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The Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 104,
May 20, 1893, by Various

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Title: Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 104, May 20, 1893

Author: Various

Editor: Francis Burnand

Release Date: October 4, 2008 [EBook #26769]

Language: English

Character set encoding: ASCII

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI

VOLUME 104, MAY 20TH 1893

edited by Sir Francis Burnand




OPENING OF THE IMPERIAL INSTITUTE.

Another Show! A splendid Imperial Show! Magnificent weather! Real
QUEEN'S weather, and consequently a big success. The grandeur, the
solidarity of the British Empire--[&c., &c. *.* _Editor regrets
that for lack of space he is compelled to omit the remainder of this
remarkably fine panegyric. He suggests to Author that it would come
out well in pamphlet form, price one shilling, or it might be given
away with a pound of Indian tea._--ED.] Obedient to the call of duty I
was myself present as one of the 'umblest of the distinguished guests
assembled to welcome Her Imperial MAJESTY on this auspicious occasion.
It was my good fortune to be immediately in front of a charming Young
Lady and her delightful Grandmother. The latter was a trifle deaf, and
her Granddaughter being a wonderfully well-informed young lady, I had
quite an enjoyable time of it; as had also my neighbours, though I
regret to say that some of them after the first three-quarters of an
hour seemed rather to resent the gratuitous information given with
astonishing volubility by the amiable Young Lady to her confiding
relative. For example, up came his Grace the Archbishop of CANTERBURY.
"That's the LORD CHANCELLOR," our well-informed Young Lady told her
Grandmother. Much cheering greets Lord SALISBURY. "That's General
ROBERTS," said the Young Lady, adding, as if rather doubting her own
accuracy, "though why he wears a naval uniform I am unable to say."
It didn't matter; her Grandmother was equally pleased. "Which is Mr.
GLADSTONE?" asked the Old Lady. The Young Lady used her opera-glass.
"I don't see him," she returned slowly. "Of course he can't be in
a turban. I know he has no whiskers or moustache--ah! there he
is!--there, talking to Sir EDWARD LEIGHTON!" She hadn't got even the
Christian names correct. I looked in the direction she had indicated
and saw Sir WILLIAM HARCOURT in close proximity to Sir RICHARD TEMPLE.
But why should I turn and dispel the harmless illusion? Was it for me
to bring discord into a family, and cause the Granddaughter to be cut
out of the Grandmother's will? Never! So, "from information received,"
the Old Lady went on implicitly believing in her informant,
and treasuring up the particulars for the benefit of her other
Grandchildren. "Lord ROBERTS is somewhere here," observed the Young
Lady, sweeping the horizon (so to speak, with apologies to "the
horizon") with her _lorgnette_. "Oh, I should like to see _him_!"
exclaimed the Old Lady, enthusiastically. "Where is he?" "Oh,
I think--" replied the Granddaughter, hesitatingly, "I rather--think
--I've only seen him once--but--oh yes," she added, with wonderful
confidence on finding she was commanding an interested audience of
simple neighbours--"Oh yes--there--in a General's uniform,--he has
just come in--and he is looking for his place,"--and, following
guidance, I, too, craned forward, and was rewarded by catching a
glimpse of Mr. FREDERICK GORDON, Chairman of the Grand Hotels Co.,
Limited, who was good enough to salute me with that air of conscious
power which becomes part and parcel of a man who has the command of
countless battalions in waiting. Encouraged by this incident (for I
had not rounded on her and said, "that is _not_ Lord ROBERTS") the
Young Lady urged on her mistaken career more wildly than ever. She
pointed out the wrong Princess MAY, the Duke of FIFE became H.R.H.
the Duke of YORK, the TECKS were the MECKLENBURG-STRELITZES, the
Gentlemen-at-Arms were dismounted Chelsea Pensioners in Court dress;
the Chinese ladies were Japanese (for they couldn't get even these
correct,--and of course these Orientals are most correct), and
finally, looking up to the gallery where the Orchestra was, she
crowned the edifice by loudly announcing that Sir ARTHUR SULLIVAN was
Sir ARTHUR BALFOUR, and added that he was only performing his official
duty as Leader of the House of Commons. "Then," asked the simple Old
Lady, "are the musicians all obliged to be Members of Parliament?" Her
Granddaughter was equal to the occasion, and answered unhesitatingly,
"Yes, dear, _all_."

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: "A Legal Conveyance."]

       *       *       *       *       *

After this, what was the show! Everybody was somebody else. Only the
QUEEN and the PRINCE were beyond the power of error. She found them
out at once. She was enthusiastic about the distinctness of the
PRINCE's voice in reading the Address, and she bent forward so as
not to lose a syllable of the QUEEN's gracious reply. She explained
everything wrong. A few ladies looked at her, mutely beseeching some
respite for their ears; would she only give herself ten minutes' rest?
No--it was a great chance for the well-informed young woman, and she
made the most of it. Even the heat didn't affect her. Processions
might come, and processions might go, but like the babbling brook,
she could and would "go on for ever." I have forgotten to add that
she also knew how everyone arrived, and her Grandmother was much
interested at hearing how Her Majesty's Judges all came in an omnibus,
driven and conducted by eminent judicial functionaries.

A grand show, "Abely worked by our Secretary," says Sir
Early-Springs-and-SOMERS VINE, C.M.G., Assistant Secretary, and to
both of them great praise is due. Now, then, to adapt the title of
Lord LYTTON's novel, "_What will we do with it?_"

THE MAN WHO WENT.

       *       *       *       *       *

OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.

In the _Song of the Sword and Other Verses_, Mr. HENLEY incidentally
asks, "What have I done for you, England, my England?" Since the
question is put so pointedly, my Baronite, who has been looking
through the little volume of verse, is bound to reply that, what Mr.
HENLEY has done for England is to make it as ridiculous as is possible
to a man with a limited audience. Mr. HENLEY has a pretty gift
of versification, but it is spoiled by a wearisome proneness to
smartness, and an assumption of personal superiority that occasionally
reaches the heights of the ludicrous. If 'ARRY had been at the
University, and had bent what he calls his mind upon verse-making,
some of the truculent rhyme in this book is the sort of stuff he would
have turned out. It seems at first hearing a far cry from 'ARRY to
HENLEY. But the dispassionate reader, turning over these sulphurous
leaves, will perceive deeply-rooted similarity in that narrowness of
view, and that undisturbed consciousness that it alone is right, which
distinguish the reflections, and are found in the observations, of
'ARRY when he views society from his lower standpoint.

[Illustration: "Le Sabre de mon pere!"]

Messrs. HUTCHINSON & Co. have published a _Book of Wise Sayings_, by
W. A. CLOUSTON. Not that W. A. CLOUSTON said them all, or any of
them, but he selected them. One fault has the Baron to find with the
selecting collector, and that is that his references are incomplete.
He affixes the name of the author to every wise saying, but as he
does not give chapter and verse, it is impossible for the ordinary
unlearned reader to ascertain when and where the wise saying was
uttered. Perhaps this omission is wise on the part of Mr. CLOUSTON.
However, here is a happy example for the time present:--

            "Safe in thy breast close lock up thy intents,
            For he that knows thy purpose best prevents."--_Randolph._

Isn't that good? Isn't it "RANDOLPH" to the life? Is anyone quite
certain as to the course our RANDOLPH will take?

There are, too, quotations from "R. CHAMBERLAIN"--not from
JOSEPH--with whose works the Baron is not so conversant as he might
be. Saith R. CHAMBERLAIN:--

    "A foolish man in wealth and authority is like a weak-timbered
    house with a too-ponderous roof."--_R. Chamberlain._

The Baron strongly recommends the study of this volume to Mr. OSCAR
WILDE; it will save him hours of painful cogitation during the
incubation of his next play.

THE BARON DE B.-W. & CO.

       *       *       *       *       *

ANOTHER HOME-RULE QUESTION.--Ulster objects. Ulster threatens. If Home
Rule becomes the law of the land, the Ulstermen will resist _vi et
armis_. Do they propose to set up an Opposition Sovereignty? If so,
they have a monarch at hand with the very title to suit them. He is
to be found at the Heralds' College, and he is the, _par excellence_,
"Ulster King-at-Arms!"

       *       *       *       *       *

STAGE WHISPER AT WESTMINSTER.--The Comedy of Committee now tends
towards becoming Mellor-drama.

       *       *       *       *       *

"NANA WOULD NOT GIVE ME A BOW-WOW!"

A PRETTY LITTLE SONG FOR PETTISH LITTLE EMPERORS. (_Latest Teutonic
Version of Mr. Joseph Tabrar's Popular Song._)

REICHSTAG

[Illustration]

    [The German Emperor is reported to have said, "It was
    impossible for me to anticipate the rejection of the Army
    Bills, so fully did I rely upon the patriotism of the Imperial
    Diet to accept them unreservedly. A patriotic minority
    has been unable to prevail against the majority.... I was
    compelled to resort to a dissolution, and I look forward to
    the acceptance of the Bills by the new Reichstag. Should this
    expectation be again disappointed, I am determined to use
    every means in my power to achieve my purpose."--_The Times._]


_Wilful Wilhelm sings_:--

You ask me why I do not smile; the reason you shall know;
  I had a disappointment huge a day or two ago;
  I asked my venerable Nurse to give me no more toys,
  But just a little Dog of War to bite the other boys.
                  _Spoken._ But oh!
      _Audience_ (_of Generals and Staff Officers_). What?
  Nana wouldn't give me that bow-wow
          Wow-wow!
  The Reichstag wouldn't grant me that bow-wow!
          Wow-wow!
  No; she denied me--flat.
  Now, what do you think of _that_?
  And I'd set my mind on that bow-wow-wow!
          Wow-wow-wow!

  Some years ago she did the same, the greedy bad old girl!
  But I've set my mind upon that dog, sharp teeth and coat a-curl.
  The other boys have got such tykes, and I should be a mug,
  If when they run to mastiffs I'm put off with a small pug.
                  _Audience._ Well?
                  _Spoken._  Well,
  I mean to make her give me that bow-wow!
          Wow-wow!
  I'll worry her until she buys that bow-wow!
          Wow-wow!
    I'll dissolve the Imperial Diet,
    And I never _will_ be quiet
    Until I get that bow-wow-wow!
          Wow-wow-wow!

  I always meant when I grew old to do just as I pleased,
  I'd have a dozen bow-wows then, and if the old Trot teased
  I'd shut her up, and everyone who backed her, like a shot;
  For no one who opposes Me _can_ be a pat-ri-ot!
                    _Audience_. Why?
                    _Spoken_. Because
  France has got ahead with _her_ bow-wow!
          Wow-wow!
  Russia makes me jealous with _her_ bow-wow!
          Wow-wow!
    And now it is _my_ turn
    To leave them well astern,
    And I _can't_ without that bow-wow-wow!
          Wow-wow-wow!

  I didn't shake old BIZZY off to take CAPRIVI up,
  To let my old Nurse thwart me in my longing for this pup.
  'Tis true that I have other tykes, a pack of 'em indeed--
  But what of that? I want one more, of this particular breed.
                   _Audience._ Well?
                   _Spoken._ Well,
  I will, whatever happens, have this bow-wow!
          Wow-wow!
  I'll have it very soon, if not just now-now!
          Wow-wow!
    My purpose I'll achieve,
    And the Reichstag never leave
  Until I get possession of that bow-wow-wow!
          Wow-wow-wow!

       *       *       *       *       *

A QUESTION OF TITLE.--A recent speech by Mr. LOCKWOOD, Q.C., M.P.,
on the Art of Cross-Examination has been called "deliciously frank."
Henceforth, the genial Recorder of York is to be known as Mr.
DELICIOUSLY FRANK LOCKWOOD.

       *       *       *       *       *

  A SOVEREIGN MAXIM.

          He who risks the answer Nay,
          When he asks he shall have MAY.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: WHEN A MAN DOES NOT LOOK HIS BEST.

WHEN PERCHED ON THE BACK SEAT OF A FRIEND'S DOG-CART; CAN TAKE NO PART
IN THE CONVERSATION, AND HAS TO DEVOTE HIMSELF TO STICKING ON!]

       *       *       *       *       *

IN SHEFFIELD PARK.

MONDAY, MAY 5, 1893.

_First Match of the Australian Cricketers against Lord Sheffield's
English Eleven._

  In Sheffield Park, in budding May!
  True English scene, true cricket day,
  A generous host, and glorious play!
          A date to mark!
  A well-fought match, the Cornstalks' first!
  A summer sun, a noble thirst!
  The Season's on us with a burst,
          In Sheffield Park!

  The wondrous veteran W. G.,
  At forty-five scores sixty-three!
  (At sixty-three GRACE may we see
          Score forty-five!)
  Pleasant once more to have a peep
  At those sharp eyes that never sleep,
  Those bear's-paws that know how to keep
          The game alive!

  Safe SHREWSBURY and giant GUNN
  At it once more! Oh Lords, what fun
  To see them drive, and cut, and run!
          A May-day lark
  For elderly and paunchy lads!
  Ah, Time his annual inches adds.
  _We_ cannot buckle on the pads
          In Sheffield Park!

  Yet genuine pleasure still 'twill yield
  To sit and watch, with noses peeled,
  CONINGHAM smite and GREGORY field.
          How's that, Sir! Hark!
  Thanks to GRACE, SHREWSBURY, and GUNN,
  LOCKWOOD and BRIGGS--what glorious fun!--
  The first big match we've neatly won
          In Sheffield Park!

  Now for a wet after our roast!
  Lords no, there is no call to boast!
  But in Lord SHEFFIELD _what_ a host
          Cricketers mark!
  Who will forget that lovely day,
  'Midst lovely scenery in mid-May,
  Who had the luck to watch the play
          In Sheffield Park!

       *       *       *       *       *

(EXETER) HALL RIGHT.--It is reported on the highest authority that
Prince GEORGE has been recently engaged in May Meetings, and has
expressed himself as having been extremely charmed and interested.

       *       *       *       *       *

MORE POWER TO MISS COBBE!

  "You say that you've a sovereign way
    To end the placard pest;
  Oh, Mistress COBBE, reveal it, pray,
    And give my spirit rest!"

  "You're very green, that may be seen,"
    Th' aggressive dame did shout;
  "The way to kill a noxious Bill
    Is--just to throw it out.

  "Mid hills, in towns,--that's not so bad,--
    And in the quiet lane,
  We let the advertising cad
    Tyrannically reign.

  "So in my walks I take a brush,
    Also a watering-can,
  And on the hideous foe I rush,
    And that's _my_ little plan!

  "Without compunction, without haste,
    Though passers-by may stare,
  I strip the paper from its paste,
    And leave the fragments there."

  "_That_ plan," I said, "I've never tried;
    It shows, no doubt, devotion;
  But is it legal?" She replied,
    "_I've not the slightest notion!_"

       *       *       *       *       *

WAITING FOR THE PROCESSIONS.

(_A Reminiscence of the Opening of the Imperial Institute._)

    SCENE--_The Hyde Park South Road, opposite the Cavalry Barracks.
    Closely-packed ranks of Sightseers have formed in front of the
    long line of unharnessed carriages under the trees. Outside
    this line the feebler folk, who invariably come on such
    occasions, and never find the courage to trust themselves in
    the crowd, are wistfully wandering, in the hope of procuring a
    place by some miraculous interposition._

_Lament of Feeble Females._ I _told_ you how it would be--not the
_slightest_ use staying here!... _I_ can't see anything except a
lamp-post and the top of a soldier's bearskin!... We might _just_ as
well have stopped at home! (_Viciously._) Where all the people _come_
from, _I_ don't know! I'm sure we were here early _enough_!

_Comments by Feeble Males._ No--not much to be seen where we are,
certainly, but--um--I don't know that we're likely to do better
anywhere else.... Not the least good attempting to get in _there_.
Well, we can _try_ lower down, of course, but it'll be just the same.
They ought to arrange these things better!

    [_They drift on discontentedly._

_The Self-Helper_ (_squeezing between the wheels, and elbowing himself
past the people who have been standing patiently there for hours_).
By your leave--'ere, just allow me to pass, please. Thenk you. One
moment, Mum. "No right to push in 'ere," 'aven't I? I've as much right
as what _you_ 'ave. Think the ole Park b'longs to _you_, I suppose?
You orter 'ave a space roped in a-purpose for you, _you_ ought! Tork
about selfishness!

    [_He arrives triumphantly in the foremost row, and obtains the
    tolerance, if not the sympathy, of all who are not near enough
    to be inconvenienced by his presence._

    _Contented People in the Crowd._ Oh, we shall do well enough 'ere.
They'll put their sunshades down when the QUEEN passes ... I can ketch
a view between the 'eads like. And you don't get the sun under the
trees ... Sha'n't have much longer to wait _now_. She'll be starting
in another arf hour--(&c., &c.)

_A Lady in a Landau_ (_to her husband_). I don't think we _could_ have
done better, Horace--we shall see everything; and it's quite amusing
to be close to the crowd, and hear their remarks--_much_ nicer than
being in one of the Stands!

    [_Her self-congratulations are cut short by the arrival of
    three Humorous Artisans, who have taken a day off, and are in
    the highest animal spirits._

_Joe_ (_first Humorous Artisan_). You shove in first, BILL--push
along, JOE; there's room for three little 'uns! Don't you mind about
_me_--I'll git up 'ere, and see over your 'eds. [_He mounts on one of
the front wheels of the landau, and holds on by the lamp._) I can see
proper where _I_ am. There's a lady fainted down there!

_Bill_ (_the leading Buffoon of the Party_). I wonder if she's got any
money. If she 'as, I'll go and 'elp 'er!

_Joe._ She's all right now. The ambulance 'as come up--they're
standin' 'er on 'er 'ed!

_The Lady in the Landau_ (_in an undertone_). HORACE, we can't have
this horrible man here--do make him get down!

_Horace_ (_to Joe_). Here, I say, my friend, don't you think you'd be
more comfortable somewhere else?--that wheel is--er--not exactly the
place----

_Joe._ No offence, Guv'nor. Yer see, I ain't brought out _my_ brawm
to-day, 'cos I'm 'avin' it varnished, and----

_Bill._ Why, don't yer _see_, JOE?--the lady's put 'er 'usband up to
invitin' you on the box-seat of 'er kerridge!--it all comes o' bein so
good lookin'--but take care what yer about, or your missus may come by
and ketch yer--which'll be unpleasant for all parties!

_Joe_ (_to the owner of the Landau, with easy affability_). It's very
'orspitable of you and your good lady, Mister, but I'm very well where
I am--if I _should_ want to set down later on, I'll tell yer. (_To_
BILL.) I can't think what they all _see_ in me. _I_ don't encourage
'em!

_The Lady_ (_in a rapid whisper_). No, HORACE, for goodness sake
_don't_--you'll only make them worse--we must put up with it. (_They
do._)

_Bill_ (_affecting to recognise an imaginary friend across the road_).
'Ullo, if there ain't little ALEXANDER! I knoo _'e'd_ be 'ere. What
cher, ALEC, ole pal?

_Joe_ (_playing up to him_). Ah, and there goes JACK GAYNER! You can
spot 'im anywhere by 'is eye-glass.

_Bill._ That's ole JACK all over, that is. 'E wouldn't come out--not
on a day like this--without a _eyeglass_, JACK wouldn't. If it 'ad ha'
bin a Saturday now, 'e'd ha' 'ad _two_, to see 'is way 'ome by. (_A
gorgeous official passes on horseback._) There y'ar--there's DAN LENO.
Way oh, DANNY!

_Dick._ It's time 'Er Most Gracious come along, if she's goin' to
keep 'er character. If she don't make 'aste, I shan't 'ave time to get
'alf a pint afore I go 'ome!

_Bill_ (_sentimentally_). Ah, if she on'y knoo the anxious arts she's
causin'! 'Ullo, see that bloke tryin' to climb up on the wall there?
If I was one o' them sojers, I'd draw my sword and do a noble deed
against _'im_, I would. He wouldn't want to set down on no wall arter
_I'd_ done with him!

    [_By this time the two have secured a delighted audience--of which
    they are fully conscious._

_Joe._ Time 's very near up. 'ER MAJESTY ain't 'urryin 'erself.

_Bill_ (_magnanimously_). Never mind. Now I _am_ 'ere, I'll stop _'Er_
time. I shouldn't like 'Er to feel that there was somethink wantin' to
the success of the perceedins. They say Royalty never forgets a face!

_Joe_ (_with the candour of intimacy_). She won't see enough o' yours
to _forgit_, ole feller--you ain't used _much_ o' Pears' Soap this
mornin', you ain't!

_Bill_ (_in nowise pained by this personality--which is only too well
founded_). Ah, it 'ud take "Monkey Brand" and Fuller's Earth to git
it all orf o' _me_! (_There is a stir in the crowd; a Mounted
Police-sergeant trots past_). There's somethink up _now_. They're
comin'. I _will_ 'oller when the QUEEN passes. She's costed me a deal
already, but she ain't got _all_ the money. I got three 'apence of it
in my pocket--though, come to think of it, three 'apence laid out in
pots o' four ale among three with thusts for thirty and loyalty laid
on 'ot _and_ cold all over the premises--why, it don't go so bloomin'
fur, and don't you forgit it!

_Dick._ 'Ere come the Life Guards! smart lookin' lot o' chaps, ain't
they?

_Bill_ (_philosophically_). Ah, and when they done their time, them
fellers 'll be glad to turn to plarsterin' or wood-choppin'--anythink
to gain their liveli'ood by. There's the Royalties. I can see the
people wavin' their 'ankerchiefs--them that's got em. _I_ want to wave
somethink--'ere, lend me your bacco-pipe, will yer.

    [_An open carriaqe passes, containing personages in uniform._

_Dick._ 'Oo'll _that_ lot be?

_Bill._ Why, that's the Markiss o' BRICKDUST--don't yer know _'im_?
And the one in front is the Dook o' DRIPPIN'. Look at 'im a larfin.
Ain't 'e a gay ole chicking? 'Ere's some more o' them.

_The Crowd._ That is the Dook o' CAMBRIDGE. No, it ain't--that was 'im
in the fust kerridge. Go on--that was the EDINGBOROS!... Why, I
tell yer, I see 'is white whiskers! There's the Princess MAY! Which?
'Ooray! Lor, it's no good 'oorayin' _now_--she's gone by long ago.
Well, I _am_ glad I 've seen 'er, any'ow! Who are them in the white
'elmets? Ostralians, I fancy. No, they ain't--they're Canadians.
Then who is it in the fancy dress, with slouch 'ats an' feathers on?
Forriners o' _some_ sort. Ain't them Indians dressed up fine? Here
come the creams. _Now_ we shall see 'Er!

_Bill_ (_with enthusiasm_). Brayvo! SANGER'S ain't in it! 'Ooray,
'ooray! Lor, I could do with a ap'ny ice! Did yer see 'Er, Joe? I
caught 'Er Royal eye, I did. She didn't bow--'cos we ain't on those
terms--but she tipped me a wink, ser much as to say, "'Ullo, BILL, ole
feller, 'ow is it you ain't in the Institoot?" _Quite_ forgittin' she
never sent me no ticket. But there, I dessay she's _lots_ to think
about!

_Joe_ (_to the occupants of the Landau_). You'll excuse me leavin' yer
for a bit, just to git a drink, won't yer? I'll be back in time to see
'em return--if yer won't mind keepin' my place.

    [_Exit, leaving them glaring in speechless indignation._

_The Crowd_ (_breaking up_). Oh, I see it beautiful! She _did_ look
pleased, didn't she? I didn't notice partickler. I was lookin' at the
Percession.... Come along, that's all there is to be seen.... Where's
that silly ole man got to? I told 'im to be 'ere under this tree;
he wants more lookin' after than any--oh, _'ere_ you are! Well, you
should ha' kept along with us, and you'd ha' seen well enough! It
_was_ a pity our leavin' the whisky at 'ome--'tain't _often_ I come
out without it--and on a warm day like this, a drop 'ud ha' done us
_all_ good!

_A Loyal Old Lady._ Ah, depend upon it, this Imperial Institoot 'ull
do good to Trade. Why, there's one o' them men with the iced lemonade
cans sold out a'ready!

       *       *       *       *       *

HOW'S THAT FOR--HIGH-TEA?

    [A learned Judge is recently reported to have anxiously
    inquired the meaning of "high-tea."]

  His Lordship looked puzzled. He ransacked his brain;
  His once beaming brow was contracted with pain.
  Till my Lord stopped the Counsel, in saying, "Let's see,
  Before you proceed, what is meant by 'high-tea'?

  "I was called to the Bar such a long time ago!
  But I flatter myself that I've learnt now to know
  All the ropes pretty well, yet completely at sea
  I confess that I am with this curious 'high-tea.'

  "Now I own that I know an Oxonian 'wine,'
  Though a 'cocoa' at Newnham is more in my line,
  Whilst dinner and lunch are familiar to me.
  So is supper. But what--tell me, _what_ is 'high-tea'?"

  The Counsel explained in his very best style,
  (Though he often indulged, on the sly, in a smile,)
  And the Judge was as eager as eager could be
  To learn all the rites that belong to "high-tea."

  But the sequel to all was a square little note
  Next day from a blue-blooded Duchess who wrote
  To the Judge, and this Dame of the highest degree
  Had invited his Lordship to come to--HIGH-TEA!

       *       *       *       *       *

DIARY OF A "H. D."

(_At the Service of the Departmental Committee on the Treatment of
Inebriates._)

_Monday._--I am afraid that I can no longer resist the temptation to
return to my customary diet. This morning my breakfast was spoiled by
finding that the _piece de resistance_ was corked. And this when I
pay 96_s._ a dozen, and the vintage is 1884! However, it could not
be helped, and I managed to exist until lunch. Then came another
disappointment. I had purposely ordered a light repast, as I had not
much appetite. But I did intend to take it with soda-water--not
neat. At dinner I managed to get through a biscuit, and as it was
"devilled," it gave me renewed relish for the morning's champagne.
This time the bottles were in excellent condition, and I quite forgot
that earlier in the day one of them had been corked. All in the
half-dozen were in perfect condition--especially the last magnum. I do
not know how I got to bed.

_Tuesday._--When I find that I have not removed my boots overnight, I
know that I require a pick-me-up. A friend joined me at breakfast, and
we both thought the champagne excellent. My friend BROWN, or perhaps
it was JONES, and now I come to think of it, it may have been
ROBINSON. And yet, when I consider the matter, there may have been
three of them. I tried to count them, and it took me half the morning.
Well, BROWN, or whoever he was, is a very good fellow. Most amusing,
and an excellent audience. He laughs at everything. Whether you
mean it to be funny or not, he laughs. I like him as a brother. A
thoroughly good fellow. We had a most interesting discussion about the
right pronunciation of Constitution. He said it was in two syllables.
I said it was in one. I think I was right. We had a long chat about it
after dinner. First we talked about it over the port, and then under
the table. I don't know how I managed to get home, but I have a firm
belief that it was all right--quite all right.

_Wednesday._--Found my boots again on my feet when recovering
consciousness. So this is the second time I must have slept in them.
I feel excessively melancholy. I have wept very much, and were it
not for the supporting-powers of whiskey, I am sure I should he much
worse. However, there is only one thing to be done--to keep at it. One
bottle down, another come on. I have floored no end of a lot of
them. Strange to say that I am now happy after all my sorrow of this
morning. Everything is right but the lamp-posts. They are all wrong.
Getting in my way on my road home. I feel awfully tired. However,
seems to be my duty to interfere in a street-row.

_Thursday._--It appears I had an altercation with the police last
night. I am free, but sorrowful. I really must put myself
under restraint. I feel almost certain that I have given way to
intemperance. On appealing to BROWN (or whoever he is), he says I have
been as drunk as a fly for ages. This hurts me very much. Only thing
to do is to retire into a retreat. Have, with the assistance of BROWN
(or whoever he is), drawn up the application. It looks right enough.
And, as this is my last chance for some time to come, I and BROWN (or
whoever he is) are going to make a night of it.

_Friday._--Boots again! BROWN (or whoever he is) called with two
doctors. I said I couldn't be bothered with them. BROWN (or whoever he
is) said I must. So I saw them. They say that the Act requires that I
must understand what I am doing. All right--going into retreat. Word
"retreat" should be pronounced as one syllable. All right, they have
made the statutory declaration.

_Saturday._--Here I am. Charming place, away from drink, and ought to
do well for the next fortnight. Can't remember how long I promised to
stay, but know it was for some considerable time. I have just seen
the Superintendent. He says he is very sorry, but I cannot stay
any longer. This, in spite of it appearing that I have signed an
application undertaking to remain for life. Can't make it out. Rather
vague about what I have been doing during the week, but know I wanted
to cure myself from habitual inebriety. Superintendent says he must
turn me out under the statute. Appears that I signed the application
for admission when I was not absolutely sober. Can't be helped. Out I
go. Well, there are worse things in the world than whiskey and port. I
have a notion that I am booked for another night in my boots!

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: NOTE AND QUERY.

_Small Boy_ (_to Companion_). "I SAY, BILL, WHICH O' THESE TWO'S TAKEN
THE PRIZE?"]

       *       *       *       *       *

THE RECENTLY-ELECTED R.A.'S.

  The pictures these talented gentlemen show
    Monotonous never appear;
  Waves, woods, and (say) Wenice, MACWHIRTER & Co.
    Depict for us year after year.

  WOODS always paints Venice, the place that brought forth
    A Moor, but MOORE'S chattels and goods
  Are seas, not calm south ones, but those of the north,
    Whilst NORTH and MACWHIRTER paint woods.

       *       *       *       *       *

A DEBT OF HONOUR.--Will the verse described as _Ode_ by Mr. WILLIAM
MORRIS be paid with the Poet Laureateship?

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: WHAT WEDDING PRESENTS ARE COMING TO.

_She._ "I DON'T SEE _MY_ CHEQUE ANYWHERE!"

_He._ "A--CAN I HELP YOU? WHAT NAME?"

_She._ "OH--WELL--MINE IS HARDLY A CHEQUE. A--IT'S A POSTAL ORDER, YOU
KNOW, FOR FIFTEEN SHILLINGS!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

OUR OWN AMBASSADOR.

_Mr. Punch, meeting Columbia at the World's Fair, thus greeteth
her:--_

  COLUMBIA by Lake Michigan
    A treasure-dome did late decree;
  And all the world, in summer, ran,
  In numbers measureless by man,
    The Wondrous Show to see!
  There many miles of fertile ground
  With walls and towers were girdled round:
  And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills
    Surrounding halls of vast machinery.
  And all earth's products, from fine arts to pills,
    Massed in that maze by that great inland sea.

  Fast, from that deep romantic chasm which slanted
  Through Colorado, the Grand Canon; over
  Yellowstone's marvel--teeming miles enchanted;
  Far-sweeping prairies erst by redskins haunted;
  Steaming and railing, like bee-swarms to clover,
  The world-crowd swept, with ceaseless turmoil seething;
  It seemed the earth in eager pants was breathing
  In a great race to see who should be first
  Into that many-acred Show to burst,
  And conquering COLUMBIA there to hail
  Creation-licker on colossal scale.
  By Michigan's large lake, once and for ever,
  Surpassing other Shows, in park, by river,
  O'er miles meandering, this last Yankee Notion
  Through wood and meadow like a river ran,
  Vast Exposition of the Arts of Man!
  Hyde Park compared therewith stirred small emotion,
  And proud COLUMBIA, waving Stripes and Stars,
  Cried, "The White City whips the Champ de Mars!"

    The shadow of that dome of treasure
    Floated midway on the wave.
    (See CASTAIGNE'S drawings--they're a pleasure--
    In the May _Century_ pictured brave.)
  It was a miracle of rare device,
  Costing "a pile," but cheap at any price!
    A damsel with a five-stringed "Jo"
    In a vision once I saw;
    It was an Alabama maid,
    And on her banjo light she played,
    Singing of sweet Su-san-nah!
    Could I revive within me
    Amphion's lyric song,
    To such a deep delight 'twould win me
  As the music loud and long
  That sure did raise this dome in air,
  That mighty dome!--those halls of price!
  COLUMBIA'S magic set them there,
  And all who see cry, "Rare! O rare!
  This beats great KUBLA KHAN'S device!
  Chicago outsoars Xanadu!
  COLUMBIA'S World's Fair here on view
        Eclipses SHEDAD'S Paradise!"

  There, Madam! _The_ British Ambassador, _Punch_,
    Has borrowed the lyre of the Opium-eater
  To praise your unparalleled feat! By his hunch
    'Twould tax that great master of magic and metre
  To do it full justice. To paint such a vision
    The limner need call on the aid of the Poppy.
  It is a Big Blend of the Truly Elysian,
    And (you'll comprehend!) the Colossally Shoppy!
  Mix HAROUN ALRASCHID with Mr. MCKINLEY,
    And Yellowstone Park with a Persian Bazaar,
  And _then_ the _ensemble_ is sketched in but thinly.
    For brush and for pen 'tis too mighty by far.
  The fragment of COLERIDGE hinted at wonders
    His Dream might have shown, had it ever been finished.
  COLUMBIA, I bear o'er the ocean that sunders
    But cannot un-kin us, the love undiminished
  Of all whom I speak for--that's England all over--
    Here's luck, in a bumper, to you and your Show!
  Ambassador _Punch_, your Admirer and Lover,
    Believes the World's Fair will turn out a Great Go!

       *       *       *       *       *

MUSIC IN MAY.--Albert Hall gave a good Concert last Wednesday night.
C. V. STANFORD'S "_East to West_," libretto by Poet SWINBURNE, is
cleverish. To encores Sir JOSEPH BARNBY says, as a rule, "Not for
Sir JOSEPH." Quite right. Miss PALLISER, known as Miss BUCKINGHAM
PALLISER, because she sang at a Court Concert, charming; and Mr. E. J.
LLOYD as _The Old Obadiah_, excellent. Chorus, like the weather, very
fine; Orchestra set fair, or fair set. Hall full, but, now and again,
it's a Hall-full place for sound.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: OUR OWN AMBASSADOR.

MR. PUNCH (_to_ COLUMBIA), "CONGRATULATE YOU, MY DEAR!--QUITE 'THE
BIGGEST SHOW ON EARTH'!!!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

ANILINE.

(_After Tennyson's "Adeline."_)

  All around one daily sees
    Dreadful dyes of Aniline.
    Worn by women fat and thin,
  Bonnet, bodice, back and breast.
    One can hardly call thee fair,
    With thy fierce magenta glare,
  With thy green, the green of peas,
  Violet, and all the rest.
    What appalling tints are thine,
    Showy, glowy Aniline!

  Whence did modern women get
    Such a gorgeous array?
  Dear to 'ARRY'S 'ARRIET
    On a 'appy 'oliday,
  'Owlin', out on 'Ampstead 'Eath,
  From the 'ill to 'im beneath.
    Also dear to girls who sell
      Flowers in the London street,
    They have always loved thee well
      In their frocks and feathers neat.
    Why revive those tints of thine,
    Antiquated Aniline?

  Thou hast almost made us blind
    Under England's cloudless skies;
      Low-toned tints of Orient,
        Such as Turkish rugs adorn,
    Would be better for our eyes--
      Now upon the pavement bent
        Since such blazers have been worn.
  Say, has Paris sent to us
  Dyes so dreadfully defined?
      Do the tyrant _modistes_ bring
    Colours so calamitous,
    Mixed in ways more fearful still,
      In this strangely sunny spring?
    Oh, before thou mak'st us ill,
      Take away that glare of thine,
      Unaesthetic Aniline!

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: KINDLY MEANT.

_Mr. Macmonnies_ (_an old Friend_). "WELL, LOOK HERE, OLD MAN, I'LL
TELL YOU WHAT REALLY BROUGHT ME HERE TO-DAY. THE FACT IS MY WIFE WANTS
HER MOTHER PAINTED VERY BADLY--AND I NATURALLY THOUGHT OF YOU!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

SALE OF THE CLIFDEN AND HIGH PRICE PICTURES.

--"The Wife of Burgomaster Six" went for over L7000. This wife of
Burgomaster Half-a-dozen was a marvellous specimen of a woman. The
Burgomaster was so faithful a husband that "Six to One" has long since
become a homely proverb.

       *       *       *       *       *

A USEFUL TOOLE.--_Mr. Punch_ was much surprised one day last week to
see on the evening newspaper placards:--

  TOOLE IN THE BOX.
    A LUCKY DOG.

Was "the Box" a new piece to be put on at the distant period when
_Walker, London_, fails to attract? No! The hero of _Homburg_ had only
been helping in the _Lucky Dog_ Fight--merely a case of _Verbum Sapte
et Alport_, or a Word for SAPTE and ALPORT.

       *       *       *       *       *

THE SHORTEST PASSAGE ON RECORD.--Aberdeen to Canada at a pen-stroke.

       *       *       *       *       *

SIC ITUR AD--ASTOR!

[The American Millionnaire has purchased Cliveden.]

  RULE, BRITANNIA! 'Twas Cliveden's fair walls which first heard
  That stout patriot strain--which may now sound absurd
  "_Yankee Doodle_" indeed might more fittingly ring
  "In Cliveden's proud alcove," which POPE stooped to sing.
  O Picknickers muse; and, O oarsmen, repine!
  Those fair hanging woods, BULL, no longer are thine.
  Our high-mettled racers may pass o'er the sea--
  Shall sentiment challenge _thy_ claims, L. S. D.?
  Our pictures may go without serious plaint--
  What are the best pictures but canvas and paint?
  Our Press? Let the alien toff take his pick.
  When the Dollar dictates shall mere patriots kick?
  Our hills and our forests? If Oil-kings appear,
  And want them--for cash--as preserves for their deer.
  Down, down with mere pride--so they're down with the dust!
  Mammon's word is the great categorical Must!
  The Dollar's Almighty, the Millionnaire's King!
  Sell, sell _anyone_ who'll bid _high--anything_.
  What offers for--London? Who bids for--the Thames?
  Cracks go, Cliveden follows. What Briton condemns?
  Cash rules. For the Dollar-King BULL shies his castor.
  Buy! Buy! That's the cry, JOHN. _Sic itur ad_--ASTOR!

       *       *       *       *       *

BOOKED AT THE LYCEUM BOX-OFFICE.--Four nights a week _Becket_ is
given. Programme is varied on the other two nights. A simple gentleman
said to the Clerk at the Box-Office, "I want two stalls." _The Clerk._
"_For Becket?_" "No," returned the simple one; "for _me_."

       *       *       *       *       *

SOMETHING FOR NOTHING.

DEAR MR. PUNCH,--From a communication to one of the daily papers, it
appears that "a hundred ladies and gentlemen who find the works of
HENDRIK IBSEN (perhaps not all for exactly the same reasons, but who
agree in finding them) among the most interesting productions of the
modern theatre, have guaranteed the estimated expenses of a series
of twelve performances, at which three of IBSEN'S plays will be
presented." This arrangement is carried out by "each guarantor
receiving in seats at the current theatrical prices the full value of
his subscription," as "the State will not subsidize a theatre, and no
millionnaire seems inclined to endow one."

This is clear enough, but it has occurred to me that, as after the
first few performances there may be a goodly number of untenanted
seats, it would be as well to provide auxiliary aid to fill them. It
would scarcely be fair to call upon the guarantors to pay the audience
to be present at the "entertainments" provided for their amusement.
And yet, unless the houses are good, the actors will not do themselves
justice, and the plays of HENDRIK IBSEN will suffer in consequence.
I fear that it would be revolting to humanity to insist upon the
attendance of the less intelligent inmates of the Asylum for Idiots,
and yet here would be an appropriate path out of the difficulty. Under
the circumstances, could not the State (with the aid of a short Act of
Parliament) still render assistance? I see no reason why thieves
and other dishonest characters should not have a portion of their
sentences remitted on condition that they attended the IBSEN
performances. Such an arrangement would save the rate-payers the
expense of the prisoners' keep. The audience I have suggested would
also be free from temptation, for when they were assisting at a
representation of one of IBSEN'S plays, I venture to believe they
would find nothing worth stealing.

A PRACTICAL MAN.

       *       *       *       *       *


[Illustration: WASTED IRONY.

"WHO'S THAT DOWN-STAIRS, JANE?"--"SOME FRIENDS OF MINE, MA'AM."

"BUT YOU HAD SOME FRIENDS YESTERDAY, JANE!"--"YES, MA'AM."

"AND ON MONDAY NIGHT!"--"YES, MA'AM."

"DON'T YOU THINK YOU HAD BETTER HAVE A REGULAR DAY AT HOME EACH
WEEK?"--"THANK YOU, MA'AM! THAT WILL BE VERY NICE!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.

EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M.P.

_House of Commons, May 8._--"What a day we are having, to be sure!"
said CHAMBERLAIN, rubbing his hands and smiling delightedly. Things
certainly pretty lively to begin with; just got into Committee on
Home-Rule Bill; CHARLIE (my DARLING) was to have opened Debate with
Amendment on first line of First Clause; but, as he subsequently
explained to sympathetic Committee, he was weighed down with feeling
of diffidence. House, touched with this unusual weakness on part
of Member for Deptford, readily accepted volunteered service of
CHAMBERLAIN, who undertook to say a few words on another Amendment
whilst DARLING was recovering.

No diffidence about JOSEPH. As he observed in stormiest epoch of
sitting, he was as cool as a cucumber. "A cucumber with full allowance
of vinegar and pepper," SQUIRE of MALWOOD added, in one of those
asides with which he varies the silence of Treasury Bench. Well there
was someone at that temperature. Committee, take it all together, in
volcanic mood. Peculiarity of situation, as SAUNDERSON put it, with
some mixing of metaphor, was that "it was the cucumber that kept the
pot a-boiling." Whenever any sign of placidity was visible, JOSEPH
sure to appear on scene, rub someone's hair the wrong way, or stir up
some slumbering lion with long pole.

"Ever stop to watch the Punch show in the streets, TOBY?" said
PLUNKET. "No, I suppose not; rather personal; recall days before you
went into politics. Confess I always do; been chuckling just now over
idea that here we have the whole thing played out. There's _Mr. Punch_
in person of Mr. G. Up comes a head, GRANDOLPH'S, or someone else's;
down comes the baton in the form of the Closure. Everyone supposes
that Law and Order are established and things will go smoothly, when
suddenly up springs JOEY, cool as a cucumber, and upsets everything
again. There's nothing new under the sun, not even proceedings in
obstruction of Home-Rule Bill."

After dinner SOLICITOR-GENERAL discovered seated on Treasury Bench. A
great thirst for speech from him suddenly afflicted Opposition. Mr.
G. spoke, and JOHN MORLEY moved the Closure, but nothing would satisfy
them save speech from RIGBY. Pauses in conversation were filled by
cries upon his name. He sat unresponsive, looking wiser than ever, but
still unspeakably wise.

DARLING'S Amendment got rid of with assistance of Closure. GRANDOLPH
rushed in; hotly moved to report progress. Only ten o'clock; two hours
more before Debate adjourned. This merrily filled up with divisions,
shouting, and scenes. GRANDOLPH'S motion to Report Progress being
negatived on division. PRINCE ARTHUR moved that Chairman leave the
Chair, division on which just tided Committee over twelve o'clock,
without chance of doing more work.

"I feel twelve years younger," said GRANDOLPH, coming in from last
division. "Reminds me of first Session of 1880 Parliament, when we sat
below Gangway there, and bandied about these alternative resolutuions,
me moving to Report Progress; then, when we came back again, WOLFFY,
GORST, or sometimes, to give the boy a turn, PRINCE ARTHUR moved
that Chairman leave the Chair. That was long before he came into his
princedom. House of Commons pretty dull these six years back. After
all, it's the same old place, and, if we give our mind to it, we can
have the same old game."

_Business done._--Got into Committee on Home Rule Bill.

_Thursday._--Noisiest evening we have enjoyed since Parliament
elected. Peculiarity of situation was that everybody, not excluding
Chairman of Committees, strenuously anxious to preserve order. Quiet
enough till CHAMBERLAIN appeared on scene, then followed the ordinary
cool-cucumbery results. TIM HEALY torn with anxiety that JOSEPH should
limit himself strictly to Motion before Committee. Sort of triangular
duel; JOSEPH at corner Bench below Gangway to right of Chair; TIM in
corresponding position opposite; MELLOR in (and out of) Chair; all
three on their feet simultaneously; Committee assisting in general
desire for peace and order by tumultuous shouting. TIM fired furiously
at JOSEPH; JOSEPH answered shot for shot; Chairman pegged away
alternately at both.

[Illustration: HOME RULE ENTERTAINMENT St Stephens

"Joey up again!" Scene from the Parliamentary Show.]

Then GRANDOLPH, finding temptation irresistible, romped in. "I move,"
he said, "that the words be taken down." Very well; quite so; but
what words? The Chamber was full of words, surging like the waters at
Lodore. Which particular ones would GRANDOLPH like taken down? Turned
out that his desire centred upon almost the only words that had not
been uttered. "I distinctly heard the Member for Louth say, 'You
are knocked up.'" So GRANDOLPH solemnly declared, standing at table.
Whilst Irish Members popped up like parched peas on Benches below
Gangway, CHAMBERLAIN took opportunity of looking over his notes, and
Chairman, standing at table, forlornly wrung his hands, TIM HEALY sat
a model of Injured Innocence. As it turned out he, by rare chance,
had not spoken at all. This made clear upon testimony of MACARTNEY
and JOHNSTON of Ballykilbeg. What TIM felt most acutely was, not being
thus groundlessly charged with disorderly speech, but that GRANDOLPH,
for whom he has a warm respect, should imagine that if he _had_
an observation to offer in the circumstances, it would be one so
frivolously harmless as that cited. To observe to somebody "You
are knocked up," might, with tone of commiseration thrown in, be a
friendly, almost an affectionate, remark. Why the words, if uttered
at all, should be taken down, no one could even guess. TIM sat in
deep dejection, overborne by this unexpected and undeserved contumely.
Parched-pea business on Benches round him became contagious; MELLOR
up and down in the Chair with corresponding motion; SWIFT MACNEILL
shouting something at top of his voice; Ross rising to explain;
JOHNSTON of Ballykilbeg actually explaining; MACARTNEY saying
something; TOMMY BOWLES, not to be out of it, moving that somebody
else's words be taken down. At length, in comparative lull in storm,
Chairman adroitly signalled to CHAMBERLAIN, who continued his speech.
Members, generally, gratefully availed themselves of his interposition
to take their breath.

[Illustration: _Mr. J. G. L-ws-n, having found in a dictionary the
Irish word for "a House of Commons," obliges:--_

  In Irish, I will sing it clear,
  There's a name for the House which you shall hear.
  (_Spoken_) Which is
  (_Sings_) "Riaz-na-Nuaral"-tooral-looral
                Ri-az tolooral ri do!

  [_Chorus everybody._]

"Do you know, TOBY, what this reminds me of?" said Earl SPENCER,
looking down on turbulent scene from Peers' Gallery. "Carries me back
to boyhood's days, and what used to happen when, in temporary absence
of head-master, French usher took charge of the school."

J. G. LAWSON, on spending time in Library, looking up native name
for proposed Legislative Assembly in Dublin. Found what it used to be
called when BRIAN was King; written name down, tries to pronounce it.
TIM HEALY says, as far as he can make out, LAWSON is speaking Welsh;
it is suggested that Chairman shall put Question. MELLOR says he's
quite enough to do to put Amendments in English; declines to attempt
the Irish. LAWSON withdraws, using awful language, which he insists is
Irish. It sounds even worse.

_Business done._--Blusterous.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: OPENING OF THE IMPERIAL INSTITUTE.

(_Rough Sketch by Our Artist without elbow-room._)]

       *       *       *       *       *

_Saturday Morning._--Another afternoon in Committee on Home-Rule Bill.
Not so lively as yesterday, but equal amount of business not done,
which, after all is the thing. House fairly full; gunpowder lying
about in all directions, as shown by occasional flash; and one regular
explosion. Went off to Library; sat in quiet corner with PRINCE
ARTHUR'S last book in hand. Fancy I must have fallen asleep; found
tall figure sitting next to me; drowsily recognised RAIKES. Couldn't
be RAIKES, you know; long ago gone to another place. Yet figure
unmistakeable, and voice well remembered. Seem to have been asking him
question.

"What do I think about new Chairman?" he was saying. "Well, of course,
that is a delicate question to put to me; was Chairman myself for many
sessions; know every thorn in the cushion of the seat. It is, I should
say, the most difficult post in House; far more so than SPEAKER'S.
SPEAKER is robed about with authority that does not pertain to
Chairman. Observations which, addressed to SPEAKER, would be flat
blasphemy, are, when flung at Chairman of Ways and Means, merely
choleric words. Apart from that, position is, through long stretches
of sitting, more arduous. When full-dress debate going on, SPEAKER
of judgment and experience can go easy; may even, upon occasion,
strategically doze. One did in times not so long ago, and was caught
_flagrante asleepoh_. MACKWORTH PRAED was Member of the House then;
made little speech in verse on incident. You remember it?

  Sleep, Mr. SPEAKER; it's surely fair,
  If you don't in your bed, that you should in your Chair;
  Longer and longer still they grow,
  Tory and Radical, Aye and No
  Talking by night, and talking by day.
  Sleep, Mr. SPEAKER; sleep, sleep, while you may.

[Illustration: Blind Man's Buff with the Chairman; or, "The Mellor and
His Men."]

"Chairman must be on alert every moment in Committee. Rule under his
jurisdiction is conversation as opposed to speech-making when SPEAKER
in Chair. Any moment out of depths of dulness may suddenly rise a
whirlwind, which he is expected forthwith to ride. Especially in
connection with Bill like this now before Committee, Chairman is in
state of tension from time he takes Chair till he leaves. Don't forget
all this when you criticise MELLOR, still new to place. He's a good
fellow, and a shrewd one; but has, among other difficulties, to fight
against proneness to good-nature. Good-nature out of place in the
Chair. COURTNEY knew that, and successfully overcame his natural
tendencies. MELLOR too anxious to oblige. Must get over that. Above
all, should never explain. Suddenly called upon for decision on knotty
point, must needs make mistake sometimes. If he does, unless it be
very serious, _he should stick to it_. For Chairman of Committees,
better to be in the wrong and uphold authority of Chair, than
to wriggle into the right at its expense. MELLOR should be more
monosyllabic in his style, more ruthless in his dealing with
disorderly interruption, more wary about putting his foot down, but,
being planted, it should be immovable. It would make his fortune if he
could only name CHAMBERLAIN. That would be difficult, I know, for JOEY
C. is sly, dev'lish sly. He should begin with JEMMY LOWTHER, who
gives plenty of chances. Thence he might work upwards. Is that a bell
ringing? Yes. Must be off, or I'll get shut out. We've lately adopted
the Early Closing Movement."

Certainly bell was ringing; it was for Division on Clause I. Still
fact seems to run on all fours with what I remember RAIKES talking of
just now. Yet, again, when one comes to think of it, can a bell run on
all fours? Everything very strange. Shall go and vote.

_Business done._--Clause I. agreed to.

       *       *       *       *       *

TO THE WOOLSACK.

  Sincere congratulations for
  Our conscience-keeping Chancellor.
  Whom lawyers know as HERSCHELL, C.
  Is now Lord HERSCHELL, G.C.B.

       *       *       *       *       *

AN ADDITION TO THE CALENDAR.--Sir SOMERS VINE, in recognition of his
services in connection with the Imperial Institute, has been appointed
a Companion of St. Michael and St. George. And why not? He will be
found excellent company.

       *       *       *       *       *



Transcriber's Note:

Missing and illegible/damaged punctuation has been repaired.

Page 240: 'dulness' is correct--

from Oxford Online Dictionary:

dull ... -- DERIVATIVES dullness (also dulness).









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