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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 98
+February 15, 1890, by Various
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 98 February 15, 1890
+
+Author: Various
+
+Editor: Francis Burnand
+
+Release Date: September 8, 2009 [EBook #29930]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, CHARIVARI, FEB 15, 1890 ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Neville Allen, Malcolm Farmer and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+  PUNCH,
+
+  OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
+
+  VOLUME 98
+
+  FEBRUARY 15, 1890
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration]
+
+UNTILED; OR, THE MODERN ASMODEUS.
+
+    "Très volontiers," repartit le démon. "Vous aimez les tableaux
+    changeans: je veux vous contenter."
+
+    _Le Diable Boiteux._
+
+  XX.
+
+  Sweet odours, radiant colours, glittering light!
+  How swift a change from the dusk sodden night
+    Of London in mid-winter!
+  _Titania_ here might revel as at home;
+  Fair forms are floating soft as Paphian foam,
+    Bright as an iceberg-splinter.
+
+  Dianas doubtless, yet their frost holds fire;
+  The snowiest bosom covers soft desire,
+    And these are snowy, verily.
+  As blanched--and bare--as Himalaya's peaks,
+  Light-vestured as a troop of dancing Greeks.
+    Waltz-measures ripple merrily.
+
+  Merrily? Yes; the music throbs with mirth,
+  Feet trip in time to it; yet what strange dearth
+    Of glee midst all these graces!
+  The quickening fire of spirit, passion, will,
+  Seems scarce to move these dancing forms or thrill
+    These irresponsive faces.
+
+  The Shadow smiled. "True, yet not true," he said.
+  "Good Form demands that men should look half dead,
+    And women semi-frozen.
+  Yet Nature lives beneath these modish masks
+  Somewhere, sometimes, with energy that tasks
+    Caste's rigid rule to cozen.
+
+  "Pygmalion's prayer breathed life into the stone,
+  But see yon graceful girl, with straitened zone
+    And statuesque still bearing.
+  You'd say in her the marble must invade
+  The flesh, in so much loveliness arrayed,
+    Such radiant raiment wearing.
+
+  "Whirled in the waltz's formal maze by one
+  Who might be a broad-cloth'd automaton,
+    For any show of pleasure,
+  She moves with drooping lids, and lips apart,
+  And scarce a flush to show that a young heart
+    Throbs to the pulsing measure."
+
+  "Men meet to moon, and women whirl to wed,
+  The cynic says. Is joy in life quite dead.
+    Gladness in concourse banished
+  From the parades of fashionable youth?
+  Have maiden tenderness and manly truth
+    From Vanity Fair quite vanished?"
+
+  "Soft!" sneered the Shadow. "Questionings like these
+  Sound _gauche_ and gushing. Better far to freeze
+    To the right social zero,
+  Than stoop to zeal and frank display of zest,
+  Notes of the vulgar glories that invest
+    The housemaid-novel's hero.
+
+  "Nothing more useful than the surface-ice
+  Of stiff stolidity. Vigour, aye, and vice,
+    Therein find ready covert.
+  Wickedness here may lurk, or even wit.
+  Not to name happiness; but naught of it
+    Is obvious and overt.
+
+  "How bored they look, the slim stiff-collared boys!
+  Energy that is eager and enjoys
+    They may anon make show of
+  In some less honest haunt; here as in pain
+  They creak and crawl, devoid of that _sans gêne_
+    That virtue seems sworn foe of.
+
+  "Languidly circumvolving, lounging lank,
+  In scuffling circle or in mural rank,
+    Of misery mechanic
+  They look the wooden symbols; nought to show
+  That even well-starched linen's sheeny snow
+    Veils impulses volcanic.
+
+  "That straight-limb'd son of Anak circling there
+  Much like a whirling semaphore, strange care
+    His boyish forehead wrinkling?
+  The season's catch! His sire, is great in Soap,
+  His partner's mother yonder sits; with hope
+    Her watchful eyes are twinkling.
+
+  "The twirling twain are silent. Silence sits
+  Lord of the revel, incubus of wits
+    Arch palsier of prattle
+  Yet many a girl here mute's a chatterer sweet,
+  And many a youth in circles less discrete
+    Is an 'agreeable rattle.'
+
+  "Respectability's austere restraint
+  Rules them relentlessly; smiles forced and faint
+    And joyless facial spasms
+  Their meetings and their mutterings attend.
+  Jerky approximations quickly end
+    In void unvocal chasms.
+
+  "Yet still they circle, and yet still they loll.
+  A marionette wooing a wooden doll
+    Would look more animated
+  Than yonder pair, revolving interlaced,
+  Exchanging commonplaces leaden-paced,
+    Or repartees belated."
+
+  "Mammon by day and maundering at night
+  Oh, Shade!" I cried, "can furnish scant delight,
+    The Race for Wealth is rapid.
+  How can the feverish rush find true relief
+  In heartless intercourse, as bald as brief,
+    Amusement vain as vapid?"
+
+  "Amusement? Intercourse? They scarce exist."
+  The Shadow answered. "Some Boeotian mist
+    Society blinds and muddles.
+  True recreation in this joyless round?
+  The sea's bright changefulness as soon were found
+    In Pedlington's rain-puddles.
+
+  "The cliques and coteries know not how to mix.
+  A barrier more impassable than Styx
+    Is Philistine stupidity.
+  Were mutual amusement meeting's aim,
+  Mind _must_ move maidenhood inert and tame,
+    Melt masculine rigidity.
+
+  "Concourse, not intercourse, is what you see:
+  To mix, and sympathise, and to be free,
+    Is the true sociality.
+  These meet, like marbles mingled in a bag,
+    And the net outcome, friend, is friction, fag,
+  Boredom, and sheer banality.
+
+  "The strongest symptom of quick life crops out
+  In watchful mutual mockery. Gibe and flout
+    In low asides flow freely.
+  Oh, bland elysium for the brave and fair,
+  Whose pleasures are the snigger and the stare,
+    Chill snub, and eye-glance steely!
+
+  "Prigdom's Philistia, though a polished State,
+  Has not yet learned quite how to recreate.
+    Gath in the ball-room gathers,
+  Askelon haunts 'At homes,' but little joy
+  Bring they to man or matron, girl or boy,
+    To swells or City-fathers."
+
+  (_To be continued._)
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+AU REVOIR!
+
+Mr. PUNCH _and_ Mr. J. L. TOOLE _discovered smoking a last cigar_.
+
+_Mr. P._ And so, my dear JOHNNIE, you are leaving us at once?
+
+_Mr. J. L. T._ Yes, Sir, but I hope soon to be back again. I am looking
+forward to the voyage as an excellent digestive to all the luncheons,
+dinners, and suppers I have been taking for the last five or six weeks.
+
+_Mr. P._ I have no doubt they have been a little trying--eh, JOHNNIE?
+
+_Mr. J. L. T._ And yet, as I have observed in the _Upper Crust_, "they
+were very welcome." But, Sir, how did I get through my oratory? Did you
+notice my speeches at the Garrick and the Savage? Which did you prefer?
+
+_Mr. P._ I heard the first, and read a report of the second, and can
+conscientiously declare they were equally good.
+
+_Mr. J. L. T._ I am glad to hear you say so, Sir. I confess I didn't
+think there was _much_ to choose between them. And now (_with deep
+emotion_), will you excuse my glove?
+
+_Mr. P._ No; I won't say good-bye; for wherever you may roam, my dear
+JOHNNIE, you will have this consolation--you will find me there before
+you!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: "There is now a strong impression that the Money Market
+has at last tided over the period of tightness."--_Daily News_, Feb. 4.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: THE IMPERIAL SOCIALIST.]
+
+  _A Song of a Strange Development._
+
+  Will you walk into my Congress? says the Emperor unto Labour;
+  'Tis the nicest little Congress; I'm inviting many a neighbour.
+  The way into my Congress by this Rescript I prepare,
+  And we shall have some curious things to show you--when you're there.
+      Then won't you, won't you, little International Working-Man?
+
+  We've already done a little to improve poor Labour's lot,
+  Shorten its hours, insure its life, and help to fill its pot.
+  But the poorer and the weaker yet fall short of the reality
+  Of "conformity to the principles of Chris-ti-an morality."
+                  Then won't you, &c.
+
+  'Tis one of the State's duties, friends, to regulate the time,
+  The duration and the nature of your work,--a task sublime;
+  And you'll find we'll do it better, if you only won't resist,
+  Than that most obnoxious personage, the shouting Socialist.
+                  Then won't you, &c.
+
+  I'm an Emperor by profession, but I have my little plan
+  For improving the position of the German Working-man.
+  But the International Question stands a little in the way,
+  So I've asked the Nations to convene--I only hope they may.
+                  Then won't you, &c.
+
+  And when they get together they will do--well, we shall see;
+  But the Socialists shan't have _all_ their own way with Industry.
+  _I_ recognise the justice of the Workmen's aspirations,
+  And upon their wants and wishes I would start "negotiations."
+                  Then won't you, &c.
+
+  Oh, I know my plan will bring up all the fogies in full blast,
+  And Coercion and Protection I see looking on aghast.
+  But I'm game to turn deaf ear to them, if _you_ will only list,
+  To that latest, strangest birth of time, the Imperial Socialist!
+                  Then won't you, &c.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+HOW TO MAKE THE MOST OF IT.
+
+_Hints from the Chancellor of the Exchequer's correspondence._
+
+SIR,--If you wish to immortalise yourself as Chancellor of the
+Exchequer, now is your opportunity. You have a surplus, I believe, of
+eight or nine millions? This is about the figure required to provide the
+Members of the London County Council with a moderate-sized palace, not
+perhaps entirely suited to their exalted dignity, but, at least,
+sufficient to house them in something like proper and fitting style. A
+site should be secured on the Embankment, by clearing away Somerset
+House, and the intervening buildings, including the blocks of the Inner
+and Middle Temple, which could all be carted away and re-erected further
+down, say, at Millbank, and on the space thus secured a white marble
+structure could be reared with an adequately imposing façade facing the
+river, that would in some slight degree represent the majesty of the
+illustrious body destined to occupy it. I don't say that nine millions
+would be enough thoroughly to carry out the design I have in view, but
+your surplus might serve as a central fund to begin upon, to which
+Parliament, no doubt, would cheerfully add another five or six millions
+if required. Such an obvious use for your money, I feel, needs no
+further argument from yours encouragingly and suggestively,
+
+  A FULL BLOWN LONDON COUNTY COUNCILLOR.
+
+SIR,--I have several near relatives in the Colonies, with whom I have,
+owing to the present exorbitant rates for postage, not communicated for
+many years. This fact has suggested to me that _the_ golden opportunity
+now offers itself to you of re-uniting family ties, re-opening closed
+correspondence, restoring natural affection in otherwise hardened
+breasts, and, in a word, consolidating the Empire, it may be, for
+countless ages yet unborn. Spend your surplus, Sir, in providing this
+country and all her dependencies with a _farthing postage_--mind, not a
+_penny_, but a FARTHING POSTAGE! I read somewhere that the actual cost
+to the Government for the transport of letters was at the rate of ten
+for a penny. Thus your four millions sunk in the enterprise ought to
+produce you an immediate profit, at least so I make it, of six millions
+a year. But, profit or no profit, think of the boon to thousands of
+Englishmen like myself, who could then stand a penny-worth of
+correspondence in the year, with children with whom now they are unable
+to communicate, owing to the cruel and crushing charge of fivepence for
+a single letter. Picture one who, though not close over money matters,
+and full of love for his offspring, must yet sign himself
+
+  A CIRCUMSPECT AND CAUTIOUS PARENT.
+
+SIR,--Have you read Lord WOLSELEY's article in this month's _Harper_? He
+advises a higher rate of pay for the rank and file of the British Army?
+_Verbum sap._ You understand. It is clear what you must do with your
+surplus. Ensure TOMMY ATKINS six-and-six-pence a day, and you will have
+every Regiment in the Service thronged with real live Gentlemen. This is
+what is wanted (so I gather from Lord W.'s article) to make the British
+Army, if not the most costly, at least the most respectable in the
+world. Come, Sir, do not make it necessary that you should be reminded a
+second time of your plain and obvious duty by
+
+  A SANGUINE AND EXPECTANT PRIVATE.
+
+SIR,--There can be no doubt in regard to the proper destination of those
+surplus millions, the fitting disposition of which, I am informed, is
+involving you in no little perplexity. They seem in a special manner to
+furnish the legitimate answer to the almost universal cry, now going
+forth, for "Free Education." Here then is your opportunity. And it is a
+magnificent one. Your surplus will enable a wise and paternal Government
+to give not merely education, free of cost, to every child in the three
+kingdoms, but will supply it with ample means to infuse the very highest
+culture attainable into the very dregs of the population. Spanish,
+Italian, German, Russian, French, Chinese, together with riding,
+dancing, painting in oil colours, hydrostatics, and the elements of
+Court etiquette, will, henceforth, comprise the curriculum of the
+veriest gutter-child.
+
+Can you, Sir, contemplate such a brilliant, such a soul-stirring
+prospect unmoved? That you cannot, and will at once hand over your
+useful millions for the purpose of carrying into effect the above modest
+but magnificent scheme, is the firm belief of yours suggestively,
+
+  THE LATEST TEACHER OF THE YOUNG IDEA.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: A DIAGNOSIS.]
+
+"IT SAYS 'ERE, AS YOUR OLD BOSS, COLONEL M'WHUSKEY, HAS BEEN TOOK
+ILL."--"AH! SO I 'ERD!"--"RUSSIAN EPIDEMIC?"--"NO,--SCOTCH."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.
+
+[Illustration: Book Markers.]
+
+"Bring me my Scotch Dictionary!" cried the Baron. "Alas, my Lord!" was
+the answer of the faithful servitor, "there is none such here."
+"I'fakins!" quoth the Baron, "then will I buckle to and read _A Window
+in Thrums_ without it, even though I break all my teeth and nigh choke
+myself, as indeed, I have well-nigh done in my gallant attempt to master
+the first two chapters." So I, the Baron, being convalescent and having
+a few hours to spare, lay me down and read, and read, and read, and
+stumbled over the Scotch words and phrases, until I hit on the plan of
+reading it aloud to two or three other convalescents; just to see how
+_they_ would like it. And as I read aloud, this book,--which on account
+of its apparent difficulty, and by reason of my education having been
+neglected, "lang syne," in respect to the Scotch language, an intimate
+knowledge of which I have not yet acquired "the noo,"--it gained my
+affection gradually, steadily, and increasingly. Though I could not have
+translated individual words and phrases, yet I instinctively understood
+them, and was delighted with the homely simplicity of the style, the
+keen observation, the shrewd wit, and the gentle pathos of _A Window in
+Thrums_. The BARON DE BOOK-WORMS is grateful to Mr. J. M. BARRIE; and
+when an opportunity is offered him, he is seriously thinking of
+re-reading some of the Scotchiest of Sir WALTER SCOTT'S Novels, and
+having a "Nicht or twa wi' ROBBIE BURNS."
+
+I await the Reminiscences of Mr. MONTAGU WILLIAMS, Q.C. and P.M., with
+considerable interest.
+
+Mr. KEITH FLEMING'S romance, _Can such Things be? or, the Weird of the
+Beresfords_,--no relation to Lord CHARLES of that ilk,--starts, and will
+make the reader start too, with a very creepy idea. The story would have
+been a genuine weird and eerie one but for the continual twaddling
+interruptions about "spookikal" research and metaphysical problems,
+which, however, the experienced skipper, who knows the chart, can easily
+avoid after the first two or three bumps, and even the inexperienced
+reader will be able, after an hour or two, to hop from point to point
+like a robin from twig to twig. But skipping and hopping is wearying,
+and the story is too long, and so we become familiar with the ghost, and
+we all know what the fatal consequence of familiarity is. The
+repetitions of the Spook's appearance are monotonous. Had _The Weird_
+been condensed like milk in tins, or essenced like Liebig, and been
+presented to the public as a story in two numbers of _Blackwood_ (always
+such an appropriate title for a Magazine full of mysterious
+stories,--BLACK WOOD so like Black Forest) or _Macmillan_, or _Cornhill_
+(where, somehow, a ghost-story always reads uncommonly well), this
+romance would have created a great sensation. As it is, it doesn't, at
+least not much. BARON DE BOOK-WORMS.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+MR. PUNCH'S MORAL MUSIC-HALL DRAMAS.
+
+Our present Drama (No. VI.) represents an attempt to illustrate upon the
+Music-hall Stage the eternal truth that race _will_ tell in the long
+run, despite--but, on second thoughts, it does not _quite_ prove that,
+though it certainly shows the unerring accuracy of parental--at least,
+that is not exactly its tendency, either; and the fact is that _Mr.
+Punch_ is more than a little mixed himself as to the precise theory
+which it is designed to enforce. He hopes, however, that, as a realistic
+study of Patrician life and manners, it will possess charms for a
+democratic audience.
+
+COMING OF AGE.
+
+_A Grand Social Psychological Comedy-Drama, in One Act._
+
+DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.
+
+_The Earl of Burntalmond._
+_The Countess of Burntalmond_    (_his wife_).
+_Robert Henry Viscount Bullsaye_ (_their son and heir_).
+_The Lady Rose Caramel_          (_niece to the Earl_).
+_Horehound._            }   (_Travelling as "The Celebrated Combination_
+_Mrs. Horehound._       }   _Korffdropp Troupe," in their refined and_
+_Coltsfoot Horehound._  }        _elegant Drawing-room Entertainment._)
+_Tenantry._
+
+SCENE--_The Great Quadrangle of Hardbake Castle; banners, mottoes,
+decorations, &c. On the steps, R., the Earl, supported by his wife, son,
+and niece, is discovered in the act of concluding a speech to six
+tenantry, who display all the enthusiasm that is reasonably to be
+expected at ninepence a night._
+
+[Illustration]
+
+_The Earl (patting_ Lord BULLSAYE'S _shoulder)._ I might say more,
+Gentlemen, in praise of my dear son, Lord BULLSAYE, here--I might dwell
+on his extreme sweetness, his strongly marked character, the variety of
+his tastes, and the singular attraction he has for children of all
+ages--but I forbear. I will merely announce that on this day--the day he
+has selected for attaining his majority--he has gratified us all by
+plighting troth to his cousin, the Lady ROSE CARAMEL, with whose dulcet
+and clinging disposition he has always possessed the greatest natural
+affinity. [_Cheers._
+
+_Lord Bullsaye_ (_aside to_ Lady R.). Ah, ROSE, would such happiness
+could last! But my heart misgives me strangely--why, I know not.
+
+_Lady R._ Say not so, dear BULLSAYE--have you not just rendered me the
+happiest little Patrician in the whole peerage?
+
+_Lord B._ 'Tis true--and yet, and yet--pooh, let me snatch the present
+hour! [_Snatches it._
+
+_The Earl._ And now, let the Revels commence.
+
+_Enter the_ Korffdropp Troupe, _who give their marvellous Entertainment,
+entitled, "The Three Surprise Packets;" after which--_
+
+_Horehound._ This will conclude the first portion of our Entertainment,
+Lords, Ladies, and Gentlemen; and, while my wife and pardner retires to
+change her costoom for the Second Part, I should be glad of the
+hoppertoonity of a short pussonal hexplanation with the noble Herl on my
+right. [_Exit_ Mrs. HOREHOUND.
+
+_The Earl_ (_graciously_). I will hear you, fellow! (_Aside._) Strange
+how familiar his features seem to me!
+
+_Horeh._ The fact is, your Lordship's celebrating the coming of hage of
+the _wrong heir_. (_Sensation--i.e., the six tenantry shift from one leg
+to the other, and murmur feebly._) Oh, I can prove it. Twenty-one years
+ago--(_slow music_)--I was in your Lordship's service as gamekeeper,
+'ead whip, and hextry waiter. My son and yours was born the selfsame
+day, and my hold woman was selected to hact as foster-mother to the
+youthful lord. Well--(_tells a long, and not entirely original, story;
+marvellous resemblance between infants, only distinguishable by green
+and magenta bows, &c., &c._) Soon after, your Lordship discharged me at
+a moment's notice----
+
+_The Earl_ (_haughtily_). I did, upon discovering that you were in the
+habit of surreptitiously carrying off kitchen-stuff, concealed within
+your umbrella. But proceed with your narration.
+
+_Horeh._ I swore to be avenged, and so--(_common form again; the shifted
+bows_)--consequently, as a moment's reflection will convince you, the
+young man on the steps, in the button-'ole and tall 'at, is my lawful
+son, while the real Viscount is--(_presenting_ COLTSFOOT, _who advances
+modestly on his hands_)--'ere! [_Renewed sensation._
+
+_The Earl._ This is indeed a startling piece of intelligence. (_To_ Lord
+B.) And so, Sir, it appears that your whole life has been one consistent
+imposition--a gilded _lie_?
+
+_Lord B._ Let my youth and inexperience at the time, Sir, plead as my
+best excuse!
+
+_The E._ Nothing can excuse the fact that you--you, a low-born son of
+the people, have monopolised the training, the tenderness and education,
+which were the due of your Patrician foster-brother. (_To_ COLTSFOOT.)
+Approach, my injured, long-lost boy, and tell me how I may atone for
+these years of injustice and neglect!
+
+_Coltsf._ Well, Guv'nor, if you could send out for a pot o' four arf, it
+'ud be a _beginning_, like.
+
+_The E._ You shall have every luxury that befits your rank, but first
+remove that incongruous garb.
+
+_Colts_, (_to_ Lord B.). These 'ere togs belong to _you_ now, young
+feller, and I reckon exchange ain't no robbery.
+
+_Lord B._ (_with emotion, to_ Countess). Mother, can you endure to
+behold your son in tights and spangles on the very day of his majority?
+
+_Countess_ (_coldly_). On the contrary, it is my wish to see him attired
+as soon as possible, in a more appropriate costume.
+
+_Lord B._ (_to_ Lady R.). ROSE, _you_, at least, have not changed? Tell
+me you will love me still--even on the precarious summit of an acrobat's
+pole!
+
+_Lady Rose_ (_scornfully_). Really the presumptuous familiarity of the
+lower orders is perfectly appalling!
+
+_The Earl_ (_to_ Countess, _as_ Lord B. _and_ COLTSFOOT _retire to
+exchange costumes_). At last, PAULINE, I understand why I could never
+feel towards BULLSAYE the affection of a parent. Often have I reproached
+myself for a coldness I could not overcome.
+
+_Countess._ And I too! Nature was too strong for us. But, oh, the joy of
+recovering our son--of finding him so strong, so supple, so agile. Never
+yet has our line boasted an heir who can feed himself from a fork
+strapped on to his dexter heel!
+
+_The E._ (_with emotion_). Our beloved, boneless boy!
+
+[_Re-enter_ COLTSFOOT _in modern dress, and_ Lord B. _in tights_.
+
+_Colts._ Don't I look slap-up--O.K. and no mistake? Oh, I _am_ 'aving a
+beano!
+
+_All._ What easy gaiety, and unforced animation!
+
+_The E._ My dear boy, let me present you to your _fiancée_. ROSE, my
+love, this is your _legitimate_ lover.
+
+_Colts._ Oh, all right, _I've_ no objections--on'y there'll be ructions
+with the young woman in the tight-rope line as I've been keepin' comp'ny
+with--that's all!
+
+_The E._ Your foster-brother will act as your substitute there.
+(_Proudly._) _My_ son must make no _mésalliance_!
+
+_Rose_ (_timidly_). And, if it would give you any pleasure, I'm sure I
+could soon learn the tight-rope!
+
+_Colts._ Not at _your_ time o' life. Miss, and besides, 'ang it, now I'm
+a lord, I can't have my wife doin' nothing low!
+
+_The E._ Spoken like a true BURNTALMOND! And now let the revels
+re-commence. [_Re-enter_ Mrs. HOREHOUND.
+
+_Horeh._ (_to_ Lord B.). Now then, stoopid, tumble, can't you--what are
+you 'ere _for_?
+
+_Lord B._ (_to the_ Earl). Since it is your command, I obey, though it
+is ill tumbling with a heavy heart!
+
+[_Turns head over heels laboriously._
+
+_Colts._ Call that a somersault? 'Ere, 'old my 'at (_giving tall hat to_
+Lady R.) _I'll_ show yer 'ow to do a turn.
+
+[_Throws a triple somersault._
+
+_All._ What condescension! How his aristocratic superiority is betrayed,
+even in competition with those to the manner born!
+
+_Mrs. Horeh._ (_still in ignorance of the transformation_). Halt! I have
+kept silence till now--even from my husband, but the time has come when
+I _must_ speak. Think you that if he were indeed a lord, he could turn
+such somersaults as those? No--no. I will reveal all. (_Tells same old
+story--except that she herself from ambitious motives transposed the
+infants' bows._) Now, do with me what you will!
+
+_Horeh._ Confusion, so my ill-judged action did but redress the wrong I
+designed to effect!
+
+_The E._ (_annoyed_). This is a serious matter, reflecting as it does
+upon the legitimacy of my lately recovered son. What proof have you,
+woman, of your preposterous allegation?
+
+_Mrs. H._ None, my lord,--but these--
+
+[_Exhibits two faded bunches of ribbon._
+
+_The E._ I cannot resist such overwhelming evidence, fight against it as
+I may.
+
+_Lord B._ (_triumphantly_). And so--oh, Father, Mother, ROSE--dear, dear
+ROSE--I am no acrobat after all!
+
+_The E._ (_sternly_). Would you were anything half so serviceable to the
+community, Sir! I have no superstitious reverence for rank, and am, I
+trust, sufficiently enlightened to discern worth and merit--even beneath
+the spangled vest of the humblest acrobat. Your foster-brother, brief as
+our acquaintance has been, has already endeared himself to all hearts,
+while you have borne a trifling reverse of fortune with sullen
+discontent and conspicuous incapacity. He has perfected himself in a
+lofty and distinguished profession during years spent by _you_, Sir, in
+idly cumbering the earth of Eton and Oxford. Shall I allow him to suffer
+by a purely accidental coincidence? Never! I owe him reparation, and it
+shall be paid to the uttermost penny. From this day, I adopt him as my
+eldest son, and the heir to my earldom, and all other real and personal
+effects. See, ROBERT HENRY, that you treat your foster-brother as your
+senior in future!
+
+_Coltsf._ (_to_ Lord B). Way-oh, ole matey, I don't bear no malice, _I_
+don't! Give us your dooks. [_Offering hand._
+
+_The C._ Ah, BULLSAYE, try to be worthy of such generosity!
+
+[Lord B. _grasps_ COLTSFOOT'S _hand in silence._
+
+_Lady Rose._ And pray, understand that, whether Mr. COLTSFOOT be
+viscount or acrobat, it can make no difference whatever to the
+disinterested affection with which I have lately learnt to regard him.
+
+[_Gives her hand to_ COLTSFOOT, _who squeezes it with ardour_.
+
+_Coltsf._ (_pleasantly_). Well, Father, Mother, your noble Herlship and
+Lady, foster-brother BULLSAYE, and my pretty little sweetart 'ere, what
+do you all say to goin' inside and shunting a little garbage, and
+shifting a drop or so of lotion, eh?
+
+_The E._ A most sensible suggestion, my boy. Let us make these ancient
+walls the scene of the blithest--ahem!--_beano_ they have ever yet
+beheld!
+
+    [_Cheers from Tenantry, as the_ Earl _leads the way into the Castle
+    with_ Mrs. HOREHOUND, _followed by_ HOREHOUND _with the Countess
+    and_ COLTSFOOT _with_ Lady ROSE, Lord BULLSAYE, _discomfited and
+    abashed, entering last as Curtain falls_.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+KICKED!
+
+(_By the Foot of Clara Groomley._)
+
+CHAPTER IV. AND LAST.
+
+In the little sitting-room above his shop sat Mr. ASSID ROPES. It was
+the afternoon before Christmas Day. He had generously allowed all his
+assistants to leave. "If anybody wants their hair cut, or their hat
+ironed," he said, "I'll do it myself, and then they'll wish they
+hadn't."
+
+Yet, when a customer rapped on the floor below, Mr. ROPES felt
+exceedingly angry.
+
+"What do you want?" he called down the stairs.
+
+"I want my hat ironed," said a clear, manly voice.
+
+"Go away! Your hat doesn't want ironing. Go to bed!"
+
+"I will not go away," said the clear, firm voice, "until you have
+attended to my hat--hat once, if you please."
+
+Mr. ROPES came grumbling down the stairs. For one moment he gazed at the
+man in the shop, and then flung his arms round him and wept tears of
+joy.
+
+"My dear old friend, CYRIL MUSH!" he exclaimed.
+
+They had been boys together at Eton, and rowed in the Trinity boat
+together at Cambridge. Fate had separated them.
+
+In less than a minute they were talking over old times together in the
+little sitting-room over the shop. CYRIL MUSH was delighted. "You can't
+charge an old friend anything for just ironing his hat," he said, with
+his peculiarly winning smile.
+
+Before Mr. ROPES could correct this impression, another voice was heard
+in the shop below.
+
+"Can you come down for a minute--to oblige a lady?"
+
+Mr. ROPES descended once more. In a minute he returned.
+
+"Awfully sorry, MUSH, but I must go. I've got to shave a dead poodle,
+and the men are coming to stuff it at nine o'clock to-night. It's for a
+lady--_noblesse oblige_, you know. I'll finish your hat when I come
+back."
+
+In a second he was gone. CYRIL MUSH replaced the lining in his hat, and
+placed it on his head. He went out into the streets. He was wondering
+what poodle it was which Mr. ASSID ROPES had gone to shave. Could it be
+the same? No, most certainly not. So of course it was the same.
+
+In the meanwhile Mr. ROPES had arrived at the house, and had been
+ushered into the chamber of death. The light was very bad, and he
+happened to cut the animal while engaged in shaving it.
+
+"Very sorry, Sir," said Mr. ROPES, from force of habit, "but it's not my
+fault. You've got a pimple there, and you jerked your head just as I was
+going over it. A little powder will put that all right."
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Suddenly it flashed across him that the poodle was not dead if the blood
+flowed. He rushed out of the room, and found himself confronted by a
+handsome, wicked-looking man, of about thirty.
+
+"Excuse me, Sir, but that poodle's not dead. It's in a trance. Just run
+down to the kitchen and fetch me some brandy, some blankets, and some
+hot bricks, and I'll bring it round."
+
+"The dog _is_ dead, and in a very few hours he'll be stuffed," was the
+cruel reply. "You needn't trouble to bring it round. If you've brought
+your tackle round, you can shave it."
+
+"I've been shaving it--and that's how I know."
+
+A door opened on the other side of the passage, and a fair young girl
+came out in tears and a black dress.
+
+"What's the matter, ALGERNON?" she said.
+
+"It's nothing, ALICE. This idiot says that _Tommy's_ not dead."
+
+With one wild yell of joy, a yell that broke the gas-globes, and
+unlinked carriages at all the principal London railway stations, ALICE
+SMITH fell senseless on the floor.
+
+"Out you get!" exclaimed her cousin ALGERNON to Mr. ROPES. "If the dog
+is not dead, come back in two hours, and _prove_ it--otherwise it will
+be dead, and stuffed too."
+
+"Now then," said ALGERNON, when Mr. ROPES had gone, "if _Tommy Atkins_
+is not dead, he soon will be." He grasped his walking-stick, and tried
+the door of the room. It was locked. Mr. ROPES had locked it, and taken
+the key!
+
+"Aha!" he exclaimed. "Baffled! Baffled! Kindly turn the lime-light off
+the swooned maiden, and throw it on to me. Sympathetic music from the
+violins, if you please."
+
+       * * *
+
+One hour had passed. Mr. ALKALOID, the photographer, had met Mr. MUSH.
+Mr. ALKALOID had come from Ryde to London to get his hair singed. The
+two accidentally met Mr. ROPES as he was dashing wildly down the street
+towards his own shop. In one minute all was explained. Mr. ALKALOID had
+fetched his photographic apparatus, and the three were careering back to
+the house where the poodle lay dead. But was he dead? You know he
+wasn't, as well as I do. What do you ask such senseless questions for?
+"It's the only sure test," said ALKALOID. "If that dog's alive, he'll
+wag his tail when I try to photograph him. I never knew it fail."
+
+       * * *
+
+Outside the door of that gorgeously-furnished room stood an excited
+group. ALGERNON, the villain, was soliloquising. ALICE was explaining to
+CYRIL how he had dropped his note down the neck of the wrong girl--who
+was also named SMITH--and how she had been compelled to believe him
+unfaithful. Mr. ROPES was listening attentively at the key-hole, and
+CYRIL was kissing ALICE.
+
+Within the room Mr. ALKALOID was photographing the dead poodle. (I call
+it dead, but of course that doesn't humbug _you_.)
+
+"Now then, we're ready," they heard Mr. ALKALOID say. "Don't stare. Just
+a natural, easy--now then--thank you!"
+
+There was dead silence within the room and without. Then the door
+opened, and Mr. ALKALOID came out cheerfully.
+
+"The poodle's dead all right," he said. "What you took to be blood,
+ROPES, was blacking off your razor. You really ought not to strop them
+on your boot. I'll walk round to your shop with you. I want my hair
+singed."
+
+ALICE went into hysterics; ALGERNON swooned with joy; and CYRIL MUSH had
+a fit.
+
+At the moment of going to press, they are all three still in the above
+condition. The dog, in the meantime, has been accidentally stuffed with
+the stuffing intended for the stuffer's Christmas goose. The goose was
+found, on carving, to be stuffed with several shilling shockers, which
+had been intended to pad the poodle.
+
+And to what better use could they have been put--especially if they were
+all like this?
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: MISUNDERSTOOD!]
+
+(ANNALS OF A QUIET NEIGHBOURHOOD.)
+
+_Daughter of the House_ (_anxious to introduce Partners to each other_).
+"IS YOUR CARD QUITE FULL, MR. M'SAWNEY?" _Mr. M'Sawney._ "OH DEAR, NO!
+WHICH DANCE SHALL I GIVE YOU?"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: THE "SALUTE!" OR, TAKING HIS MEASURE.]
+
+(OPENING OF SESSION, FEB. 11, 1890.)
+
+       * * *
+
+THE "SALUTE;" OR, TAKING DISTANCE.
+
+    "When the assault is given in the presence of spectators, it is not
+    uncommon to precede it by the Salute, which shows the scheme and
+    various figures, as it were, of the attack and defence in a precise,
+    ceremonious manner, and with the same kind of courtly ritual as that
+    which distinguishes the minuet."--_H. A. Colmore Dunn's "Fencing"._
+
+  There, standing face to face, foil in hand,
+    Just out of lunging range they salute,
+  Who anon, swordsman stark, old fencer grand,
+    Must fight their duel out, foot to foot.
+  Mere preliminary flourish, all of this;
+    The punctilio of "form" without a fault;
+  But soon the blades shall counter, clash, and twist,
+                  In assault.
+
+  The ritual of the rapier or the foil;
+    Vastly pretty ceremonial parade.
+  Merest preface to the hot and breathless toil
+    Of the fencers fiercely battling blade to blade.
+  In position! Featly, formally on guard,
+    Engage the blades in quarte. But by-and-by
+  Every subtle thrust and parry, feint and ward,
+                  Each will try.
+
+  Foible to foible! Measure distance! Lunge!
+    Now the thrust ends in the merest harmless touch;
+  But ere the beaten man throws up the sponge,
+    As the boxers say, relaxing his hilt-clutch,
+  There'll be lunges and ripostes of other sort.
+    Firm foot and steady hand must be their friend;
+  The encounter will be struggle, not mere sport,
+                  Ere the end.
+
+  First to left and then to right! Parry of quarte!
+    In pronation by a turn of supple wrist!
+  Parry in tierce! All elegant and smart;
+    But the lethal thrust no parry can resist
+  Comes not in this preliminary play.
+    The defender, so complacent and erect,
+  Will show another pose another day,
+                  We suspect.
+
+  And that grey Grand Old Assailant, who's expert
+    At beat and re-beat, press, and graze, and bind,
+  Will try his best at a disabling hurt;
+    It is not mere parade that's in his mind.
+  Meanwhile he's taking measure of his foe,
+    Meanwhile his foe of him is taking stock;
+  And anon they'll come together in a glow,
+                  With a shock!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE PREMIER'S POWER.
+
+_Brief Fragment of a current Historical Romance._
+
+    [It is whispered that the PRIME MINISTER has of late taken too much
+    into his own hands the conduct of the foreign affairs of the
+    Government.--_Smoking-room Gossip._]
+
+The PRIME MINISTER stood upon the rug, with his back to the fire, and
+regarded his assembled colleagues with an imperious and angry scowl.
+There was a profound and significant silence for several minutes. At
+length it broke. He was addressing them once more.
+
+"You understand the official relationship that exists between us. You
+are my creatures. I am your Master. What I originate, you accept. I act,
+you endorse. Do I," he continued, his voice rising to a shrill, piping
+treble, "do I make myself sufficiently clear?"
+
+A sickly smile of abject acquiescence overspread the features of the now
+trembling Ministers. Their Chief noted it with a gloomy glare. Then with
+a furious gesture, he suddenly kicked a waste-paper basket into the air.
+"You may go!" he growled. They did not wait for a second permission.
+Swiftly, but obsequiously, they glided out of the room, and with traces
+of terror stamped on their blanched countenances, silently sought the
+little neighbouring Railway Station, and took the next train to London.
+
+       * * *
+
+That night the Premier sat up late. But his work, when he began it, did
+not take him long. Yet it was not unimportant, for the departing
+mail-bag carried a set of sealed orders for the Admiral in Command of
+the British Squadron in East African Waters, another Ultimatum to the
+Government of Portugal, a threatening communication to the Porte, and
+disturbing despatches, threatening to the peace of Europe, to the
+Governments of Russia, France, and Germany respectively. He laughed long
+and loud when he thought of their contents. Then he went to bed.
+
+       * * *
+
+Later on, his work bore fruit; and people then said that the Cabinet of
+the day must have been a strange one!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: HORRIBLE RESULT OF USING THE "EGYPTIAN FUR-TILISER."]
+
+"A cargo of 180,000 mummified Cats has just been landed at Liverpool, to
+be used as Manure."--_Daily Paper._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+ROBERT'S COMPANIONS.
+
+I'm a beginning for to think as we're rayther a rum lot in this werry
+strawnery world of ours. I've jest bin a collectin from sum of my
+brother Waiters sum of their little historys, as far as they remembers
+'em, and werry strange and werry warious sum on 'em is. There's one pore
+chap who's about as onest and as atentif a Waiter as I nos on anywheres,
+but you never, no never, ewer sees him smile, not ewen wen a ginerus old
+Deputy, or a new maid Alderman, gives him harf-a-crown! I've offen and
+offen tried to cheer him hup with a good old glass of ginerus port, wen
+sum reglar swells has bin a dining and has not emtied the bottels--as
+reel Gennelmen never does--but never quite suck-seeded, tho' he drank
+down his wine fast enuff and ewidently injoyed it quite as much as if
+he'd paid for it, praps jest a leetle bit more. So one day I wentured to
+arsk him how it was as he was allers as sollem as a Churchwarden at a
+Charity Sermon, or a Clown in summer time, and he told me as it was all
+causd by the suckemstances of his hurly life, which he had never been
+abel to shake off hisself, pore Fellar! tho' they was none of 'em his
+own fault, which they was as follers.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+To begin with. He was born on a Fryday, on the 1st of April, and amost
+all his days for years after seems to have been either Frydays or Fust
+of Aprils, sumtimes one, sumtimes tother, sumtimes both. He was the
+youngest of eleven children, and so made the family party consist of 13,
+always as we all knos a unlucky number, and he seemed to have been
+treeted as if it had bin his own fault, which in course it wasn't, not
+by no means, no more than it was his fault the having the Skarlet Fever
+on one Crismus Day, which he did to heverybody's disgust.
+
+He was afterwards told by his old Nuss BECKY that one speshal greevance
+of his pore mother was, that her youngest child being seven years old
+when BILLY was born, all the warious prepperashuns customary on such
+himportant occasions had been dun away with as useless, ewen to the
+customary gigantick Pincushon, so that in his case there was no "Welcum
+to the Little Stranger!" So long, too, as his oldest brother remained at
+tome, he was never allowed to set down to dinner with the rest of the
+famerly, because, in course, he made up the unlucky number, the werry
+nateral consequence being, that when his oldest brother suddenly took
+his departure from among 'em, poor little BILLY was werry severely
+flogged for setting down to dinner with a smiling countinghouse! Of
+course ewery time as his unfortnit Birthday came round he was made a
+April Fool of, all his six lovin Brothers jining in the sport, one arter
+the other, nearly all day long. When he went to school, ewerybody knowed
+of his afflickshun, and made a fool of him, hushers and all.
+
+After he growed up, his Father got him a plaice at a Lunatic Asylum, as
+being the most properest for his sollem natur; and there he remained for
+no less than five years!
+
+Then, on the other hand, there's old TOM, or rayther yung TOM, for he's
+one of them jolly chaps as never seems to get no older. Why he goes
+about a grinning away, and a chatting away, and a chaffing of old BILL,
+who's much younger than him, like anythink. So I naterally arsked him
+how he acounted for his good sperrits. And what was his arnser? Why,
+hurly training. His Father was a Comic Play Actor, and allers ready for
+a larf, and offen took yung TOM with him to the Theater till he becum
+quite a favrite with all the merry gals there, who used to pet him, and
+give him sweets, and teach him to say all sorts of funny things; and,
+when he was old enuff, he was promoted to the dignity of a full-blown
+Super, at 18 shillings a week, and all his close found. His grate
+differculty was in looking serious and keeping serious when serious
+bizziness was a going on; and on one occashun, when he was playing one
+of a band of sangwinerry ruffians, sumthink so took his fansy, that he
+not only bust into a loud larf hisself, but set all the rest of the
+sangwinerry ruffians a larfing too, and quite spiled all the effect of
+the scene. So he was bundled off neck and crop, and soon afterwards got
+a sitewashun as a Pleaceman, but, for the life of him, he never could
+keep hisself serious when he was before a Magistrate with a case; for if
+ennybody made a joke, or ennybody larfed, TOM set off a grinning with
+the best of 'em, and once axshally made a joke with his Worship; so of
+course off he was sent again, to find a rest for the soles of his feet,
+and a free play for his good sperrits, in the honnerabel capacity of a
+Waiter.
+
+ROBERT.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: PUNCH'S PARLIAMENTARY PUPPETS.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: ULTIMA RATIO.]
+
+_Small Rustic._ "YEOU CAN'T GO THAT WAY."
+
+_Stalwart Young Lady_ (_out Sketching_). "WHY NOT?"
+
+_Small Rustic._ "'CAUSE THERE'S--THERE'S HURDLES."
+
+_Stalwart Young Lady._ "BUT I CAN GET OVER HURDLES."
+
+_Small Rustic._ "AND THEN THERE'S THE BULL!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.
+
+EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M P.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+_House of Commons, Tuesday, February 11._--"How do you do, TOBY? A merry
+New Session and many of them."
+
+It was OLD MORALITY who spoke; his kindly face beamed on me; his
+friendly hand grasped mine. Walked up the floor together through the old
+familiar scene. Benches crowded, though a vacant seat here and there:
+HARTINGTON'S for example. Everybody sorry to hear he's been ill, and
+glad to think of him enjoying the sunlight of Monte Carlo. Grand Old Man
+more Grand and less Old than ever; just up from Oxford; passed very
+well, it is said. Comes into Parliament with every prospect of
+distinguishing himself; his maiden speech looked for with much interest.
+
+"I think I'll put it off for a month or two, TOBY," he said, blushing
+with the ingenuousness of youth. "You see I'm so fresh from college,
+that it would ill become me to plunge into public affairs. It's all very
+well for a young fellow like me to get up at the Union; but here it's
+different. You're very good to say that great things are expected of me;
+but, if you please, I'll keep in the background a bit. I'll feel my feet
+first, as they used to say in the nursery, in what seems only
+yesterweek."
+
+Very nice this of him. Wish all young fellows fresh from the University,
+even when they have taken honours, were equally modest.
+
+"Haven't seen you since we met at Greenlands' icy mountains in the
+Recess," OLD MORALITY said, continuing our conversation interrupted by
+the cheers that greeted our arrival. "You remember how bitterly cold the
+day was? Rather thought you hurried away. Wish you could have stayed to
+luncheon. We happened to have something succulent. However, you must
+come and dine in my room behind the SPEAKER'S Chair; AKERS-DOUGLAS will
+show you the way. We do it pretty snug there, I can tell you. What sort
+of a Session shall we have? Who can tell? Usual sort of thing, I
+suppose. We shall bring in a lot of Bills; Gentlemen opposite will talk
+some of them out; at Easter and Whitsuntide Recesses we shall squeeze a
+stage of some through, under pressure of the holidays; then three weeks
+in June and most of July will be wasted; and in August we'll suspend
+Standing Orders, and ram through everything we can. As for me, I shall
+endeavour to do my duty to the QUEEN, to the Country, and to the Members
+of this House, in whichever part they sit. Did you ever, dear TOBY,
+consider how a kettle boils? The water nearest to the fire is first
+heated, and (being heated) rises to the top. Its place is supplied by
+colder portions, which are heated in turn, and this interchange takes
+place till all the water is boiling hot. That is how we shall get
+through the Session. The Report of the Parnell Commission, being most
+heated, will rise to the top first. Then the Tithes Bill, Land Purchase,
+the Education question, and one or two other little matters will follow,
+till we're all in boiling water. Good-bye now; don't forget to come
+across AKERS-DOUGLAS about Eight o'Clock."
+
+_Business done._--Session opened.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+KILLING FOR A SHILLING.--Lord WOLSELEY (who seems to have read the
+regulations governing communications from soldiers to the Press in a
+very liberal spirit) has published an article on the British Army in the
+pages of an American Twelvepenny Magazine. The contribution is
+embellished with sketches of the costumes of TOMMY ATKINS and his
+predecessors. For the rest, some of the letterpress is sufficiently
+alarming to warrant "Our Only General" in assuming a title which he
+apparently appears to covet--that of a "Shilling Shocker!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+SOMETHING LIKE A DINNER.
+
+[Illustration: Vol au Vent.]
+
+Now that the Parliamentary Session has opened, and the Season threatens
+to set in with its usual severity, the dinner question comes prominently
+to the front. Even in the best-regulated households there is a sameness
+about dinner which, towards the end of the week, palls upon the
+appetite. Some ambitious young men have attempted to deal with the
+matter and surprise their guests by introducing cheese immediately after
+the soup (_soufflé au parmesan_), and after a cut of beef comes the fish
+(_turbot à la Russe_). That is well meant, but it is crude. _Mr. Punch_
+has given his great mind to the subject, and presents to the
+consideration of the dining world the following hints for a meal:--
+
+  Half-om-half.
+  Blauwe Landtongsche Oesters.
+  Hoog-Sauterneswijn.
+  Soepen.
+  Dikke Rivierkreeften Soep.     Volmaakte Soep in Van Dijk Stijl.
+  Amontillado.
+  Zuschotelles.
+  Selderij.  Olijven.  Radijs.  Haringen.  Poukenvorm gebakken
+  in Berg-op-Zoomsche Stijl.
+  Liebfraumilch.
+  Gekruide Gerechten.
+  Gestreepte Baars, Piet Hein Stijl.  Lambasteien met Zeeuwsche Saus.
+  Chateau Danzac.
+  Voorgerechten.
+  Hoenden Vleugels, met Haagsche Saus.
+  Heetkoudegemakten Ganzenlevers in Zwolsche Stijl.
+  Ruinart, wrang wijn, Bijzonder Perrier Jouet, Louis Roederer, wrang,
+  Giesler & Co., G. H. Mumm, buitengewoondroog.
+  Groenten.
+  Aardappelen in Sneeksche Stijl.
+  Doperwten, Fransche Stijl.
+  Gebakkene Kropsalade.
+  Sorbet, Anneke Jans.
+  Gebraad.
+  Kanefasrug Eendvogels.  Gekruide Seiderij-sla.
+  Richebourg.
+  Nagerecht.
+  Curacaogelei.  Italiaansche Ijs.  Edamsche Kaas.  Vruchten.
+  Gemonteerde Stukken.
+  Koffie.
+  Likeuren. Sigaren.
+  Pupen en Tabak.
+
+It may be objected that half-and-half, even when badly spelt, is a cold
+preparation for dinner; and others may take exception to _Poukenvorm_,
+as likely to have an earthy taste. But did they ever try it _gebakken in
+Berg-op-Zoomsche Stijl_? It is no use mincing matters. Let anyone in
+search of a good dinner enter any well-appointed _restaurant_, and order
+this _menu_ right through down to _Pupen en Tabak_ (which is not a
+preparation of dog's meat), and if they are not satisfied, _Mr. Punch_
+is a Dutchman.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"RICHARDSON'S SHOW" AND A "BILL OF THE PLAY."
+
+The Vaudeville, when it was opened, was devoted to all that was light
+and cheerful. Comedy and Burlesque went hand-in-hand, and the audience,
+if ever asked to weep, were begged to cry with laughter. But Mr. ROBERT
+BUCHANAN (with the assistance of the late Mr. RICHARDSON) "has changed
+all that." _Clarissa_, the present attraction at the little theatre on
+the North-side of the Strand, is a piece of the most doleful character.
+The First Act is devoted to a very heartless abduction, and the last to
+a lingering death and a fatal _duello_. When it is announced that the
+successful fencer who "kills his man" is no less a person than that
+excellent Comedian, Mr. THOMAS THORNE, it will be readily understood
+that "the New Drama" is the reverse of lively. _Clarissa_ has scarcely a
+laugh in it from beginning to end. Certainly, in the last Scene but one,
+there is a revel, in which "pseudo-Ladies of Fashion" take part, but the
+merriment with which it is spiced is decidedly ghastly. Miss WINIFRED
+EMERY is exceedingly clever, but her death-scene is painfully
+protracted. Mr. THALBERG, as _Lovelace_, is a sad dog in every sense--a
+very sad dog, indeed. The only incident in the piece ever likely to
+provoke a smile, is the appearance of some comic bearers of grotesque
+sedan-chairs. When _Clarissa_ is carried out _à la_ GUY FAUX at the end
+of the Second Act, there is certainly a moment's hesitation whether the
+audience should cry or laugh. But the sighs have it, and
+pocket-handkerchiefs remain to the front. On the occasion of the initial
+performance, some slight amusement was caused by the introduction of Mr.
+BUCHANAN in unconventional nineteenth century morning dress amongst the
+old-fashioned costumes of the company; but, of course, the slight
+amusement was for once and away, and could not advantageously be
+frequently repeated. Thus, take one thing with another, the life of the
+Vaudeville audiences at this moment cannot be truthfully described as a
+merry one.
+
+[Illustration: Something Lively at the Vaudeville.]
+
+At the Avenue quite a different story may be told. People who visit this
+pretty little house desirous of being moved even unto tears by that
+finest of _Fausts_, Mr. ALEXANDER, will be disappointed--they had far
+better stay at home, or go to see _Clarissa_. Mr. HAMILTON AÏDÉ has
+adapted from the French of CARRÉ (a case of fetch and carry) a Farcical
+Comedy in Three Acts, which _he_ calls _Dr. Bill_, in preference to _Dr.
+Jojo_ the Gallic original. The prescription from which the Doctor
+concocts his mixture might have been supplied by the Criterion. Mr.
+FREDERICK TERRY plays a part that would have suited Mr. WYNDHAM down to
+the ground, and Mr. CHEVALIER is continually suggesting the
+peculiarities of Mr. MALTBY. Miss FANNY BROUGH is Miss FANNY BROUGH,
+which means that no one could play the part so well, much less better.
+For the rest, the company (although a new one) work together with a "go"
+that carries all before it. ALEXANDER has certainly conquered the
+world--of Comedy. He may do less wise things if he rests satisfied, and
+leaves Tragedy alone for an indefinitely lengthened period.
+
+  SERJEANT COX, ON BEHALF OF PRIVATE BOX.
+
+P.S.--Mr. JEROME'S new piece (which he describes as "comparatively
+speaking, new and original"), just produced at Terry's Theatre, is
+rather disappointing. Its title of _New Lamps for Old_ strongly
+suggests a "Night's Entertainment." But when the poverty of the plot and
+the quality of the dialogue are taken into consideration, it would be
+almost too much to say that this pleasant idea is fully realised by the
+evening's performances. It must be confessed, however, that Mr. PENLEY,
+rising and descending in a dinner-lift, is (at first) funny; and Miss
+CISSY GRAHAME is ever welcome.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: Making up Dr. Bill's Prescription.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+    NOTICE.--Rejected Communications or Contributions, whether MS.,
+    Printed Matter, Drawings, or Pictures of any description, will in no
+    case be returned, not even when accompanied by Stamped and Addressed
+    Envelope, Cover, or Wrapper. To this rule there will be no
+    exception.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol.
+98 February 15, 1890, by Various
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, CHARIVARI, FEB 15, 1890 ***
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