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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 02:32:28 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 02:32:28 -0700 |
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C. (Francis Cowley) 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, Vol. 104, May 13, 1893</p> +<p>Author: Various</p> +<p>Editor: F. C. (Francis Cowley) Burnand</p> +<p>Release Date: September 27, 2008 [eBook #26708]</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, VOL. 104, MAY 13, 1893***</p> +<p> </p> +<h3>E-text prepared by Lesley Halamek, Juliet Sutherland,<br /> + and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (http://www.pgdp.net)</h3> +<p> </p> +<hr class="pg" /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page217" id="page217"></a>[pg 217]</span> + +<h1>Punch, or the London Charivari</h1> + +<h2>Volume 104, May 13th 1893</h2> + +<h3><i>edited by Sir Francis Burnand</i></h3> + +<hr class="full" /> + + +<h2>MIXED NOTIONS.</h2> + +<h4>No. X.—THE BEHRING-SEA ARBITRATION.</h4> + + +<p class="center">(<i>Scene and Persons as usual.</i> <i>The Conversation has already begun.</i>)</p> + +<p><i>First Well-informed Man</i> (<i>concluding a tirade</i>). —— so what I +want to know is this: are we or are we not to submit to the +Yankees? It's all very well talking about Chicago Exhibitions and +all that, but if they're going to capture our ships and prevent us +killing seals, why, the sooner we tell 'em to go to +blue blazes the better. And as for its being a +<i>mare clausum</i>——</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width:150px;"><a href="images/217a.png"><img src="images/217a-150.png" width="150" height="255" alt="" /></a></div> + +<p><i>Inquirer</i> (<i>interrupting</i>). Who was she? What's +she got to do with it?</p> + +<p><i>First W. I. M.</i> (<i>laughing vigorously</i>). Ha! ha! +that's a good 'un.</p> + +<p><i>Inquirer</i> (<i>nettled</i>). Oh, laugh away, laugh away. +That's you all over.</p> + +<p><i>First W. I. M.</i> My dear chap, I'm very sorry, +but I really couldn't help it. There's no woman +in the business at all. <i>Mare clausum</i> merely +means the place where they catch the seals, you +know; <i>mare</i>, Latin for sea.</p> + +<p><i>Inquirer.</i> Oh! I should have known that +directly, if you'd only pronounced it properly. But what does +<i>clausum</i> mean?</p> + +<p><i>First W. I. M.</i> Well, of course, that means—well, a clause, don't +you know. It's in the treaty.</p> + +<p><i>Average Man</i> (<i>looking up from his paper</i>). It used to be the Latin +for "closed," but I suppose it's altered now.</p> + +<p><i>First W. I. M.</i> (<i>incredulously</i>). It can't mean that, anyhow. +Who ever heard of a closed sea, I should like to know?</p> + +<p><i>Second W. I. M.</i> (<i>hazarding a suggestion</i>). It <i>might</i> mean a +harbour, +you know, or something of that sort.</p> + +<p><i>Average Man.</i> I daresay it <i>might</i> mean that, but it doesn't happen +to be a harbour (<i>relapses into paper</i>).</p> + +<p><i>Second W. I. M.</i> Oh, well, I only made the suggestion. +<span style="float: right">[<i>A pause.</i></span></p> + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;"><i>Inquirer.</i> But what are they arbitrating about in Paris? It says +(<i>reading from newspaper</i>) "When Mr. <span class="sc">Carter</span>, the United States +Counsel, had concluded his speech, he was complimented by the +President, the Baron <span class="sc">de Courcel</span>, who told him he had spoken on +behalf of humanity." I thought old <span class="sc">Carnot</span> was President of the +French Republic.</p> + +<p><i>First W. I. M.</i> So he is.</p> + +<p><i>Inquirer</i>. But this paper says Baron <span class="sc">de Courcel</span> is President.</p> + +<p><i>Second W. I. M.</i> Oh, I suppose that's one of <span class="sc">Carnot</span>'s titles, +All these blessed foreigners are Barons, or something of that sort.</p> + +<p><i>Inquirer.</i> Ah, I suppose that must be it. But what have the +French got to do with the Behring Sea? I thought it was all +between us and the Yankees.</p> + +<p><i>First W. I. M.</i> So it is—but the French are arbitrating. That's +how they come into the business. I can't say, personally, I like +these arbitrations. We're always arbitrating now, and giving +everything away. If we think we're right, why can't we say so, +and stick to it, and let the French, and the Yankees, and the +Russians, and all the rest of 'em, take it from us, if they can?</p> + +<p><i>Second W. I. M.</i> Take what from us?</p> + +<p><i>First W. I. M.</i> Why, whatever it happens to be, the Behring +Sea, or anything else. We're so deuced afraid of everybody now, +we never show fight; it's perfectly sickening. But of course you +can't expect anything else from old <span class="sc">Gladstone</span>.</p> + +<p><i>Second W. I. M.</i> That's right—shove it all on to old <span class="sc">Gladstone</span>. +But you're wrong this time. It was <span class="sc">Jo Chamberlain</span>, one of your +own blessed Unionists, that you're so proud of, who arranged this +arbitration.</p> + +<p><i>First W. I. M.</i> I know that, my dear boy; but <span class="sc">Chamberlain</span> +was a Radical then; so where are you now?<span style="float: right">[<i>A pause.</i></span></p> + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;"><i>Inquirer</i> (<i>who has continued his reading, suddenly, with a puzzled +air</i>). I say, you know, this is too much of a good thing, bringing the +Russians into the business. It says—(<i>reads</i>)—"documents were +submitted, on behalf of the United States, to prove that Russia had +never abandoned her sovereign rights in the manner suggested by +Great Britain." How, on earth, does Russia manage to crop up +everywhere? And where is this confounded Behring Sea?</p> + +<p><i>Second W. I. M.</i> (<i>vaguely</i>). It's somewhere in America, or +Newfoundland, or thereabouts.</p> + +<p><i>Inquirer.</i> But how about Russia?</p> + +<p><i>Second W. I. M.</i> Oh, Russia shoves her oar in whenever we get +into a difficulty of any kind anywhere.</p> + +<p><i>Inquirer</i> (<i>persisting</i>). Yes—but how can she have any "sovereign +rights" in America?</p> + +<p><i>Second W. I. M.</i> (<i>haughtily, but evasively</i>). My dear fellow, if +you had followed the thing properly, you wouldn't ask the question. +There's no time now to explain it all to you, as it's very complicated, +and goes back a long way. But you may take it from me +that Russia has got certain rights, and that she means to make +things as disagreeable for us as she can.<span style="float: right">[<i>A pause.</i></span></p> + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;"><i>Inquirer.</i> It's rather a rum start, isn't it? sending out Sir +<span class="sc">Charles Russell</span> and Sir <span class="sc">Richard Webster</span>. They're on opposite +sides of politics.</p> + +<p><i>First W. I. M.</i> That's just why they send 'em. <span class="sc">Russell</span> has +got to put the Liberal view, and <span class="sc">Webster</span> the Conservative.</p> + +<p><i>Inquirer.</i> Of course, of course; I never thought of that. By the +way, have you ever seen a seal?</p> + +<p><i>First W. I. M.</i> They've got one at the Zoo. Catches +fish, and kisses the keeper, and all that sort of game.</p> + +<p><i>Inquirer.</i> What, that big beast that looks as if it was made of +india-rubber, with long whiskers and a sort of fish-tail?</p> + +<p><i>First W. I. M.</i> That's it.</p> + +<p><i>Inquirer</i> (<i>with profound disgust</i>). Well, I <i>am</i> blessed! Is +<i>that</i> all +they're jawing about?<span style="float: right">[<i>Terminus.</i></span></p> +<br clear="all" /> +<hr /> + +<h3>IN MEMORIAM—"THE DEVIL'S OWN."</h3> + +<blockquote><p> +["Notwithstanding the efforts made by the Inns of Court Rifles, supported +by the Authorities of the Inns, to increase the strength of the corps, the +additional enrolments lately made have been judged by the War Office not +sufficient to warrant the continued maintenance of the corps as an independent +battalion; and orders have been given for its reduction from six to four +companies, for the withdrawal of the Adjutant, and for the attachment of the +corps to the 4th Middlesex Rifles."—<i>Daily Paper.</i>] +</p></blockquote> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Oh, how bright were the days when we all of us saw</p> +<p>In their martial equipment the limbs of the Law.</p> +<p>With their helmets and rifles, and pouches complete,</p> +<p>(May I quote from the ladies), they "really looked sweet."</p> +<p>The Colonel, the Major, and all their attendants,</p> +<p>Appeared not as counsel, since all were defendants;</p> +<p>And no soldierly spirit could equal the Bar's,</p> +<p>When Themis, its goddess, was mated with Mars.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>No more shall they charm us; harsh Fate with her shears</p> +<p>Has severed the thread of the Law's Volunteers.</p> +<p>And, whatever the cause was, 'twas certainly true</p> +<p>That these fee-less defenders at last were too few.</p> +<p>So now they're absorbed, and, no longer the same,</p> +<p>They lose by attachment their being and name.</p> +<p>And the old Devil's Own, from their discipline loosed,</p> +<p>Have gone to their owner; <i>i.e.</i>, they're <i>re-duced</i>.</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr /> + +<h3>ENGLISH AS SHE IS SPOKE.</h3> + +<p class="center">(<i>In the House and out of it.</i>)</p> + +<p>The Parliamentary Committee appointed to consider the best mode +of reporting in the House, have decided that it will be advisable to +allow Members to have an opportunity of revising their speeches after +they have been "taken down" verbatim. The result of this suggestion +will probably be as follows:—</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width:150px;"><a href="images/217b.png"><img src="images/217b-150.png" width="150" height="321" alt="'Spoke? Rather!'" /></a> +<p class="center">"Spoke? Rather!"</p></div> + +<h3>MR. SYMPLE-STUTTER'S SPEECH.</h3> + +<p class="center">(<i>Verbatim Report.</i>)</p> + +<p>Mr. <span class="sc">Speaker</span>, Sir, What I mean to say, I +venture to think is that the British Empire—yes +Sir—that is what I venture to think, and +<i>I</i> am a young Member. For I do not believe—no +not now—or in fact, when otherwise. For +envy and malice are together. I venture to +think that sometimes the British Empire. Yes +Sir, for the enemies are at our gates with the +past and the future. When the sun sinks—not +that it follows—at least so I venture to +think. You may believe me, Sir, that it is +farthest from my thoughts when the British +Empire and the sinking sun which I venture to +think is—in point of fact the setting sun, and +I venture to think the British Empire, and that +is I venture to think was my proposal in the past—which +has the terrors of the present from generation to generation.</p> + +<p class="center">(<i>Revised Report.</i>)</p> + +<p>Mr. <span class="sc">Speaker</span>, Sir, at a time like the present—when the enemies of +the Empire are clamouring at our gates, when envy walks hand-in-hand +with malice, and our fate is in our own hands—we should be +bold and resolute. It is not for a young Member like myself to +point out the course that we should pursue, but I venture to think +that, by ignoring the terrors of the past with the courage of the +present, we shall avert the dangers of the future. It has been said—and +truly said—that the sun never sets upon the British Empire. +Let us believe in that sun, and find in its rays an earnest of that +glory which was the birthright of our ancestors, and which, should +be the birthright of our descendants from generation to generation.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page218" id="page218"></a>[pg 218]</span> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:600px;"><a href="images/218.png"><img src="images/218-430.png" width="430" height="490" alt="ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA." /></a> +<h3>ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA.</h3> + +<p><i>Antony</i> ... <span class="sc">John Bull.</span> <i>Cleopatra</i> ... <span class="sc">Egypt.</span> +<i>Mecænas</i> ... <span class="sc">H. L-b-ch-re.</span> <i>Enobarbus</i> ... +<span class="sc">Gl-dst-ne.</span></p> + +<p><i>Mecænas</i> (<i>aside to</i> <span class="sc">Enobarbus</span>). "<span class="sc">Now Antony must leave +her utterly.</span>"</p> + +<p><i>Enobarbus</i> (<i>aside to</i> <span class="sc">Mecænas</span>). "<span class="sc">Never; he will +not.</span>" (<i>Apart.</i>) "<span class="sc">At least, not yet.</span>"</p> + + +<p style="float: right;"><i>Ant. and Cleo., Act II. Scene 2, adapted.</i></p></div> + + +<hr /> + +<h3>MR. GLADSTONE'S CHANGE OF NAME.</h3> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>He was "The People's <span class="sc">William</span>." He will</p> +<p>Be known in future as "Our Home-Rule <span class="sc">Bill</span>."</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p><span class="sc">High Notes for a Violin.</span>—Last week a Stradivarius (<i>vide +Daily News</i>), a real genuine "Strad," sold at <span class="sc">Puttick and Simpson's</span> +for £860.</p> <p class="author">Fiddle de L. S. Dee!</p></blockquote> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class="sc">In the Time of the Restauration.</span>—They're going it! Feeding, +feeding everywhere, and not a bit to eat—without paying for +it pretty heavily. We gather from a note in <i>Sala's Journal</i>, that +<span class="sc">Long's</span> Hotel now possesses a "Restauration." Of course, those +who live in "Short's Gardens," won't be able to patronise "<span class="sc">Long's</span>." +The management is announced as under the direction of a "<span class="sc">M. +Diette</span>," and, as he has obtained no inconsiderable renown (so we +are informed) at the Berkeley and Bristol, patrons of <span class="sc">Long's</span> may +expect something superior, by way of "<span class="sc">Diette</span>-ary."</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page219" id="page219"></a>[pg 219]</span> + +<hr /> + +<h3>MR. PUNCH TO THE BETROTHED PAIR.</h3> + +<p class="center">(<i>The Duke of York and the Princess May of Teck.</i>)</p> + +<h4><span class="sc">May 3, 1893.</span></h4> + + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>'Mid the bird-chorus of the May,</p> +<p class="i2">From glade and garden madly ringing,</p> +<p>There sounds one welcome note to-day,</p> +<p class="i2">Round the glad world its way 'tis winging.</p> +<p>You hear—you hear the general cheer</p> +<p class="i2">That greets it! 'Twill suffice to show you</p> +<p>That all who love you joy to hear.</p> +<p class="i2">And all who love are all who know you!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Soft music of the marriage-bell</p> +<p class="i2">Seems woven 'midst the world's Spring Voices.</p> +<p>In truth, there's little need to tell</p> +<p class="i2">How in the prospect <i>Punch</i> rejoices.</p> +<p>His well-pleased eye has watched your way;</p> +<p class="i2">His loyal heart has shared your sadness;</p> +<p>Now on this bright Betrothal-Day</p> +<p class="i2">Your gladness he acclaims—with gladness!</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr /> + +<p>How is Mr. <span class="sc">F. Luke Fildes</span>, +R.A.?—In excellent health we +sincerely hope, but from seeing +daily, in the front sheet of the +<i>Times</i>, an advertisement commencing +"The Doctor after <span class="sc">Luke +Fildes</span>, R.A." Many friends +began to feel anxious. We are +glad to be able to add, that, in +answer to the numerous inquiries +made at 39, Old Bond Street, a +most satisfactory report has been +obtained.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:500px;"><a href="images/219.png"><img src="images/219-370.png" width="370" height="487" alt="'HONOURS EASY.'" /></a> +<h3>"HONOURS EASY."</h3> + +<p><i>First Undergraduate.</i> "<span class="sc">I say, Old Man, did you win your +Money?</span>"</p> + +<p><i>Second Un.</i> "<span class="sc">'Course not; won Somebody else's. <i>You</i> lost +<i>your</i> Coin, didn't you?</span>"</p> + +<p><i>First Un.</i> "<span class="sc">My Coin! What are you talking about? I lost +the Guv'nor's!</span>"</p></div> + +<hr /> + + +<h3>MUSE v. MECHANIC.</h3> + +<blockquote><p>["Mr. <span class="sc">Norman Gale</span>—the Muse +of orchards and pretty girls with +polished knees; a charm often left +unsung."</p> +<p class="author">—<i>Mr. Andrew Lang on the +Poems of "A Country Muse."</i>]</p></blockquote> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>"A Country Muse" sings, if you please,</p> +<p>Of pretty girls "with polished knees"!</p> +<p class="i2">One would not quite demolish</p> +<p>The graphic rhymester's stock-in-trade,</p> +<p>But if bare knees must be displayed,</p> +<p class="i2">He <i>might</i> forego the polish.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>It smacks of fustian! Workmen's "bags"</p> +<p>Are very "polished" where the "sags"</p> +<p class="i2">From salient joints protuberant,</p> +<p>Grow shiny with continual friction;</p> +<p>But "polished knees" in poet's diction</p> +<p class="i2">Strike one as too exuberant.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Say varnished elbows, burnished knuckles,</p> +<p>And you'll elicit scornful chuckles</p> +<p class="i2">From Muse and from Mechanic!</p> +<p>Selections from the terms of trade</p> +<p>Would put, I'm very much afraid,</p> +<p class="i2">Parnassus in a panic.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>The bards are sometimes rather free</p> +<p>With feminine anatomy;</p> +<p class="i2">Their catalogues erotic</p> +<p>Of pretty girls' peculiar "points,"</p> +<p>Their eyes and limbs, and curves and joints,</p> +<p class="i2">Are often idiotic.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>But if we must be told, sometimes,</p> +<p>Ladies have limbs, then that your rhymes</p> +<p class="i2">May not offend or fog any,</p> +<p>Don't <i>mechanise</i> a maiden's charms;</p> +<p>Leave "polishing" to legs and arms</p> +<p class="i2">Of walnut or mahogany.</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr /> + +<h3>RHYMES ON THE DECAY OF ROMANCE.</h3> + +<p class="center">(<i>Suggested by Mr. Frederic Harrison's recent Article in "The Forum."</i>)</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Oh, list to Mr. <span class="sc">Harrison</span> lamenting from <i>The Forum</i>,</p> +<p>Imagination done to death by latter-day decorum!</p> +<p>"Good boys and girls" we've all become, and modern men and maidens see</p> +<p>The world with such prosaic eyes, Romance is in decadency!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>We're too absorbed in Politics, enamoured of Monotony,</p> +<p>To give an ear to Geniuses (supposing we had <i>got</i> any!)</p> +<p>But First-Class in our Fiction Mr. <span class="sc">Harrison</span> abolishes,</p> +<p>Indeed most Authors travel Third, their talent so toll-lollish is.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>It's all the <i>Fin-de-Siècle's</i> fault—and this, of course, a true bill is;</p> +<p>For Genius puts its shutters up when centuries pass their jubilees!</p> +<p>As Mr. <span class="sc">Harrison</span> can prove by references historical,—</p> +<p>And any utterance of his is equal to an oracle.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>We cannot stand a novel now, he says, if there's a shock in it;</p> +<p>Prefer our heroine angular, her eye must have a cock in it,</p> +<p>Unless she's dull and middle-aged, no sympathy have <i>we</i> with her,</p> +<p>Her sole excitement is to ask a plainer friend to tea with her!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>He thinks, were <i>Pickwick</i> written now, we'd view it with a cooler eye,</p> +<p>And term the Trial Scene a piece of "riotous tomfoolery;"</p> +<p>While <i>Jane Eyre's</i> thrilling narrative of <i>Rochester's</i> sad revelries</p> +<p>Of "shilling shockers" scarcely would to-day above the level rise!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>An age that's given up its gas to read by Electricity</p> +<p>Would naturally be repelled by <span class="sc">Thackeray's</span> causticity,</p> +<p>And scorn the characters of <span class="sc">Scott</span>, because they had Glengarries on,</p> +<p>An inference which is obvious—to Mr. <span class="sc">Frederic Harrison</span>!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>How scathingly does he denounce our Literature degenerate,</p> +<p>With not a real Romancer left—or only two at any rate!</p> +<p>By "desperate expedients," each the old tradition carries on—</p> +<p>"But it's no good"—as they're informed by Mr. <span class="sc">Frederic Harrison</span>.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>For Mr. <span class="sc">Stevenson</span> can write no stories worth hurraying at,</p> +<p>While he upon Pacific Isle persists in <i>Crusoe</i> playing at!</p> +<p>And Mr. <span class="sc">Kipling</span>'s ceased to count—no heart in what he does is there—</p> +<p>He longs for death in far Soudan, a-fighting Fuzzy-Wuzzies there!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>So we've only Mr. <span class="sc">Meredith</span>—(oh, what a sad disgrace it is!)</p> +<p>Though Mr. <span class="sc">Blackmore</span> writes romance—how poor and commonplace it is!</p> +<p>While Messrs. <span class="sc">Thomas Hardy</span>, <span class="sc">Black</span>, and <span class="sc">Besant</span>, it would seem, are all</p> +<p>Unworthy serious notice, mere nonentities ephemeral!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Some people like Miss <span class="sc">Braddon</span>, Mrs. <span class="sc">Oliphant</span>, Miss <span class="sc">Broughton</span>, too.</p> +<p>They're only lady-novelists—so serious readers <i>oughtn't</i> to,</p> +<p>And those who've been convinced by his invidious comparisons,</p> +<p>In future will eschew romance—excepting Mr. <span class="sc">Harrison's</span>.</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class="sc">The Darwinian Theory Exemplified.</span>—At the Zoo is now +being exhibited "Three White-tailed Gnus,"—"The Latest Gnus." +with the best possible intelligence,—"and a Black-capped Gibbon." +This last is evidently a descendant of the great historian; though, if +this exemplifies "the survival of the fittest," where are the others +of the race? Then "Black-capped" sounds ominous, as if this +particular Gibbon stood self-condemned, and was soon to disappear. +Should this be the case, the Zoo Authorities ought to advertise the +fact, and give visitors a chance before it is too late. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page220" id="page220"></a>[pg 220]</span> +</p> + +<hr /> + +<h3>ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.</h3> + +<p class="center"><span class="sc">Extracted From the Diary of Toby, M.P.</span></p> + +<p><i>House of Commons, Monday Night May 1.</i>—Demonstrated in +Debate on Second Reading Home-Rule Bill that House may talk and +talk through twelve long nights, and not affect single vote—not even +<span class="sc">Saunders's</span>. To-night shown how a single speech may cause to +collapse what was expected and intended to be big Debate. It was +Mr. G. performed the miracle. Looked in at House on his way +from Downing Street, where he had received deputation on Eight +Hours Question, and delivered important speech. That might have +served as day's work for ordinary man, Mr. G., not to put too fine +a point upon it, is not ordinary man. Being here, sat listening to +<span class="sc">Dilke</span> with close attention. <span class="sc">Dilke</span> thinks time has come to +evacuate +Egypt. Stated his case in luminous speech; sustained his reputation +of knowing more about Egyptian Question than most men +except perhaps <span class="sc">Tommy Bowles</span>.</p> + +<p>Mr. G. made no outward and visible sign of intention to follow; +took no notes, and sometimes, as he sat with drooping arms and +closed eyes, seemed to sleep. <span class="sc">Dilke</span> done and down, he sat bolt +upright, looked round with almost startled air, "Well, really," he +seemed to be saying to himself, "since I am here, and no one else +is disposed to follow, I might as well say a few words."</p> + +<p>Spoke for half an hour, without +reference to a note, and without faltering +for a word. Preserved throughout +that studious assumption of having +accidentally looked in which marked +his appearance at table. Evidently +desired to minimise as much as possible +importance of occasion. Subject +broached, he was, possibly, expected +to say something; certainly not going +to make a speech, much less deliver +oration. Carried out this subtle fancy +to such extent that, pitching voice on +low conversational tone, sometimes +difficult to catch full length of sentences. +This added to impressiveness +of scene. Crowded House sitting +breathless; Members opposite leaning +forward lest they might miss a phrase. +Everyone conscious that at the door +also listening were jealous France, the +wily Turk, the interested Egyptian, +the not entirely disinterested <span class="sc">Czar</span>, +and the other Great Powers concerned +for peace of Europe.</p> + +<p>Mr. G., for all his affectation of unpremeditation, +evidently had in mind +these listeners at the door. To their +shadowy presence was, for him, added +consciousness of keen eyes watching +him from all quarters of the House; +some of his friends waiting for sign of +readiness to quit Egypt; the Opposition +ready to catch at any token of tendency to scuttle. Occasional +passages he delivered at rapid rate; but you could see him weighing +every word with due consideration of these manifold and conflicting +interests and influences.</p> + +<p>When he sat down, there was consciousness that the massive +figure of important Debate that had loomed over House whilst +<span class="sc">Dilke</span> was speaking had melted away. <span class="sc">Jokim</span> and <span class="sc">Gorst</span> +had intended +to speak from Front Bench; great authorities on Foreign +Policy in other parts of House had proposed to say something, more +or less soothing. Mr. G. had left nothing for anyone to say, unless +it were <span class="sc">Alpheus Cleophas</span>, and the <span class="sc">Talented Tommy</span>, who, +sitting immediately opposite the <span class="sc">Premier</span>, had, whilst he spoke, +taken voluminous notes, only occasionally withdrawing eyes from +manuscript to fix them with look of calm distrust upon the aged and +unconscious statesman.</p> + +<p>"I always like, when I look in," said <span class="sc">Marjoribanks</span>, smiling +beneficently from the Bar, "to find <span class="sc">Tommy</span> in his place, taking notes. +Gives one a sense of security. I feel, when I'm in the Lobby, +looking after things, it's all right in the House. <span class="sc">Browning</span> said +something of that sort. Don't remember exactly how it ran; +something in this way:</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width:300px;"><a href="images/220.png"><img src="images/220-300.png" width="300" height="312" alt="A PATRON OF OLD CHINA." /></a> +<h3 style="margin-top: 0;">A PATRON OF OLD CHINA.</h3> + +<p class="center" style="margin-top: -1em;">(<i>Vide "China Bowles Collection."</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="poem" style="margin-top: -0.5em;"> <div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="sc">Tommy Bowles</span> is in his place;</p> +<p>It's all right with the Empire."</p> + </div> </div> + +<p><i>Business done.</i>—Mr. G. excelled himself.</p> + +<p><i>Tuesday.</i>—Seven-leagued Boots not needed by <span class="sc">Talented Tommy</span>. +He moves about universe with ease and grace, unmindful of mountains, +regardless of ravines, reckless of rivers, oblivious of oceans. +Last night, Forty Centuries looked down upon him whilst he showed +how, in Egypt, Mr. G. is wrong, and <span class="sc">Dilke</span>, who criticised Ministerial +policy, is not right. To-night he stands on the Roof of the World, +a solitary, colossal figure upright on the lone Pamirs. His attitude +is of manifold mien. Defiant of Russia, suspicious of <span class="sc">Rosebery</span>, +patronising towards Afghanistan, he takes young China familiarly +by the elbow, and bids it be of good cheer, for <span class="sc">Tommy Bowles</span> is its +friend. Since <span class="sc">Napoleon</span> crossed the Alps, and was caught in the +act by the brush of the painter, the world has not seen so moving a +picture as <span class="sc">Tommy</span> throned on the grandly desolate Pamirs.</p> + +<p>House almost empty whilst the Talented One discoursed on +the subject. Mr. G., who misses nothing, happily in his place, +listening with eager hand at ear whilst <span class="sc">Tommy</span> spoke familiarly +of Asiatic rivers and mountains, not one with name of less +than five syllables. <span class="sc">Dicky Temple</span>, who really knows something +about this mysterious region, looked on in blank amazement at +<span class="sc">Tommy's</span> erudition. <span class="sc">Edward Grey</span>, who would presently have to +answer this damaging attack, tried to seem indifferent. But his +young cheek paled when <span class="sc">Tommy</span> put his ruthless finger on that +Foreign Office dispatch, out of which a line of print had been +dropped. This a Machiavellian device that had hitherto escaped +detection. <span class="sc">Tommy's</span> falcon eye had noted it, his relentless foot had +followed up the tracks, and he had discovered, on reference to the +original, that the criminally-deleted line of print embodied a reference +to the Oxus. That was all. "Only the Oxus!" he said, with +withering sarcasm. Then changing +his tone and manner, he shook a minatory +forefinger at the shrinking form of +the <span class="sc">Premier</span>, and cried aloud, in voice +strengthened with long warring with +the winds on the Pamirs: "Sir, the +stream of the Oxus has been entirely +omitted from this paragraph."</p> + +<p>"Poor Mr. G.!" said <span class="sc">W. J. Lowther</span>, +present in his capacity as Ex-Under-Secretary +for Foreign Affairs. +"What with <span class="sc">Labby</span> one night and +<span class="sc">Tommy Bowles</span> the next, he has a sad +time of it."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said <span class="sc">Plunket</span>, sole companion +on the Front Bench. "It's a +hard fate for a Prime Minister to stand +between L. and <span class="sc">Tommy</span>."</p> + +<p><i>Business done.</i>—Miscellaneous talk +on going into Committee of Supply.</p> + +<p><i>Thursday.</i>—Little difficulty arisen +in connection with Budget. <span class="sc">Squire</span> +faced by deficit of million and half. +This he met by expedient that will be +historical, as affording <span class="sc">Jokim</span> opportunity +for a popular jape. The <span class="sc">Squire</span> +has dropped his penny in the slot, in +accordance with directions, pulls out +the drawer, and finds there is something +more than the sum necessary to +balance the year's account. That is +all very well; but there are some +amateur <span class="sc">Chancellors</span> of the <span class="sc">Exchequer</span> +who would do great things with the odd £20,000 or £30,000 +which remains as surplus. <span class="sc">Clark</span> wants Graduated Income-tax; +<span class="sc">Bartley</span> proposes Abatement on Incomes below £200; whilst +<span class="sc">Grant Lawson</span> would let farmers off with half the proposed increase. +Best of all is, <span class="sc">Alpheus Cleophas</span>, who would straightway abolish +the tax on tea. The keen insight of <span class="sc">Alpheus</span> notes the little +difficulty about the deficit.</p> + +<p>"The <span class="sc">Chancellor</span> of the <span class="sc">Exchequer</span>," he observed, in his most +judicial manner, "may ask me to suggest another source of +revenue." The <span class="sc">Squire</span> pricked up his ears; the Committee sat +attentive. If <span class="sc">Alpheus Cleophas</span> had given his great mind to +consideration +of the subject, it might be regarded as settled. All +waited for his next utterances. "That," he continued, in steely tones, +"is the <span class="sc">Chancellor</span> of the <span class="sc">Exchequer's</span> business. Mine is to +carry +out the Newcastle Programme." <span class="sc">Alpheus Cleophas</span> thereupon +resumed his seat, leaving the <span class="sc">Squire</span> gloomily facing the dead wall +of his deficit.</p> + +<p><i>Business done.</i>—Budget Bill passed report stage.</p> + +<p><i>Friday Night.</i>—Some young bloods below Gangway, on Ministerial +side, in distinctly low spirits. On Tuesday night, stage of +Budget Bill being taken, with ten minutes to spare, <span class="sc">Asquith</span> +nimbly moved reference of Employers' Liability Bill to Grand Committee. +Opposition, who want it referred to Select Committee, were +under impression Mr. G. had promised discussion should not be +taken till Thursday or Friday. Last night <span class="sc">Chamberlain</span> protested +that they had been betrayed, and deceived. Young bloods below +Gangway disposed to chuckle over this spectacle. Mr. G., on contrary, +takes it seriously to heart. Having got Bill referred to Grand +Committee, positively agrees to rescind Order, and begin all over +again.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page221" id="page221"></a>[pg 221]</span> + +<p>"It's very seldom," says the <span class="sc">Sage of +Queen Anne's Gate</span>, in most melancholy +mood, "that our side show themselves capable +of doing a smart thing. When, by chance, +it is accomplished, Mr. G. comes along, and +coolly undoes it."</p> + +<p>To-day, nearly two hours spent in discussing +question; Bill, eventually, remitted +to Grand Committee, as it had been left at +midnight on Tuesday.</p> + +<p>"Shan't play!" cries <span class="sc">Chamberlain</span>. +"All very well for you, with your majority, +to bowl us over, but you won't gain any +time by it. You may take a horse to the +Grand Committee, but you can't make him +discuss your Bill."</p> + +<p><i>Business done.</i>—Budget Bill through.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h4>Q. E. D.</h4> + +<p class="center">(<i>By a Grumpy Old Bachelor.</i>)</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>"'Tis a mad world, my masters!" Grim <span class="sc">Lombroso</span></p> +<p class="i2">Corroborates mild <span class="sc">Shakspeare</span> in this matter.</p> +<p>And, though <i>his</i> demonstration seems but so-and-so,</p> +<p class="i2">No doubt the world's as mad as any hatter,</p> +<p>The sweeter sex especially! 'Tis sad,</p> +<p class="i2">But that rule's absolute, depend upon it!</p> +<p>'Tis obvious all women <i>must</i> be mad,</p> +<p class="i2">Because—there is a "b" in <i>every</i> bonnet!</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr /> + +<h4>WILDER IDEAS;</h4> + +<p class="center"><i>Or, Conversation as she is spoken at the Haymarket.</i></p> + +<blockquote><p><i>The Disciple.</i> Ah, that supper after the +Theatre! It was the unspeakable following +the unplayable. I feel so seedy!</p> + +<p><i>The Master.</i> Nay, but have I not told you +that the two letters to follow "X. S." are +"S. and B.?" And you have yourself said +that "Soda and Brandy is the last refuge of +the—digestion."</p> + +<p><i>The Disciple.</i> Hang it! I can survive +everything—except the cast-off clothes of my +own epigrams,—or, by the bye, death.</p> + +<p style="float: right;">[<i>Exit from this life, to prove it.</i></p></blockquote> +<br /><br clear="all" /> +<hr /> + +<h3>Mem. on the Behring-Sea Business.</h3> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>A Forty-hours' speech by magniloquent <span class="sc">Carter!</span></p> +<p>That Behring Tribunal has caught a Tartar!</p> +<p>Whatever the upshot one cannot but feel</p> +<p>'Tis a fine illustration of "Say and Seal!"</p> +<p>Though <i>Bunsby</i> might say of this lengthy oration,</p> +<p>"The <i>Behring</i> will lie in the application."</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p><span class="sc">Appropriate Song</span> (<i>for anybody connected +with the Tourist-Managing firm of Gaze, on +hearing a Lady say that she was "going to +try a Cook."</i>)</p></blockquote> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>"Ah me! she has gone from our Gaze,</p> +<p class="i2">That beautiful girl from our door!"</p> + </div> </div> + +<p class="center">(<i>The remainder can be added ad libitum, +and sung whenever opportunity permits.</i>)</p> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p><span class="sc">"A Move on the Board" in the Right +Direction.</span>—Our Surprising School-Board +has voted in favour of allowing its Industrial +School youths to enjoy "reasonable +recreation" on Sundays. Its version of Sir +<span class="sc">William Jones's</span> distich would be something +as follows:—</p></blockquote> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>The morn at Church, the afternoon at play,</p> +<p>Will serve to while the Day of Rest away.</p> + </div> </div> + +<blockquote><p>Apparently it looks favourably on a modicum +of Sunday Cricket or Football, and does +not taboo even the enormity of Lawn-tennis. +As against that eminently strict Sabbatarian, +Mrs. <span class="sc">Grundy</span>, the tennis-player may +defend himself by a reference to the "services" +in which he is engaged.</p></blockquote> + +<hr /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width:400px;"><a href="images/221.png"><img src="images/221-400.png" width="400" height="448" alt="OBVIOUS." /></a> +<h3>OBVIOUS.</h3> + +<p><span class="sc">"Want Anything on it, Sir?"</span></p> + +<p><span>"Yes—confound you! More Hair!"</span></p></div> + +<hr /> + +<h3>A SWINBURNE!</h3> + +<p class="center">(<i>See "Nineteenth Century."</i>)</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p class="i12">I.</p> + </div> </div> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Three times one are always three;</p> +<p>Waves are stormy on the sea;</p> +<p>Bonnets oft contain a bee;</p> +<p class="i4">Bear delights in bun.</p> +<p>The <span class="sc">Algernon</span>, that ever</p> +<p>Is linked to <span class="sc">Charles</span>, shall never</p> +<p>From poet <span class="sc">Swinburne</span> sever,</p> +<p class="i4">The three appear as one.</p> + </div> </div> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p class="i12">II.</p> + </div> </div> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Once he lashed and slashed the Priest,</p> +<p>Chopped him up to make a feast,</p> +<p>Called him brute and called him beast,</p> +<p class="i4">Black as crows are black.</p> +<p>But now he rhymes "together"</p> +<p>(See <span class="sc">Calverly</span>) with "weather":</p> +<p>He might have thrown in "heather,"</p> +<p class="i4">A rhyme that men call "hack."</p> + </div> </div> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p class="i12">III.</p> + </div> </div> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Clash the cymbal, beat the gong;</p> +<p>Sense is weak, but sound is strong;</p> +<p>Such is <span class="sc">Swinburne's</span> latest song,</p> +<p class="i4">Made by him alone.</p> +<p>See <span class="sc">Watts</span> and <span class="sc">Knowles</span> around us,—</p> +<p><span class="sc">James Knowles</span> with cheques hath bound us</p> +<p>To write; the Muse hath found us</p> +<p class="i4">With Putney Hill as throne.</p> + </div> </div> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p class="i12">IV.</p> + </div> </div> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>When the wind's Nor-West by West,</p> +<p>Man and beast are rarely blessed.</p> +<p>Sometimes I like mutton best,</p> +<p class="i4">Often I like veal.</p> +<p>A poet (<i>not</i> a puny 'un)</p> +<p>Who raves about the Union,</p> +<p>And hymns the States Communion,</p> +<p class="i4">Takes none the less his meal.</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr /> + +<h4>In the City. Thursday Last.</h4> + +<blockquote><p><i>First Member of Stock Exchange</i> (<i>Unionist</i>). +I say, <span class="sc">Jones</span>, you weren't in it! Why didn't +you join us marching in procession, with +<span class="sc">Clarke</span> carrying the Union Jack, eh?</p> + +<p><i>Second Member of the House.</i> Why didn't +I join you? Because I didn't want to make +a Union-Jack-ass of myself!</p> + +<p style="float: right">[<i>Exit, before the retort is possible.</i></p></blockquote> +<br /><br clear="all" /> +<hr /> + +<h4>A Pair of Spectacles.</h4> + +<p class="center">(<i>After hearing a much interrupted Speech in +the Commons.</i>)</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>When a batsman has to go</p> +<p>To the tent with a "round O,"</p> +<p class="i2">He knows <i>he's</i> not made a hit.</p> +<p>When a Statesman's hitting well,</p> +<p>The round "Oh's" around him swell</p> +<p class="i2">(Dullards' substitutes for wit).</p> +<p>In debate or cricket score,</p> +<p>The "round O" means <i>nought</i>—no more!</p> + </div> </div> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page222" id="page222"></a>[pg 222]</span> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:600px;"><a href="images/222.png"><img src="images/222-600.png" width="600" height="381" alt="THINGS ONE WOULD RATHER HAVE EXPRESSED DIFFERENTLY." /></a> +<h3>THINGS ONE WOULD RATHER HAVE EXPRESSED DIFFERENTLY.</h3> + +<p><i>Fair Hostess.</i> "<span class="sc">Good-night, Major Jones. We're supposed to Breakfast +at Nine; but we're not very Punctual People. +Indeed, the later you appear To-morrow Morning, the better pleased we shall all +be</span>!"</p></div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>May 10, 1893.</h2> + +<p class="center"><span class="sc">Mr. Punch's Vision at the Opening of the +Imperial Institute</span>.</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p><i>This Spring's soft beauty is a joy for ever;</i></p> +<p><i>Its loveliness increases; it will never</i></p> +<p><i>Pass to forgetfulness; we still must keep</i></p> +<p><i>Fond memories of this Maytime, calm as sleep</i></p> +<p><i>Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.</i></p> +<p><i>Therefore, on this May morning are we wreathing</i></p> +<p><i>A flowery band, to bind us round the earth,</i></p> +<p><i>Spite of despondence, of the inhuman dearth</i></p> +<p><i>Of patriot natures, Mammen-ridden days,</i></p> +<p><i>And Toil's unhealthy and o'erdarkened ways</i></p> +<p><i>Made for our mending: yes, in spite of all</i></p> +<p><i>This Mayday Vision moves away the pall</i></p> +<p><i>From our dark spirits!</i></p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i20"><span class="sc">Keats</span> <i>adapted to the occasion.</i></p> + </div> </div> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Thy pardon, <i>Adonais</i>, pray,</p> +<p class="i2">That on this memorable morning</p> +<p>We twist those lovely lines astray,</p> +<p class="i2">As modish maid, her charms adorning</p> +<p>A trail may twine of eglantine</p> +<p class="i2">Into the formal "set" of Fashion.</p> +<p>Yet wouldst thou gladly lend thy line</p> +<p class="i2">To present need; for patriot passion,</p> +<p>Love of the little sea-girt land,</p> +<p class="i2">Has ever fired our English singers.</p> +<p>Of England's fame, from strand to strand,</p> +<p class="i2">Their songs have been the widest wingers.</p> +<p>So, <i>Adonais</i>, this great day</p> +<p>Were "Welcome as the flowers in May!"</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>The "flowery band" of <span class="sc">Keats's</span> song</p> +<p class="i2">Our Empire's sons to-day are wreathing;</p> +<p>Long may it bind, and blossom long.</p> +<p class="i2">The May-flower's fragrance round us breathing</p> +<p>Is nothing sweeter than the thought</p> +<p class="i2">To patriot hearts of loyal union.</p> +<p>Together we have toiled and fought,</p> +<p class="i2">But gay to-day is our communion.</p> +<p><span class="sc">Britannia's</span> helm is crowned with flowers,</p> +<p class="i2"><span class="sc">Britannia's</span> trident's wreathed with posies,</p> +<p>And Fancy sees in Flora's showers</p> +<p class="i2">Thistles and Shamrocks blent with Roses.</p> +<p>The Indian Lotus let us twine</p> +<p class="i2">With gorgeous bloom from Afric's jungles</p> +<p>Canadian Birch with Austral Pine.</p> +<p class="i2">Tape-bound Officialdom oft bungles;</p> +<p>Some blow too hot, some breathe too cold,</p> +<p class="i2">O'er-chill are some, and some o'er-gushing;</p> +<p>But the same blood-stream, warm and bold,</p> +<p class="i2">Through all our veins is ever rushing;</p> +<p>And so to all true hearts to-day</p> +<p>Comes "Welcome as the flowers in May!"</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>A <span class="sc">Queen</span> is with us, to evince</p> +<p class="i2">Imperial sympathy unfailing;</p> +<p>And pleasant to our genial <span class="sc">Prince</span></p> +<p class="i2">This proof that all seems now plainsailing;</p> +<p>With his great purpose. Some sneered, "Whim!"</p> +<p class="i2">But general shouts now drown their sneering.</p> +<p>A special salvo's due to <i>him</i></p> +<p class="i2">Amidst to-day's exuberant cheering.</p> +<p>Hail the Imperial Institute!</p> +<p class="i2">And hail the patient Prince promoter!</p> +<p>The man who's neither cynic brute,</p> +<p class="i2">Nor phrase-led sycophantic doter,</p> +<p>May echo that. Our patriot tap</p> +<p class="i2">Is old, well-kept and genuine stingo;</p> +<p>Not the chill quidnunc's cold cat-lap,</p> +<p class="i2">Nor crude fire-water of the Jingo,</p> +<p>But sound as good old English ale,</p> +<p class="i2">Full-bodied, fragrant, mild, and mellow.</p> +<p>To try that tap <i>Punch</i> will not fail,</p> +<p class="i2">Nor any other right good fellow.</p> +<p>A bumper of that draught to-day</p> +<p>Is "Welcome as the flowers in May!"</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Weave on! And may that "flowery band"</p> +<p class="i2">Be surer bond than forged steel fetters.</p> +<p>Ho! Hands all round! Whilst hand-in-hand</p> +<p class="i2">We need not fear the fierce sword-whetters</p> +<p>Who'd make the pleasant earth a camp,</p> +<p class="i2">And stain blood-red the white May-flowers.</p> +<p>May echoes of no mailèd tramp</p> +<p class="i2">Disturb ye in your Spring-deck'd bowers,</p> +<p>Glad garland-weavers! Heaven bestow</p> +<p class="i2">"Sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing,"</p> +<p>One thing above all others know,</p> +<p class="i2">Ye who the earth-round band are wreathing,</p> +<p>To-day, to-morrow, <i>any</i> day,</p> +<p>You're "Welcome as the flowers in May!"</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p><span class="sc">"Playing the Duse."—Mr. Horace +Sedger</span> announces the engagement at the +Lyric of Mlle. <span class="sc">Duse</span>. The Manager must +be prosperous; at all events, <i>he</i> is not going +to the Duse, but the Duse is coming to him. +And as to the Theatre—well, if it isn't a +success, the Duse is in it!</p></blockquote> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p>"<span class="sc">She answered 'Yuss'!</span>"—The most +recent and most important change of name is +from "I MAY" to "I WILL."</p></blockquote> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page223" id="page223"></a>[pg 223]</span> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:500px;"><a href="images/223.png"><img src="images/223-380.png" width="380" height="487" alt="MAY 10, 1893." /></a> + +<h3>MAY 10, 1893.</h3> + +<p>"THEREFORE ON THIS BRIGHT MAY DAY ARE WE WREATHING +A FLOWERY BAND TO BIND US ROUND THE EARTH."—<span class="sc">Keats</span>, <i>slightly +altered.</i></p></div> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page224" id="page224"></a>[pg 224]</span> +<br /><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page225" id="page225"></a>[pg 225]</span> + +<hr /> + +<h3>THANK YOU!</h3> + +<p class="center">(<i>For a Photograph, inscribed "With Ethel Travers's kind regards."</i>)</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width:300px;"><a href="images/225.png"><img src="images/225-250.png" width="250" height="332" alt="With Ethel Travers's kind regards." /></a></div> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>It was only a week in the brightest of summers,</p> +<p class="i2">We played tennis and golf, and, when ended the day,</p> +<p>We made furious love as two amateur mummers,</p> +<p class="i2">Whilst Act IV. saw us One in the orthodox way.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>So my holiday ended. I begged a reminder,</p> +<p class="i2">I asked you to send me a portrait that should</p> +<p>Be a sweet recollection, and you, who were kinder</p> +<p class="i2">Than I ever deserved or dared hope, said you would.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Then we parted. Life seemed to be painfully lonely,</p> +<p class="i2">Though I dreamt of a future with you by my side,</p> +<p>Till my common-sense seemed to say, "<i>You</i>, who are only,</p> +<p class="i2">Just a poor needy teacher, have <i>Her</i> for a bride!"</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>It was true, and I knew it. Yet why had I met you?</p> +<p class="i2">Why had Fate kept such bitter-sweet fortune in store?</p> +<p>So determined I set myself then to forget you,</p> +<p class="i2">And to let my thoughts dwell on yourself nevermore.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>First your hair with its gold, next your eyes with their laughter,</p> +<p class="i2">I forgot in a thoroughly workman-like style.</p> +<p>Persevering, I never desisted till after</p> +<p class="i2">Many months I but faintly remembered your smile.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>I completely forgot you (I thought) and the warning</p> +<p class="i2">Was to save me, I chortled, a future of pain,</p> +<p>But you undid it all with your picture this morning,</p> +<p class="i2">And the same old, old trouble starts over again.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>The Fates are a trifle hard, putting it mildly,</p> +<p class="i2">For they well might have spared me this finishing touch</p> +<p>Of your portrait, which speaking quite calmly yet Wildely,</p> +<p class="i2">I admire all the more since I hate it so much.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>I shall treasure it, though. Thanks—a thousand—to you, dear.</p> +<p class="i2">When in sweet meditation your fancy runs free,</p> +<p>Is it asking too much that a stray thought or two, dear,</p> +<p class="i2">From your kindness of heart may come straying to me?</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr /> + +<h3>POLITICS AND POLITENESS.</h3> + +<p><span class="sc">Dear Mr. Punch</span>,—I see that the Duke of <span class="sc">Argyll</span>, when he +received the freedom of the Burgh of Paisley, the other day, told the +following interesting story:—</p> + +<blockquote><p> +"I was going once to call on a lady in London, and when the door was +opened and the servant announced my name, I saw the lady advancing to the +door with a look of absolute consternation on her face. I could not conceive +what had happened, and thought I had entered her room at some inconvenient +moment, but, on looking over her shoulder, I perceived Mr. and +Mrs. <span class="sc">Gladstone</span> sitting at the tea-table, and she evidently thought that +there would be some great explosion when we met. She was greatly +gratified when nothing of the kind occurred, and we enjoyed a cup of tea as +greatly as we had ever done in our lives." +</p></blockquote> + +<p>Now, my dear <i>Mr. Punch</i>, I have great sympathy with "the +Lady," and think (with her) the meeting, as described by his Grace +of <span class="sc">Argyll</span>, was mild in the extreme. If something out of the +common had taken place, it would have been far more satisfactory. +To make my meaning plainer, I give roughly (in dramatic form) +what should have happened to have made the action worthy of the +occasion.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Scene</span>—<i>A Drawing-room. Lady entertaining</i> Mr. <i>and</i> Mrs. G. +<i>at tea. A loud knock heard without.</i></p> + +<p><i>Mrs. G.</i> (<i>greatly agitated</i>). Oh dear, I am sure it is he!</p> + +<p><i>Mr. G.</i> (<i>with calm dignity</i>). Do not fear—if he appears, I shall +know how to deal with him.</p> + +<p><i>Lady</i> (<i>pale but calm</i>). Nay, my good, kind friends, believe me, you +shall not suffer from the indiscretion of the servant.</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. G.</i> (<i>pushing her husband into a cupboard</i>). Nay, +<span class="sc">William</span>, +for my sake! And now to conceal myself, so that he may not +suspect his presence by my proximity. [<i>Hides behind the curtains.</i></p> + +<p><i>The Duke of Argyll</i> (<i>breaking open the door, and entering +hurriedly</i>). And now, Madam, where is my hated foe? I have +tracked him to this house. It is useless to attempt to conceal him.</p> + +<p><i>The Lady</i> (<i>laughing uneasily</i>). Nay, your Grace, you are too +facetious! Trace the <span class="sc">Premier</span> here! Next you will be saying that +he and his good lady were taking tea with me.</p> + +<p><i>The Duke</i> (<i>suspiciously</i>). And, no doubt, so they were! This +empty cup, that half-devoured muffin—to whom do they belong?</p> + +<p><i>The Lady</i> (<i>with forced gaiety</i>). Might I not have entertained Mr. +and Mrs. <span class="sc">Joseph Chamberlain</span>, my Lord Duke?</p> + +<p><i>The Duke</i> (<i>aside</i>). Can I believe her? (<i>Aloud.</i>) But if it is +as you +say, I will send away my clansmen who throng the street without. +(<i>Opens window and calls.</i>) <i>Gang a waddy Caller Herring!</i> They +will now depart. (<i>A sneeze heard off.</i>) What was that?</p> + +<p><i>The Lady</i> (<i>terrified</i>). I fancy it was the wind—the cold wind—and +now, believe me, Mr. <span class="sc">Gladstone</span> will abandon Home Rule.</p> + +<p><i>Mr. G.</i> (<i>suddenly appearing</i>). Never! I tell you to your face +that you are a traitor! [<i>Sneezes, and hurriedly closes the window.</i></p> + +<p><i>The Duke</i> (<i>savagely</i>). That sneeze shall be your last!<span style="float: right">[<i>Takes up a knife lying on the table.</i></span></p> + +<p style="margin-top: 2.5em;"><i>Mr. G.</i> (<i>repeating the action</i>). I am ready, Sir!</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. G.</i> (<i>rushing between them</i>). Oh, <span class="sc">William</span>! Do not +fight!</p> + +<p><i>The Lady</i> (<i>falling on her knees</i>). I prithee stay!</p> + +<p><i>Mr. G.</i> Never! May the better man win!</p> + +<p><i>The Duke.</i> So be it!<span style="float: right">[<i>The Scene closes in upon a desperate duel. Curtain.</i></span></p> + + +<p style="margin-top: 3em;"><i>There, Mr. Punch!</i> What do you think of that? Still, perhaps, +under the circumstances of the case, it is better as it is.</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p class="i8">Yours most truly,</p> +</div> <div class="stanza"> +<p class="i16"><span class="sc">One who never Paid Twopence for Manners</span>.</p> + </div> </div> + + +<hr /> + +<h3>THE LITIGANT'S VADE MECUM.</h3> + +<p><i>Question.</i> Can you tell me the best possible regulations in the +universe?</p> + +<p><i>Answer.</i> Certainly English Common Law.</p> + +<p><i>Q.</i> Is English Common Law accessible to everyone?</p> + +<p><i>A.</i> Certainly, and if a litigant please, he or she (for sex makes no +difference) can become his or her own advocate.</p> + +<p><i>Q.</i> When a litigant prefers to conduct a case in person, does the +proceeding invariably save expense?</p> + +<p><i>A.</i> Not invariably, because a litigant may have odd views about +the importance of evidence and the time of professional advisers.</p> + +<p><i>Q.</i> When a litigant is afflicted with this lack of knowledge what +is the customary result?</p> + +<p><i>A.</i> That the defendants have to undergo the expense of a several-days' +trial with counsel to match.</p> + +<p><i>Q.</i> Supposing that a journalist, sharply but justly, criticises the +actions of a man of straw—what can the man of straw do?</p> + +<p><i>A.</i> With the aid of some speculative Solicitor, he can commence an +action for libel.</p> + +<p><i>Q.</i> What benefit does the speculative Solicitor obtain?</p> + +<p><i>A.</i> The speculative Solicitor, if he can persuade a judge and jury +to agree, will get his costs, and if the journalist wins he will find that +the prosecutor or plaintiff is, indeed, a man of straw.</p> + +<p><i>Q.</i> Is there any redress?</p> + +<p><i>A.</i> None; but a wise journalist will never criticise sharply.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page226" id="page226"></a>[pg 226]</span> + +<hr /> + +<h3>THE PICK OF THE R.A. PICTURES. No. 2.</h3> + +<p>No. 139. <i>Ça donne à penser.</i> Not a more suggestive pose does +any portrait possess throughout the Galleries. It is described <i>tout +court</i> as "<span class="sc">Albert Brassey</span>, Esq.," and 'tis the work (and the +pleasure) of <span class="sc">W. W. Ouless</span>, R.A. "'Tis a fine work!" says <span class="sc">Bob</span> +to <span class="sc">'Arry</span>. "O' course," returns <span class="sc">'Arry Joker</span>. "Great! <i>'Ow +less</i> could be expected of 'im tho', I dun no." It represents an undecided +moment in Mr. <span class="sc">Albert Brassey's</span> life. It is as if he were Mr. "<i>All +but</i>" <span class="sc">Brassey</span>, and wasn't quite certain of what he should do next. +There is the writing-desk,—shall he indite a letter? If he does so, +shall he take off his thick-fur coat? Or shall he go hunting, since +he has on, underneath the furrin' fur, the pink of hunting perfection? +Likewise he has his whip and his horn, also his boots! He's +"got 'em on!" He's "got 'em <i>all</i> on!" Or shall he hail the +5,000-ton yacht that's lying in the roads just a few yards from his +open window, and go out for a cruise? He looks happy, but +puzzled.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><a href="images/226a.png"><img src="images/226a-600.png" width="600" height="293" alt="No. 543. _The_ Picture of the Year. Lamp-light reading...." /></a> +<p class="center">No. 543. <i>The</i> Picture of the Year. Lamp-light reading; or, +Mr. Punch among the Pretty Pets. "<i>Dulce est dissipere in joco</i>." H. H. La +Thangue.</p></div> + +<p>No. 167. <i>The Right Hon. H. H. Fowler, M.P.</i> "Presentation +Portrait," painted by <span class="sc">Arthur S. Cope</span>. "When the Right Hon. +Gentleman rose to speak, the House, with the exception of a clerk at +the table and two small boys (whose presence within the precincts +has never been satisfactorily accounted for) was empty."—<i>Extract +from The Imaginary Times Parliamentary Report of that date.</i></p> + +<p>No. 350. <i>Mrs. Keeley at the age of Eighty-six.</i> Looking so well +and sprightly, that the Artist must have been at considerable pains +to induce her to sit still just one moment for +her portrait. Long may she remain with us! +Our compliments to the Artist, <span class="sc">Julia B. +Folkard.</span></p> + +<p>No. 434. Mr. <span class="sc">Somerscales</span> has given us the +best sea-piece of the year. It shows a "<i>Corvette +shortening sail to pick up a shipwrecked crew</i>." +"A sale in sight appeared!"—and as the +picture, so it is said, was immediately sold, so +also were those who came too late to make a +bid.</p> + +<p>No. 524. <i>Gentleman writing.</i> "A nice quiet +corner for a little composition away from all +those speaking likenesses." <span class="sc">J. W. Forster.</span></p> + +<p>No. 533. This is a sad-looking little girl, +painted by <span class="sc">William Carter</span>. She has an +unsettled expression. Is she suffering from +what the Clown calls "teezy-weezies-in-the-pandenoodles," +and, as Sir <span class="sc">John Millais's</span> +"<i>Bubbles</i>" served <span class="sc">P**rs</span> for an advertisement, +is it beyond the range of probability +that this, being associated with the name of +"<span class="sc">Carter</span>," should be intended as a pictorial +advertisement for the well-known "L-ttle +L-v-r P-lls"?</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width:300px;"><a href="images/226b.png"><img src="images/226b-250.png" width="250" height="324" alt="An Artist's work 'on the Line.'" /></a> +<h4>An Artist's work "on the Line."</h4></div> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page227" id="page227"></a>[pg 227]</span> + +<p>No. 535. Portrait (presumably) of <i>C. R. +Fletcher Lutwidge, Esq.</i> By <span class="sc">St. George +Hare</span>. Ha! Ha! Ha! By St. George you Ha're bound to laugh +directly you look at it. You can't help it. "C. R. F. L." is +chuckling to himself and saying, "Ha! Ha! I've just thought +of <i>such</i> a funny thing! Ha! Ha! Ha!" And he <i>is</i> enjoying it +so! As the song says, "O Mister (I forget the name), what a funny +little man you are!"</p> + +<p>No. 553. This, by Mr. <span class="sc">Markham Skipworth</span>, is a portrait of +<i>Dr. E. Ker Gray, LL.D</i> of St. George's Chapel, Mayfair. "<span class="sc">Ker +Gray</span>!" it ought to be "Ker Scarlet."</p> + +<p>No. 862. <i>Portrait of a Gentleman</i>, by <span class="sc">Phil R. Morris</span>, A. The +Portrait, annoyed at being next to <span class="sc">Sidney Cooper's</span>, R A., "<i>Be it +ever so humble, &c.</i>," representing head of a jackass, and some +sheepish sheep, is evidently saying to itself, "Hang the Hanging +Committee! They show me as next door to a donkey."</p> + +<p>No. 888. <i>The Wedding Gifts.</i> The pretty Bride is a bit +frightened at seeing the Groom leading up two bare-back'd steeds. +"Oh!" she cries, "I can't ride <i>them</i>! Why (<i>to her husband</i>) did +you give me these?" "My dear," says he, "why not? Here +are the bare-backed steeds, and you've already got the Ring." +<span class="sc">S. E. Waller</span>.</p> + +<p>No. 892. "<i>Your Health!</i>" A Birthday Party at Mr. <span class="sc">Ernest +Hart's</span>. Painted by <span class="sc">S. J. Solomon</span>. As a subject, the wisdom of +<span class="sc">Solomon</span> is questionable as a specimen of Hacademie Hart—ahem! +However, to the toast of "<i>Your Health</i>!" as addressed to +Mr. <span class="sc">Ernest Hart</span>, Master <span class="sc">Sol</span> might have +added the words, "<i>Most Ernestly and +Hartily</i>."</p> + +<p>No. 928. <i>Exhibition of Miss Biffin</i>, "who +has no legs to speak of." "If you saw my +ancles," said <i>Miss Mowcher</i>, "I should go +home and kill myself." But <span class="sc">Arthur Hacker</span>, +whose capital work it is, calls it "<i>Circe</i>."</p> + +<p>No. 937. "<i>It might have been</i>," by F. +<span class="sc">Stuart Sindici</span>, represents <span class="sc">Napoleon</span> and +<span class="sc">Wellington</span> out walking together, in 1847, +near the Horse Guards. "It might have +been" <i>if</i> .... But it wasn't—though F. +<span class="sc">Stuart Sindici</span> went nap on it, and dreamt +it. Why shouldn't <span class="sc">Julius Cæsar</span> and Lord +<span class="sc">Brougham</span> have hobnobbed together over +Pommery '74 at <span class="sc">Frascati's</span> in Regent Street, +or why shouldn't the Great Duke of <span class="sc">Marlborough</span> +and Admiral <span class="sc">Hamilcar</span> of Carthage, +after leaving <i>Hoi Adelphoi</i> at the theatre, +have taken supper at <span class="sc">Rule's</span> in Maiden Lane? +Why not? "It might have been"—of +course; why, when you come to think of it, +there's hardly anything that mightn't have +been, <i>if</i> it had only taken place. Such possible +subjects would fill the most vast picture gallery +in the <i>Château d'If</i>.</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h3>PICK OF THE PICTURES.</h3> + +<p class="center">(<i>New Gallery, Regent Street. Summary of Sixth Summer Exhibition.</i>)</p> + +<table width="600px" summary="R.A. Pictures" align="center" border="0"> +<tr> +<td class="pics" valign="top"> +<a href="images/227a.png"><img src="images/227a-292.png" width="292" height="210" alt="No. 40. The Bather Bothered. Appropriately painted by Mr.Waterhouse" border="0" /></a> +No. 40. The Bather Bothered. Appropriately painted by Mr. Waterhouse, +R.A. "Why," exclaims the horrified nymph, "he's lying on my clothes!" +</td> +<td class="picsr" valign="top"> +<a href="images/227b.png"><img src="images/227b-210.png" width="300" height="210" alt="No. 216. Night-Mares. Neptune's Horses, but more suggestive of Night Mares. Walter Crane." border="0" /></a> +No. 216. Night-Mares. Neptune's Horses, but more suggestive of +Night Mares. Walter Crane. +</td> +</tr> +</table> + +<table width="600px" summary="R.A. Pictures" align="center" border="0"> +<tr> +<td class="pics" valign="top"> + +<a href="images/227c.png"><img src="images/227c-160.png" width="160" height="277" alt="No. 22. 'Mr. G.' in Churchwarden" border="0" /></a> +No. 22. "Mr. G." in Churchwarden +Church. "Here endeth the Second +Reading." Sydney P. Hall. + +</td> +<td class="pics" valign="top"> + +<a href="images/227d.png"><img src="images/227d-272.png" width="272" height="277" alt="No. 195. Hurried Moments! An Elopement!!" border="0" /></a> +No. 195. Hurried Moments! An Elopement!! "Never mind your +things!" he shouted, at the same time that, catching her up and +holding her in his strong right arm, he started off at a fast run. +"Better to lose your clothes than miss your train!" C. W. Mitchell. + +</td> +<td class="picsr" valign="top"> + +<a href="images/227e.png"><img src="images/227e-156.png" width="156" height="277" alt="No. 27. Posed and Painful! Standing" border="0" /></a> +No. 27. Posed and Painful! Standing +for her photograph, and feels +that the head-rest is no rest for the +head. J. J. Shannon. +</td> +</tr> +</table> + +<table width="600px" summary="R.A. Pictures" align="center" border="0"> +<tr> +<td class="pics" valign="top"> + +<a href="images/227f.png"><img src="images/227f-205.png" width="205" height="210" alt="No. 96. The Haunted Glen; or, The Bird-nesting Trespasser..." border="0" /></a> +No. 96. The Haunted Glen; or, The Bird-nesting +Trespasser Conscience-struck. "Oh! I'll pretend +I don't see them!" Hon. John Collier. + +</td> +<td class="picsr" valign="top"> + +<a href="images/227g.png"><img src="images/227g-388.png" width="388" height="210" alt="No. 92. 'Fling' Defiance!' Professor Herkomer's Heel-and-toe lads..." border="0" /></a> +No. 92. "'Fling' Defiance!" Professor Herkomer's Heel-and-toe +lads, "Jock and Charlie," +back themselves against (No. 108) Mr. Alfred Hartley's "Harry and Neil,'" sons +of Lord Rosebery, +attired as they are for a reel or a fling, or any form of National Sc(h)ottische +dance. +</td> +</tr> +</table> + +<br /><hr /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page228" id="page228"></a>[pg 228]</span> + +<h3>PICK OF THE PICTURES.</h3> + +<p class="center">(<i>New Gallery—continued.</i>)</p> + +<p>No. 11. "<i>Her First Ball</i>;" +or, "<i>Train 'em up in the way +she should bowl</i>." Portrait of +little girl preparing to be a +Lady-Cricketer. She has the +ball in her hands, and is only +waiting to cry out "Play!" +<span class="sc">G. P. Jacomb-Hood.</span></p> + + +<p>No. 15. <i>Charming Picture +of Nobody Nowhere</i>, Miss +<span class="sc">Anna Alma-Tadema</span>.</p> + +<p>No. 20. <i>Portrait of W. Matthew +Hale, Esq.</i> By <span class="sc">John +Parker</span>. "All Hale!"</p> + +<p>No. 37. "<i>Silver Mist.</i>" This +ought to have been the picture +of a gentleman in search of a +threepenny piece; but it isn't. +<span class="sc">Fred Hall</span>.</p> + +<p>No. 66. <i>The Departing Guest.</i> +<span class="sc">E. Burne-Jones</span>.</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>The ending of the party see,</p> +<p>"O let us get a cab for thee!"</p> +<p>"Nay," quoth the guest, "I've wings! so I,</p> +<p>Like to the trout, will take a fly."</p> + </div> </div> + +<p>No. 112. <i>Alderman J. Stone-Wigg.</i> +First Mayor of Tunbridge +Wells.</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Indeed you look an Alderman,</p> +<p>'Tis true I've seen a balder man.</p> +<p>"<span class="sc">J. Stone-Wigg</span>" is the name I see,</p> +<p>Which "Lost or Stolen-Wig" should be.</p> + </div> </div> + +<p>No. 160. <i>Portrait of Lady +Simpson. Bravo</i>, Mr. <span class="sc">Val +Prinsep</span>, A.R.A. Uncommonly +good. A parody of the old song +should have been selected by the +Artist as a motto for the picture:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Lady <span class="sc">Simpson</span> has a dog—</p> +<p class="i2">I don't know its name—</p> +<p>Pretty tail has dog, <i>incog.</i></p> +<p class="i2">Ribands round the same.</p> + </div> </div> + +<p>No. 170. "<i>The Spirit of +Life.</i>" By <span class="sc">Archie Macgregor</span>. +"Eh, <span class="sc">Archie</span> mon! aiblins, 'tis +just the whusky-still the Leddie's +at, takin' a wee drappit i' +the 'ee. And why did ye nae +ca' it, 'Still Life'"?</p> + +<p>No. 177. <i>Portrait of Mrs. +George Lewis.</i> Excellent, Mr. +Colour-<span class="sc">Sargent</span>! N.B.—Very +few "Sergeants" left; but Mr. +<span class="sc">George Lewis</span> has secured the +best of them to paint this portrait.</p> + +<p>No. 194. Very charming is +"<i>The Closing of an October +Day.</i>" By <span class="sc">George H. Broughton</span>, +A.R.A. He has caught the +"Early Closing Movement" to +the life.</p> + +<p>No. 242. "<i>In the Grip of +the Sea-Wolf</i>"; or, "<i>Early +Bathing at Boulogne</i>." E. M. +<span class="sc">Hale</span>.</p> + +<p>No. 324. And a good Judge too! +<i>Portrait of Sir Douglas Straight.</i> +The <span class="sc">Douglas</span>, "bearded in his +den"! Quarter (Sessions) +Length. Sad end to a distinguished +career to be "quartered, +drawn, and hung"! Congratulate +Artist, Miss <span class="sc">Vera Christie</span>, +on good likeness.</p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width:500px;"><a href="images/228.png"><img src="images/228-360.png" width="360" height="456" alt="EVOLUTION EXTRAORDINARY." /></a> +<h3>EVOLUTION EXTRAORDINARY.</h3> + +<p><i>British Tourist</i> (<i>who has been served with a Pig's foot</i>). +"<span class="sc">What's this?<br /> +I ordered Quail</span>!"</p> + +<p><i>Negro Waiter.</i> "<span class="sc">Wall—y'ev got Quail</span>!"</p> + +<p><i>British Tourist</i>. "<span class="sc">Quail! Why a Quail's a Bird</span>!"</p> + +<p><i>Negro Waiter.</i> "<span class="sc">Not Here</span>!"</p></div> + +<hr /> + +<p class="center">Anti-Epidemic Treatment.</p> + +<p class="center">(<i>Being Summary of Robson Roosetem +Pasha's Article in New +Review.</i>)</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">Boil Bacillus,</p> +<p class="i2">Or he'll kill us.</p> +<p>From Filter filthy grown</p> +<p class="i2">Don't drink water,</p> +<p class="i2">Save rates per quarter,</p> +<p>And so "Leave <i>well</i> alone."</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p><span class="sc">Companion Works.</span>—Shortly +to appear: <i>My Wife's Bodice</i>. +By the Author of <i>His Wife's +Soul</i>.</p></blockquote> + +<hr /> + +<h3>TO MY UMBRELLA.</h3> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Good, faithful friend, it seems an age</p> +<p class="i2">Since last we met and walked together!</p> +<p>Upon the <i>Daily Graphic's</i> page</p> +<p class="i2">For weeks I've watched the coming weather;</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>The meteorologic girl,</p> +<p class="i2">Despite cold arms, seemed almost jolly,</p> +<p>And made no effort to unfurl</p> +<p class="i2">That wonderful archaic brolly.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>So I, grown reckless, did as she.</p> +<p class="i2">And gave you quite a Long Vacation;</p> +<p>Such weather cannot always be,</p> +<p class="i2">Or you would lose your occupation.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Think how I've treated you! A pet</p> +<p class="i2">Might envy all the care I gave you;</p> +<p>When worn-out with work and wet,</p> +<p class="i2">Think how I did my best to save you!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>You soon looked well, and eased my fears—</p> +<p class="i2">Recovered after over-pressure.</p> +<p>When you "took silk" in other years,</p> +<p class="i2">Think what I paid for each "refresher"!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>When last it rained I had to roll</p> +<p class="i2">You up quite wet; you've been forgotten.</p> +<p>It rains once more. What's this? A hole?</p> +<p class="i2">By Jove, the silk's completely rotten!</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p><span class="sc">The Stage-Coach Fiasco</span>.—The Meet, +which was ordered for 11:30 last Thursday, +wasn't done, and so there was no Lunch.</p></blockquote> + +<hr /> + +<h3>ON THE INCOME-TAX.</h3> + +<blockquote><p class="center">[By an already over-burdened tax-payer who +derived neither enlightenment nor comfort from +the wordy war about a "Graduated Income-Tax" +between Mr. <span class="sc">Bartley</span> and Sir <span class="sc">William Harcourt</span>.]</p></blockquote> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>"Graduation" seems vexation,</p> +<p>"Differentiation" looks as bad.</p> +<p class="i8">Their the-o-rie</p> +<p class="i8">It puzzles me.</p> +<p>But their <i>practice</i> drives me mad!</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr /> + +<p>"<span class="sc">That's Swear It Is!</span>"—In bygone +days, when the Princess's was under the +management of Mr. and Mrs. <span class="sc">Charles Kean</span>, +there was a fine imposed on any member of +the company who should make use of bad +language in the Green-Room. One evening +a distinguished actor so far forgot himself as +to let slip an expletive of three simple letters, +whereat Mrs. <span class="sc">Kean</span> held up her hands +in horror and quitted the room, followed by +the actresses who happened to be present. +Subsequently some wag at the Garrick Club +wrote a song whereof the burden was "The +Man who said 'dam' in the Green-Room." +<i>Tempora mutantur</i>, and now, at the Avenue +Theatre, under the management of Mr. and +Mrs. <span class="sc">Kendal</span> in the Green-Room and behind +the scenes, as well as on the stage, "<span class="sc">Dam</span>" +will be in everyone's mouth, as this happens +to be the name of the Author of their latest +successful production.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h3>THE NEWEST TALE OF A TUB.</h3> + +<p class="center">(<i>By a Sufferer from the Modern Laundry System.</i>)</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Rub-a-rub-rub!</p> +<p class="i6">Three ghouls at a tub:</p> +<p>Our shirts and our collars they savagely scrub.</p> +<p class="i6">The fronts they make baggéd,</p> +<p class="i6">The wristbands quite jaggéd,</p> +<p>And send home our linen all rotten and ragged!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Scrub-a-scrub-scrub!</p> +<p class="i6">Three fiends at a tub:</p> +<p>In chemical bleachings they dabble and grub.</p> +<p class="i6">Our shirts each bespatters</p> +<p class="i6">Then brush them to tatters.</p> +<p>The wearers get mad as March hares or as hatters!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">Rub-a-scrub-scrub!</p> +<p class="i6">Three hags at a tub:</p> +<p>They scrape with a wire-brush, and pound with a club!</p> +<p class="i6">Smash buttons, burst stitches,</p> +<p class="i6">And—swell Laundry riches!</p> +<p><i>Who'll save us from this cauldron-tub's dread Three Witches?</i></p> + </div> </div> + +<hr /> + +<blockquote><p>The Stock Exchange, <i>Mr. Punch</i> understands, +has gone into politics. With a view +to test the knowledge of the brokers who +"proceshed" to the Guildhall, he asks them,—What +is the Commission upon Evicted +Tenants? All sellers, no buyers.</p></blockquote> + +<hr class="full" /> + + +<table summary="note" align="center" style="margin-top: 3em;"> +<tr><td class="note"> + +<p>Transcriber's Note:</p> + +<p>Sundry broken punctuation has been corrected.</p> + +</td></tr></table> + + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="pg" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI, VOL. 104, MAY 13, 1893***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 26708-h.txt or 26708-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/6/7/0/26708">http://www.gutenberg.org/2/6/7/0/26708</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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