I am alone! Suppose I tried
+ That cupboard--just to see what's kept inside?
+ [_Seems drawn towards it by some fatal fascination._
+ There _might_ be Guava jelly, and a plummy cake,
+ For such a prize I'd laugh to scorn a stomach-ache!
+ [_Laughs a stomach-ache to scorn._
+ And yet (_hesitating_) who knows?--a pill?... perchance--a powder!
+ (_Desperately_). What then? To scorn I'll laugh them--even louder!
+
+[_Fetches chair and unlocks cupboard. Doors fall open with loud clang,
+revealing Interior of Jam Closet_ (_painted by_ HAWES CRAVEN). JOE
+_mounts chair to explore shelves. Vide poem, "How sorry I am, He ate
+raspberry jam, And currants that stood on the shelf!"_
+
+ _Joe_ (_speaking with mouth full, and back to audience_).
+ 'Tis raspberry--of all the jams my favourite;
+ I'll clear the pot, whate'er I have to pay for it!
+ And finish up with currants from this shelf....
+ Who'll ever see me?
+
+ _The Demon of the Jam Closet_ (_rising slowly from an immense pot of
+ preserves_). None--except Myself!
+
+[_The cupboard is lit up by an infernal glare_ (_courteously lent by the
+Lyceum Management from "Faust" properties_); _weird music;_ JOE _turns
+slowly and confronts the Demon with awestruck eyes;_ N.B.--_Great
+opportunity for powerful acting here._
+
+ _The Demon_ (_with a bland sneer_). Pray don't mind _me_--I will await
+ your leisure.
+
+ _Joe_ (_automatically_). Of your acquaintance, Sir, I've not the
+ pleasure.
+ Who _are_ you? Wherefore have you intervened?
+
+ _The Demon_ (_quietly_). My name is "Jim-Jam"; occupation--fiend.
+
+ _Joe_ (_cowering limply on his chair_). O Mr. Fiend, I _know_ it's
+ very wrong of me!
+
+ _Demon_ (_politely_). Don't mention it--but please to come "along of"
+ me?
+
+ _Joe_ (_imploringly_). Do let me off this once,--ha! you're relenting,
+ You smile----
+
+ _Demon_ (_grimly_). 'Tis nothing but my jam fermenting!
+ [_Catches_ JOE'S _ankle, and assists him to descend._
+
+ _Joe._ You'll drive me mad!
+
+ _Demon_ (_carelessly_). I _may_--before I've done with you!
+
+ _Joe._ What do you want?
+
+ _Demon_ (_darkly_). To have a little fun with you!
+ Of fiendish humour now I'll give a specimen.
+
+[_Chases him round and round Stage, and proceeds to smear him hideously
+with jam._
+
+ _Joe_ (_piteously_). Oh, don't! I feel _so_ sticky. _What_ a mess
+ I'm in!
+
+ _Demon_ (_with affected sympathy_). That _is_ the worst of jam--it's
+ apt to stain you.
+ [_To_ JOE, _as he frantically endeavours to remove the traces of his
+ crime._
+ I see you're busy--so I'll not detain you!
+
+[_Vanishes down star-trap with a diabolical laugh. Cupboard-doors close
+with a clang; all lights down._ JOE _stands gazing blankly for some
+moments, and then drags himself off Stage. His Mother and_ JOHN, _with
+Pear- and Plum-gatherers bearing laden baskets, appear at doors at back
+of Scene, in faint light of torches._
+
+_Re-enter Joe_ (_bearing a candle and wringing his hands_). Out, jammed
+spot! What--will these hands _never_ be clean? Here's the smell of the
+raspberry jam still! All the powders of Gregory cannot unsweeten this
+little hand.... (_Moaning._) Oh, oh, oh!
+
+[_This passage has been accused of bearing too close a resemblance to
+one in a popular Stage Play; if so, the coincidence is purely
+accidental, as the Dramatist is not in the habit of reading such profane
+literature._
+
+ _Joe's Mother._ Ah! what an icy dread my heart benumbs!
+ See--stains on all his fingers, _and_ his thumbs!
+
+"What JOE was about, His Mother found out, When she look'd at his
+fingers and thumbs."--_Poem again._
+
+ Nay, JOSEPH--'tis your mother ... speak to her!
+
+_Joe_ (_tonelessly, as before_). Lady, I know you not (_touches lower
+part of waistcoat_); but, prithee, undo this button. I think I have jam
+in all my veins, and I would fain sleep. When I am gone, lay me in a
+plain white jelly-pot, with a parchment cover, and on the label
+write----but come nearer, I have a secret for your ear alone ... there
+are strange things in some cupboards! Demons should keep in the
+dust-bin. (_With a ghastly smile._) I know not what ails me, but I am
+not feeling at all well.
+
+[JOE'S Mother _stands a few steps from him, with her hands twisted in
+her hair, and stares at him in speechless terror._
+
+_Joe_ (_to the Chorus_). I would shake hands with you all, were not my
+fingers so sticky. We eat marmalade, but we know not what it is made of.
+Hush! if JIM-JAM comes again, tell him that I am not at home.
+Loo-loo-loo!
+
+_All_ (_with conviction_). Some shock has turned his brine!
+
+_Joe_ (_sitting down on floor, and weaving straws in his hair_). My
+curse upon him that invented jam. Let us all play Tibbits.
+
+[_Laughs vacantly: all gather round him, shaking their heads, his_
+Mother _falls fainting at his feet, as Curtain falls upon a strong and
+moral, though undeniably gloomy denoument._
+
+ * * * * *
+
+THE SAVOYARDS.
+
+MESSRS. GILBERT AND SULLIVAN'S _Gondoliers_ deserves to rank immediately
+after _The Mikado_ and _Pinafore_ bracketed. The _mise-en-scene_ is in
+every way about as perfect as it is possible to be. Every writer of
+_libretti_, every dramatist and every composer, must envy the Two
+Savoyards, their rare opportunities of putting their own work on their
+own stage, and being like the two Kings in this piece, jointly and
+equally monarchs of all they survey, though, unlike these two
+potentates, they are not their subjects' servants, and have only to
+consider what is best for the success of their piece, and to have it
+carried out, whatever it is, literally regardless of expense. And what
+does their work amount to? Simply a Two-Act Opera, to play
+two-hours-and-a-half, for the production of which they have practically
+a whole year at their disposal. They can go as near commanding success
+as is given to mortal dramatist and composer, and for any comparative
+failure they can have no one to blame but themselves, the pair of them.
+
+[Illustration: "Once upon a time there were two Kings."]
+
+Whatever the piece may be, it is always a pleasure to see how thoroughly
+the old hands at the Savoy enter into "the fun of the thing," and, as in
+the case of Miss JESSIE BOND and Mr. RUTLAND BARRINGTON, absolutely
+carry the audience with them by sheer exuberance of spirits.
+
+Mr. RUTLAND BARRINGTON possesses a ready wit and keen appreciation of
+humour; and, as this is true also of Miss JESSIE BOND, the couple, being
+thoroughly in their element with such parts as _The Gondoliers_ provide
+for them, legitimately graft their own fun on the plentiful stock
+already supplied by the author, and are literally the life and soul of
+the piece.
+
+On the night I was there a Miss NORAH PHYLLIS took Miss ULMAR'S part of
+_Gianetta_, and played it, at short notice, admirably. She struck me as
+bearing a marked facial resemblance to Miss FORTESQUE, and is a decided
+acquisition. Mr. DENNY, as the Grand Inquisitor (a part that recalls the
+Lord High Chancellor of the ex-Savoyard, GEORGE GROSSMITH, now
+entertaining "on his own hook"), doesn't seem to be a born Savoyard,
+_non nascitur_ and _non fit_ at present. Good he is, of course, but
+there's no spontaneity about him. However, for an eccentric comedian
+merely to do exactly what he is told, and nothing more, yet to do that,
+little or much, well, is a performance that would meet with _Hamlet's_
+approbation, and Mr. GILBERT'S. Mr. FRANK WYATT, as "the new boy" at the
+Savoy School, doesn't, as yet, seem quite happy; but it cannot be
+expected that he should feel "quite at home," when he has only recently
+arrived at a new school.
+
+Miss BRANDRAM is a thorough Savoyard; _nihil tetigit quod non ornavit_,
+and her embroidery of a part which it is fair to suppose was written to
+suit her, is done in her own quaint and quiet fashion.
+
+A fantastically and humorous peculiarly Gilbertian idea is the
+comparison between a visit to the dentist's, and an interview with the
+questioners by the rack, suggested by the Grand Inquisitor Don ALHAMBRA
+who says that the nurse is waiting in the torture-chamber, but that
+there is no hurry for him to go and examine her, as she is all right and
+"has all the illustrated papers."
+
+[Illustration: Rutland Pooh-Bah-rington, after signing his
+re-engagement, takes his Bond, and sings, "Again we come to the Savoy."]
+
+There are ever so many good things in the Opera, but the best of all,
+for genuinely humorous inspiration of words, music and acting, is the
+quartette in the Second Act, "In a contemplative fashion." It is
+excellent. Thank goodness, _encores_ are disencouraged, except where
+there can be "No possible sort of doubt, No possible doubt whatever"
+(also a capital song in this piece) as to the unanimity of the
+enthusiasm. There is nothing in the music that catches the ear on a
+first hearing as did "_The Three Little Maids_," or "_I've got a Song to
+Sing O!_" but it is all charming, and the masterly orchestration in its
+fulness and variety is something that the least technically educated can
+appreciate and enjoy. The piece is so brilliant to eye and ear, that
+there is never a dull moment on the stage or off it. It is just one of
+those simple _Bab-Ballady_ stories which, depending for its success not
+on any startling surprise in the plot, but on general excellence, may,
+especially on account of the music, be safely put down on the
+play-goer's list for "a second hearing."
+
+ CHRISTMAS BOX.
+
+[Illustration: George Grossmith on his own Hook.]
+
+ * * * * *
+
+RUSSIAN ART.
+
+From _The Morning Post_, last week, we learn that the Russian Imperial
+Academy of Arts, has passed a law prohibiting Jews to become members of
+its artistic body. By the Nose of _Mr. Punch_, but this is too bad, and
+too bigoted for any century, let alone the "so-called Nineteenth." If
+such a rule, or rather such an exception, could have been possible in
+England within the last twenty years, what a discouragement it would
+have been for all the Royal Academicians, who would thereby _have lost
+Hart!_ Dear good old SOLOMON! He was a poor HART that often rejoiced,
+and if he was not the best painter in the world, he was just about the
+worst punster. We hope to hear that our Royal Academicians, with their
+large-hearted and golden-tongued President at their head, will send a
+friendly expostulation to their Russian Brothers in oil, and obtain the
+abrogation of this unreasonable legislation, which is one effect of an
+anti-semitic cyclone, fit only for the _Jew-ventus Mundi_, but not for
+the world at its maturity.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+ "DOT AND GO ONE"--no, see _Dot_, and go several times
+ again to see our JOHNNIE TOOLE at his own Theatre,
+ before he leaves for the Antipodes. The good old farce
+ of _Toole in the Pigskin_ is well-mounted, and is, of
+ course, one of the pieces on which he will rely, as
+ especially appropriate to Horse-tralia.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+[Illustration: FRESH TO THE COUNTRY.
+
+_Young Lady._ "CAN YOU TELL ME WHERE THE MEET IS?"
+
+_Butcher's Boy_ (_a recent importation from London_). "YES, MUM. I JIST
+TOOK IT HUP TO THE 'ALL THIS MORNIN'!"]
+
+ * * * * *
+
+THE START.
+
+ Off! Yes; but inexperienced feet,
+ With pace that's fast and a style that's neat,
+ At first can scarcely be expected
+ O'er frozen waters to glide and fleet.
+
+ "_Have them on, Sir?_" Old Time was there,
+ With the shining steels and the ready chair.
+ His latest pupil is passing yonder,
+ No more the ice-locked waters to dare.
+
+ _His_ feet are tired and his knees are stiff,
+ _His_ breath comes low in a wheezy whiff.
+ He'll now "lay up," like a worn-out wherry.
+ 'Tis yours to start like a new-launched skiff.
+
+ How many a novice that Skate-man old
+ Has helped to onset alert and bold!
+ How many a veteran worn seen vanish,
+ Aching with effort and pinched with cold!
+
+ And you, young novice, 'tis now your turn
+ Your skates to try and your steps to learn.
+ You long to fly like the skimming swallow,
+ To brave the breathless "scurry" you burn.
+
+ He knows, he knows, your aged guide!
+ The screws are fixed, and the straps are tied,
+ And he looks sharp out for the shambling stagger,
+ The elbows wobbling, the knees too wide.
+
+ But boyhood's hopeful, and youth has pluck;
+ And now, when scarcely your steel hath struck
+ The slithery ice in your first bold venture,
+ _Punch_, friendly watcher, will wish you luck!
+
+ He too has seen some novices start,
+ And knows, however you play your part,
+ The "outside edge," and attendant perils,
+ Will tax your sinews and test your heart.
+
+ But most on the ice does the old saw hold--
+ "Be bold, be bold, but be not _too_ bold!"
+ Though there's many a rotten patch marked "Danger!"
+ Young hearts are warm if the weather be cold.
+
+ Bravo, youngster! Steady! Strike out!
+ Caution, yes, but not palsying doubt.
+ Courage! and you--ere your course you finish--
+ May beat "Fish" SMART at a flying bout!
+
+ * * * * *
+
+ROBERT'S KRISMUS HIM.
+
+ How werry warious is the reasons why
+ We welcoms Crismus with a ringing cheer!
+ The Skoolboy nos his hollidays is nigh,
+ And treats the hale stout Porter to sum Beer.
+
+ The Cook and Ousemaid smiles upon the Baker,
+ Who takes his little fee without no blush,
+ Likewise upon the Butcher and Shoo Maker
+ Who makes their calls dispite the Sno or Slush.
+
+ The Dustman cums a crying out for "Dust,"
+ But nos full well that isn't wot he seeks,
+ And gits his well-earned shilling with the fust,
+ And smiles on Mary as his thanks he speaks.
+
+ The Groser smart, as likewise his Green Brother,
+ In their best close cums with a modest ring,
+ And having got their orders, one and tother,
+ Smilingly asks for jest one other thing.
+
+ The Postman's dubbel nock cums to each door,
+ Whether he has a Letter got or no,
+ The stingy Master thinks his call a bore,
+ And gives his paltry shilling werry slow.
+
+ The jowial Waiter shows unwonted joy!
+ And hails his Crismus with becoming glee!
+ Knowing full well _his_ plezzurs newer cloy,
+ Who gets from ewery Gest a dubble fee!
+
+ Why are not all men like the jowial Waiter,
+ Allers content with what kind Fortune brings,
+ Whether it's Turtel Soop or a meer tater,
+ He sets a pattern to Lord Mares and Kings.
+
+ Then let us all while Crismus time we're keeping,
+ Whether we barsks in fortune's smile or frown,
+ Be thankful for the harwest we are reaping,
+ And give a thort to them whose luck is down.
+
+ROBERT.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+ HISTORICAL PARALLELS.--Two Directories. The French
+ _Directoire_ was a short-lived stopgap of not unmixed
+ benefit to France, but our English Directory, yclept
+ KELLY'S, for 1890, directorily, or indirectorily,
+ supplies all our wants, comes always "as a boon and a
+ blessing to men," and is within a decade of becoming a
+ hale and hearty centenarian. _Vivat_ KELLY!
+
+ * * * * *
+
+[Illustration: THE START]
+
+ * * * * *
+
+UNTILED; OR, THE MODERN ASMODEUS.
+
+"Tres volontiers," repartit le demon.
+
+"Vous aimez les tableaux changeans: je veux vous contenter."
+
+_Le Diable Boiteux._
+
+[Illustration]
+
+XV.
+
+ Down through the night we drifted slow, the rays
+ From London's countless gas-jets starred the haze
+ O'er which we darkly hovered.
+ Broad loomed the bulk of WREN'S colossal dome
+ Through the grey mist, which, like a sea of foam,
+ The sleeping city covered.
+
+ "The year," the Shadow murmured, "nears its close.
+ Lo! how they swarm in slumber, friends and foes,
+ Kindred and utter strangers,
+ The millions of this Babylon, stretched beneath
+ The shroud of night, and drawing peaceful breath,
+ Unstirred by dreads and dangers."
+
+ "But not by dreams," I answered, "Canst reveal,
+ O Shade, the vagrant thoughts that throng and steal
+ About these countless pillows?
+ Or are these sleeping souls as shut to thee
+ As is the unsounded silence of the sea
+ To those who brave its billows?"
+
+ "Dreams?" smiled the Shadow. "What I see right well
+ Your eyes may not behold. Yet can I tell
+ Their import as unravelled
+ By subtler sense, whilst through these souls they pass!
+ What said the demon to _Don Cleophas_
+ As o'er Madrid they travelled?
+
+ "Such dreams as haunt us near the glimmering morn
+ Shadow forth truth; these through the Gates of Horn
+ Find passage to the sleeper.
+ Prophetic? Nay! But sense therein may read
+ The heart's desire, in pangs of love or greed;
+ What divination deeper?
+
+ "Yon Statesman, struggling in the nightmare's grip,
+ Fears he has let Time's scanty forelock slip,
+ And lost a great occasion
+ Of self-advancement. How that mouth's a-writhe
+ With hate, on platforms oft so blandly blithe
+ In golden-tongued persuasion!
+
+ "He, blindly blundering, as through baffling mist,
+ Is a professional philanthropist,
+ Rosy-gilled, genial, hearty.
+ A mouthing Friend of Man. He dreams he's deep
+ In jungles of self-interest, where creep
+ Sleuth-hounds of creed and party.
+
+ "That sleek-browed sleeper? 'Tis the Great Pooh-pooh,
+ The 'Mugwump' of the _Weekly Whillaloo_,
+ A most superior creature;
+ Too high for pity and too cold for wrath;
+ The pride of dawdlers on the Higher Path
+ Suffuses every feature.
+
+ "Contemptuous, he, of clamorous party strife,
+ And all the hot activities of life;
+ But most the Politician
+ He mocks--for 'meanness.' How the prig would gasp
+ If shown the slime-trail of that wriggling asp
+ In his own haunts Elysian!
+
+ "He dreams Creation, cleared of vulgar noise,
+ Is dedicate to calm aesthetic joys,
+ That he is limply lolling
+ Amidst the lilies that toil not nor spin,
+ Given quite to dandy scorn, and dainty sin,
+ And languor, and 'log-rolling.'
+
+ "The head which on that lace-trimmed pillow lies
+ Is fair as Psyche's. Yes, those snow-veiled eyes
+ Look Dian-pure and saintly.
+ Sure no Aholibah could own those lips,
+ Through whose soft lusciousness the bland breath slips
+ So fragrantly and faintly.
+
+ "That up-curved arm which bears the silken knot
+ Of dusky hair, is it more free from blot
+ Than is her soul who slumbers?
+ Her visions? Of 'desirable young men,'
+ Who crowd round her like swine round Circe's pen
+ In ever-swelling numbers.
+
+ "Of Love? Nay, but of lovers. Love's a lean
+ And impecunious urchin; lovers mean
+ Gifts, worship, triumph--Money!
+ The Golden Apple is the fruit to witch
+ Our modern Atalantas. To be rich,
+ Live on life's milk and honey;
+
+ "Stir crowds, charm royalties,--these are the things
+ Psyche most cares for, not her radiant wings
+ Or Cupid's shy caresses.
+ She dreams of conquests that a world applauds,
+ Or a Stage-wardrobe with a thousand gauds,
+ And half-a-hundred dresses.
+
+ "Not so, that other sleeper, stretched at length,
+ A spectre stripped of charm and shorn of strength,
+ In yon dismantled chamber.
+ Dreams she of girlhood's couch, the lavender
+ Of country sheets, a roof where pigeons whirr
+ And creamy roses clamber?
+
+ "Of him the red-faced swain whose rounded eyes
+ Dwelt on her charms in moony ecstacies?
+ Of pride, of shame, of sorrow?
+ Nay, of what now seems Nature's crowning good;
+ Hunger-wrought dreams are hers of food--food--food.
+ She'll wake from them to-morrow;
+
+ "Wake fiercely famishing, savagely sick,
+ The animal in man is quick, so quick
+ To stir and claim full forage.
+ Let famine parch the hero's pallid lips,
+ Pinch Beauty's breast, then watch the swift eclipse
+ Of virtue, sweetness, courage!
+
+ "Cynical? Sense leaves that to callow youth
+ And callous age; plain picturing of the truth
+ Seems cynical,--to folly.
+ Friend, the true cynic is the shallow mime
+ Who paints humanity devoid of crime,
+ And life supremely 'jolly,'
+
+ "See such an one, in scented sheets a-loll!
+ Rich fare and rosy wine have lapped his soul
+ In a _bon-vivant's_ slumbers.
+ His pen lies there, the ink is scarcely dry
+ With which he sketched the smug philosophy
+ Of Cant and Christmas Numbers.
+
+ "He dreams of--holly, home, exuberant hearts,
+ Picturesque poverty, the toys and tarts
+ Of childhood's hope?--No, verily!
+ 'Tis a dream-world of pleasure, power, and pelf,
+ Visions of the apocalypse of Self,
+ O'er which his soul laughs merrily."
+
+ "Enough!" I cried. "The morning's earliest gleams
+ Will soon dissolve this pageantry of dreams.
+ The New Year's at our portals.
+ Unselfishness, and purity, and hope,
+ Dawn with it through the dream-world's cloudy cope,
+ Even on slumbering mortals."
+
+ "Granted," the Shadow answered. "Poppy-Land
+ Is not _all_ Appetite and Humbug bland.
+ Myriads of night-capped noddles
+ We must leave unexplored. Their owners oft
+ Are saints austere, or sympathisers soft,
+ Truth's types and Virtue's models!"
+
+(_To be continued._)
+
+ * * * * *
+
+ANSWERS TO CORRESPONDENTS.
+
+PREPARING TO MEET AN EPIDEMIC.--If you sit all day in your great coat,
+muffled up to the eyes in a woollen comforter and with your feet in
+constantly replenished mustard and hot water, as you propose, you will
+certainly be prepared, when it makes its appearance, to encounter the
+attack of the Russian Epidemic Influenza, that you so much dread. Your
+idea of taking a dose of some advertised Patent Medicine every other
+hour, as a preventive, is by no means a bad one, and your resolution to
+shut yourself up in your house, see no friends, open no letters, read no
+newspapers, and live entirely on tinned meats for three months, might
+possibly secure you from the chances of an attack; but on the whole we
+should rather advise you to carry out your plan of leaving the country
+altogether and seeking a temporary asylum in South Central Africa until
+you are assured that the contagion has blown over, as the preferable
+one. Anyhow you might try it. Meanwhile, certainly drench your clothes
+with disinfectants, fill your hat with cotton wool steeped in spirits of
+camphor, and if you meet any friends in the street, prevent them
+addressing you, by keeping them at arm's-length with your walking-stick,
+or, better still, if you have it with you, your opened umbrella. They
+may or they may not understand your motive, and when they do, though
+they may not respect you for your conduct, it is just possible that they
+may not seriously resent it. Your precautionary measures, if
+scrupulously carried out, should certainly ensure your safety. Put them
+in hand at once, and be sure you let us hear from you next Spring
+informing us, on the whole, how you have got on.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+ WHAT POCKET-BOOKS TO GET.--Mark us; WARD'S.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+[Illustration: HUNTING HINTS.----HOW TO KEEP THE THING GOING DURING A
+SNOW.]
+
+ * * * * *
+
+OUR BOOKING-OFFICE
+
+ THE BARON'S Booking-Office is still decked about with holly,
+ For the Season that at any rate's conventionally "jolly,"
+ Is by no means wholly over, and the very hard-worked Baron
+ Feels rather like a sort of tired-out literary Charon,
+ With an over-laden ferry-boat, and passengers too numerous.
+ For seasonable "novelties"--and "notions" quaint and humorous
+ Still crowd on him, and claim his constant critical attention,
+ Some may escape his notice, but a few more he must mention
+ MARCUS WARD'S are good as usual, and his "Christmas Cheque Book"'s funny;
+ Though rather a sardonic "sell" to parties short of money.
+ CASTELL BROTHERS' Cards are charming, but the words "Printed in Germany,"
+ The patriotic Baron irk, or may he turn a Merman! He
+ Can't see why pictured prettiness should be beyond _home_-printing.
+ He doesn't want to dogmatise, but really can't help _hinting!_
+ _Scout's Head_, by LANGBRIDGE, boys will like. JEROME K. JEROME'S
+ _Stage-Land_,
+ Which BERNARD PARTRIDGE illustrates, might tickle e'en the sage land
+ Of Puritan Philistia at Clapham-Rise or Barnsbury.
+ And now let us the memory of Christmas Cards and yarns bury
+ In a right bowl of stingo, in the which the Baron cheerily
+ Drinks to his readers heartily, sincerely, and Happy-New-Year-ily!
+
+Once upon a time Mr. LEWIS CARROLL wrote a marvellously grotesque,
+fantastic, and humorous book called _Alice in Wonderland_, and on
+another occasion he wrote _Through the Looking-Glass_, in which _Alice_
+reappeared, and then the spring of Mr. LEWIS CARROLL'S fanciful humour
+apparently dried up, for he has done nothing since worth mentioning in
+the same breath with his two first works; and if his writings have been
+by comparison watery, unlike water, they have never risen by inherent
+quality to their original level. Of his latest book, called _Sylvie and
+Bruno_, I can make neither head nor tale. It seems a muddle of all
+sorts, including a little bit of Bible thrown in. It will be bought,
+because LEWIS CARROLL'S name is to it, and it will be enjoyed for the
+sake of Mr. FURNISS'S excellent illustrations, but for no other reason,
+that I can see. I feel inclined to carol to CARROLL, "O don't you
+remember sweet ALICE?" and, if so, please be good enough to wake her up
+again, if you can.
+
+M. FREDERIC MAYER'S International Almanack takes my breath away. It is
+overwhelmingly international. Most useful to the International
+Theatre-goer, as there are plans of all the principal theatres in
+Europe, with the seats numbered, so that you have only to wire (answer
+paid) to the Theatre Francais for _fauteuil d'orchestre_ Number 20, to
+Drury Lane in the same way, to the Operahaus, Berlin ("Open Haus" sounds
+so internationally hospitable) for _Parquet_ Number 200 (so as to get a
+good view), to the Wallner Theater, Berlin, for something of the same
+sort, or to La Scala, Milan, for the sixth _Sedie d'orchestra_ on the
+left (as the numbers are not given--why?) and you'll be accommodated.
+Then with ease the internationalist can learn when the Moon is full,
+_Pleine Lune_, _Vollmond_, _Luna Piena_ and _Luna Ilena_ in five
+languages. The Italian, the Spaniard, the French, the Englishman, the
+German and the Dutchman can find out all about the different
+watering-places of Europe, each one in his own native tongue, and all
+about "the Court of Arches" in London and Madrid. There is the Jewish
+and also the Mahommedan Calendar, but I see nothing about the Greek
+Kalends. I am not quite sure that the Bulgarians will be quite
+satisfied, and I should say, that the Aborigines of Central Africa will
+have a distinct grievance, which M. FREDERIC MAYER will rectify after an
+interview with Mr. STANLEY. It's a wonderful production, and as it gives
+postal rates and cab-fares in ever so many languages, it will be of
+great practical value to the traveller. But no list of cab-fares is
+perfect without a model row with the driver in eight languages,
+including some bad language and directions as to the shortest route to
+the nearest police court.
+
+Our good Doctor ROOSE _in urbe_, has just published a _brochure_,
+dealing with the origin, treatment, and prevention (for there is
+apparently no cure) of the fell disease to which, and for a multitude of
+whose victims, Father DAMIEN died a martyr. If in the Doctor's treatment
+of this subject after his own peculiar fashion _a la_ ROOSE, he can help
+to alleviate present suffering and materially assist the crusade now
+being undertaken against this common enemy, he will have contributed his
+share of energy in starting 1890 hopefully.
+
+Those who suffer from indigestion at this festive season, and wish to
+intensify the effects of the malady, will do well to read a new book
+entitled _Master of his Fate_, by J. MACLAREN COBBAN, who, if he does
+not write well, that is, judging his style from a hypercritical purist's
+point of view, yet contrives to interest you with a story almost as
+sensational as that of _Hyde and Jekyl_. The _Master of his Fate_ might
+have had for its second title, _Or, The Accomplished Modern Vampire_,
+the hero being a sort of a vampire, but not one of the good old school.
+
+BARON DE BOOK-WORMS & CO.
+
+ * * * * *
+
+[Illustration: "THE SERVANTS."
+
+_Lady Patroness_ (_Registry Office of Charitable Society_). "AND WHY ARE
+YOU LEAVING YOUR PRESENT PLACE?"
+
+_Small Applicant._ "PLEASE, 'M, THE LADY SAID SHE CAN DO WITH A LESS
+EXPERIENCED SERVANT!"]
+
+ * * * * *
+
+AMONG THE AMATEURS.
+
+No. II.--PREPARATION.
+
+SCENE.--_The Theatre of the provincial town of Blankbury. A company of
+Amateurs, the "Thespian Wanderers," are rehearsing the well-known Comedy
+of "Heads or Tails?" Amongst them are our friends_ BUCKSTONE BOLDERO,
+TIFFINGTON SPINKS, CHARLIE GUSHBY, _and_ HARRY HALL. _Besides these, we
+may note_ Colonel THOMAS CLUMK, _an ex-military Amateur, who devotes
+more time to acting small parts and talking big about them than he ever
+did to soldiering. Then there is_ ANDREW JARP, _a portly and elderly
+partner in a considerable firm of Solicitors, and an actor who, by long
+practice, has grown perfect in the part of a Family Butler. His office
+is in the City, and he drives down to it every morning in a private
+brougham, fitted with a looking-glass, by the help of which he studies
+the air and deportment characteristic of a modern Seneschal. He is a man
+of few words, off as well as on the stage; but his eyes flash fury if he
+hears his favourite Art derided by the scoffer._ HORATIO SPUFFIL _is
+also in the cast. He has dabbled in literature, but has lately abandoned
+such frivolity, and been elected a Member of the London County Council.
+A few rising Amateur Supers complete the male portion of the cast. The
+Ladies' parts are played by professional Actresses, of the Theatres
+Royal generally, who happen to be, as they pleasantly express it in
+their advertisements in the "Era," "resting"_--Miss DOROTHY SHUTTLE,
+Miss AMELIA SLIMPER, _who are new to the Amateurs,_ and KITTY LARKINGS,
+_who has "assisted" the "Thespian Wanderers" before._ BOLDERO _is Stage
+Manager. The Stage is occupied by_ SPINKS (_as_ Colonel DEBENHAM, _a
+retired Indian Officer_), GUSHBY (_as_ TOM TILBURY, _a comic Country
+Squire_), _and_ DOROTHY SHUTTLE (_as_ BELINDA, _Nurserymaid in the
+family of_ Lord _and_ Lady SHORTHORN, _represented respectively by_
+BOLDERO _and_ Miss AMELIA).
+
+_Boldero_ (_from the front of the house_). Stop a moment! You know we
+really must settle what we are to do about those two children that
+_Belinda's_ got to wheel on in the double perambulator. I asked the
+Duchess of MIDDLESEX to lend us her twins for a couple of nights, but
+she writes to say they've just got the measles. Isn't there any one here
+who can help us? [_The three Ladies titter._
+
+_Gushby_ (_in whose breast the leading part played by_ SPINKS _still
+rankles_). Why not let SPINKS do it? He's always wanting to "double"
+parts, and here's a splendid chance for him.
+
+_Spinks_ (_coldly_). That's _very_ funny--really _very_ funny, GUSHBY.
+It's a pity "Colonel DEBENHAM" (_alluding to his own role in the
+comedy_) isn't a _clown's_ part. I'd give it up to you right off, if it
+was. Ha, ha! (_bitterly_).
+
+_Colonel Clumk_. There's a man in my old regiment who's got two
+red-haired brats; but he wants ten shillings a night for 'em.
+
+_Boldero._ That's pretty stiff. However, I'll inspect them to-morrow.
+Let's get on a bit now. Come, SPINKS!
+
+_Spinks._ Where were we? (_With an air of intense annoyance._) These
+constant interruptions put one off so. Oh, yes, I remember. (_Resumes
+rehearsing the part of_ "Colonel DEBENHAM.") "Nursemaid, take those
+squalling infants away. I'm surprised at Lady SHORTHORN permitting them
+in the drawing-room. Wheel them away at once--at once, I say; or I'll
+make curry-powder of the lot of you!"
+
+_Miss Dorothy Shuttle_ (_as_ "BELINDA"). "Well, I'm sure; I never was so
+spoken to afore. (_To her imaginary children._) Did the horrid man scold
+them, then, pretty dears? (_To_ DEBENHAM.) You a Colonel? You ain't fit
+to be a General in the Salvation Army. Imperence!" [_Exit, wheeling
+an imaginary perambulator._
+
+_Boldero_ (_enthusiastically_). Excellent! That couldn't have been done
+better. When we get the perambulator and the babies, it's bound to go.
+(Miss DOROTHY SHUTTLE _is much pleased, and foresees several stalls
+being taken on the occasion of her next benefit._) Now, then (_to_
+SPINKS, _who thinks it a mistake that a Stage Manager should stop to
+praise anybody, with one exception, of course, at rehearsal_), SPINKS,
+hurry up a bit, hurry up!
+
+_Spinks._ My dear BOLDERO, I'm perfectly ready to begin as soon as ever
+the talking stops. I know my cues, I fancy; but it's quite hopeless to
+get on if _everybody_ wants to talk at the same moment. (_Resumes his
+part as_ "Colonel DEBENHAM," _shaking his fist at the departing_
+BELINDA.) "Impertinent minx! (_Turns furiously on_ GUSHBY, _who is on
+the stage in the character of_ TILBURY, _the comic Squire._) And you,
+Sir, what in the name of fifty thousand jackasses, do you mean by
+standing there grinning from ear to ear like a buck nigger? But I'll not
+stand it any longer, Sir, not for a moment. D'ye hear, you miserable
+turnip-faced bumpkin, d'ye hear?" (_Carried away by histrionic
+enthusiasm_, SPINKS _brings his fist down violently on the precise spot
+where a table ought to be, but is not, standing. As a natural result, he
+hits himself with much force on his leg. The others laugh, and the
+Ladies turn away giggling, feeling that they ought to be sympathetic.
+The unfortunate_ SPINKS _hurts himself considerably, and is furious.
+Coming, as it were, right out of the part, and being temporarily himself
+again, only in a rage, he addresses the Stage Manager._) Upon my soul,
+BOLDERO, this is perfectly infamous. How often have I begged you to get
+that table placed there _at all costs_, and time after time you forget
+it. I know what it is; you want to make me ridiculous. But you'll be
+d---- (_suddenly remembers that ladies are present, and substitutes a
+milder expletive_)--confoundedly sorry for yourself when you find I'm
+too lame to act, and the whole of your precious piece will be ruined.
+You'll none of you get notices worth twopence from the critics.
+[_Limps up and down the Stage._
+
+_Miss Amelia Slimper_ (_rather a novice, and anxious to make useful
+acquaintances among the distinguished Amateurs--to_ Miss KITTY,
+_whispering_). Are they very keen about notices?
+
+_Miss Kitty_ (_experienced in Amateurs_). Keen! I should think they
+were. They talk about nothing else when it's over.
+
+_Boldero_ (_peaceably_). Well, SPINKS, you know you smashed two tables
+last week, and I thought we agreed to rehearse without one. But I'll see
+it's there next time. Now then, JARP! Where's JARP? This is his
+entrance. Where the deuce is he? (_Enter_ JARP _as_ "Mr. BINNS, _Butler
+to_ Lord SHORTHORN"). Dear me, JARP, what have you been up to?
+
+_Jarp_ (_vexed_). What have I been up to? I'll tell you. I've been
+learning my part, and it would be a good thing if everybody were to
+follow my example, instead of talking all day.
+
+_Boldero._ JARP, don't be sarcastic. It doesn't suit you. Let's see if
+you know your part, after all this.
+
+JARP (_as_ BINNS, _without moving a muscle_). "'Er Ladyship's
+compliments, Colonel DEBENHAM, and she would like to see you."
+
+_Spinks_ (_as_ DEBENHAM). "Very well. Tell her I'll come."
+
+_Jarp_ (_as_ BINNS). "Yes, Sir."
+
+[_Exit_ JARP _as_ BINNS, _but immediately becomes_ JARP, _and complains
+to the young Ladies that these fellows never will rehearse properly. The
+professional Ladies sympathise with him, and admit that it is very
+provoking, and_ Miss AMELIA _takes the opportunity of expressing her
+confident opinion that he_, JARP, _will play his part admirably, and
+only wonders that he hasn't got more to do. Then somehow the
+conversation wanders towards professional matters, and the probability
+of_ Miss AMELIA _being engaged next season at a fashionable London
+Theatre, &c., &c._
+
+_Miss Dorothy_ (_aside, in a whisper, to_ Miss KITTY, _alluding to_
+JARP'S _recent exit_). Is that all he's got to say?
+
+_Miss Kitty_ (_in same tone to_ Miss DOROTHY). Not quite. He says, "'Er
+Ladyship is served!" in the next Act. A part like that takes a deal of
+learning.
+
+[_The rehearsal proceeds._ SPUFFIL _does wonders as "a young man about
+town";_ Colonel CLUMK _performs the part of a Country Clergyman in a
+manner suggestive rather of a Drill-sergeant than a Vicar._ BOLDERO
+_having praised_ SPINKS, _is pronounced by the latter to be
+unapproachable as_ Lord SHORTHORN. _In the Third Act_, HALL _sings his
+song about_ "the Boy in Buttons." _On the previous day, he had had a
+difference with_ SPINKS _and_ BOLDERO.
+
+_Boldero._ I think that song's out of place. What say you, SPINKS?
+
+_Spinks._ Well, it does sound just a trifle vulgar.
+
+_Boldero._ Yes. I think we shall have to cut it, HALL. It'll do for next
+year just as well. You can make it fit any piece?
+
+_Hall_ (_pale, but determined_). If that song goes, I go too. Oh, yes,
+SPINKS, it's all very well for you to be so blessed polite to BOLDERO,
+but you didn't seem to think much of his acting (_observes_ SPUFFIL
+_smiling_) no, nor of SPUFFIL'S either, when you spoke to me yesterday:
+and as for GUSHBY, why we all know what GUSHBY is.
+
+[_All join in the fight, which continues for ten minutes._
+
+_Boldero_ (_looking at his watch_). Good heavens! we shall miss our
+train, and I've promised to look in on IRVING to-night. He'd never
+forgive me if I didn't turn up.
+
+[_Smiles of quiet intelligence appear on the faces of the other
+Amateurs, accompanied with a few winks, which like "laughter in Court,"
+are "immediately suppressed." Exeunt omnes, severally, each pleased with
+himself, and more or less disgusted with everybody else._
+
+_Miss Amelia_ (_to_ KITTY). What a funny lot! Are they like that every
+year?
+
+_Miss Kitty._ Yes, always. But (_confidentially_) they do come out
+strong for a "ben."
+
+[_They retire to their lodgings for a little quiet tea and a rest._
+
+ * * * * *
+
+A MID-WINTER'S NIGHT'S DREAM.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Surely AUGUSTUS DRURIOLANUS has triumphed and beaten the record! For the
+last nine years it has been the cry, "There never was so good a
+Pantomime as _this_ one," and now again the shout is repeated. _Jack and
+the Beanstalk_ is the eleventh of the series, and the best. "How it is
+done?" only AUGUSTUS can answer. The Annual (no longer, alas! written by
+the gentle and genial E. L. B.) has an excellent book. It contains
+something of all sorts. Now we have SHAKSPEARE'S fairy-land with
+_Oberon_, _Titania_, and _Puck_, then HARRY NICHOLL'S Royal Palace with
+Mr. HERBERT CAMPBELL and Miss HARRIET VERNON, then Madame KATTI LANNER'S
+Market Place, with a number of the most promising of her pupils (of all
+ages too, from the tiny child to the "ceased-growing-a-long-while-ago")
+then Mrs. SIMPSON'S Back Garden, with Mr. GEORGE CONQUEST junior as a
+giant, Mr. DAN LENO as a widow, and the Brothers GRIFFITHS as the Cow
+Company Limited, and lastly, controlling the whole, we have Mr. AUGUSTUS
+HARRIS who is seen at his very best when we reach the Giant's Library
+and the realms of Olympus.
+
+And this Pantomime is not only beautiful but amusing. It has two grand
+processions, but this year, by good stage-management, neither is
+tedious. The Shakspearean Heroines do a little play-acting between
+whiles, and the gods and goddesses, or rather their attendants,
+manoeuvre before the eye becomes weary of watching their approach. For
+instance, Mars has scarcely time to swagger down to the foot-lights in
+the most appropriate and approved fashion, before he finds himself
+called upon to stand near a private box on the prompt side, to be well
+out of the way of his dancing terpsichorean satellites. _Lady Macbeth_
+has hardly "taken the daggers" before _King Lear_ (Mr. LORRAINE) is
+bringing a furtive tear to the eyes of all beholders (_one_ tear is
+sufficient at Christmastide) by his touching pantomime in the presence
+of his three fair daughters.
+
+Then, too, Mr. HARRY PAYNE has _his_ chance, and makes the most of it.
+It was quite pleasant to see the Clown on Boxing-Night, and those who
+left the theatre mindful of trains that will not delay the hours fixed
+for their departure, must have determined (if they were wise people) to
+come again to witness the remainder of the performances. Then those who
+liked acrobats had the Leopold Troupe, and a strong man who lifted up a
+horse (but did not have his own name, or the name of his charger, on the
+programme) to delight them. And it was also a pleasing reflection to
+remember that the entertainment was the result of solid hard work,
+combined with excellent judgment and taste. Paterfamilias could say to
+Young Hopeful home for the holidays, "See here, my lad, the lessee of
+our National Theatre could never have caused us so much thorough
+enjoyment had he not worked with a will that you will do well to imitate
+when you return to Dr. SWISHTALES' Academy at the conclusion of the
+Christmas vacation." And so all can cry with genuine enthusiasm:--"_Ave_,
+AUGUSTUS! _Ave_, DRURIOLANUS! _Ave_, IMPERATOR! _Ave! Ave!_--and NICHOLLS."
+
+ * * * * *
+
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