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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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+ .poem1 p.i2 {margin-left: 1em;}
+ .poem1 p.i4 {margin-left: 2em;}
+ .poem1 p.i6 {margin-left: 3em;}
+ .poem1 p.i8 {margin-left: 4em;}
+ .poem1 p.i10 {margin-left: 5em;}
+
+ .direction {margin-left:30%; text-indent:-2em;}
+
+ .figure, .figcenter, .figright, .figleft
+ {padding: 1em; margin: 0; text-align: center; font-size: 0.8em;}
+ .figure img, .figcenter img, .figright img, .figleft img
+ {border: none;}
+ .figure p, .figcenter p, .figright p, .figleft p
+ {margin: 0; text-indent: 1em;}
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+ .figleft {float: left; width: auto; margin: 1em; padding: 0;}
+
+ .img {margin: 0; padding-right: 0;}
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+
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+
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+</head>
+<body>
+
+
+<pre>
+
+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
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<h1>PUNCH,<br />
+
+OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.</h1>
+
+<h2>VOLUME 98</h2>
+
+<hr class="full" />
+
+<h2>FEBRUARY 15, 1890.</h2>
+
+<hr class="full" />
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span>
+
+<h2>UNTILED; OR, THE MODERN ASMODEUS.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><p>"Très volontiers," repartit le d&eacute;mon. "Vous aimez les tableaux
+changeans: je veux vous contenter."</p>
+
+<p><i>Le Diable Boiteux.</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 60%">
+<a href="images/073a.png">
+<img src="images/073a.png" width="100%" alt="Cartoon" /></a>
+</div><br />
+
+<hr class="short" /><br />
+
+<center>XX.</center>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<p class="i0">Sweet odours, radiant colours, glittering light!</p>
+<p class="i0">How swift a change from the dusk sodden night</p>
+<p class="i2">Of London in mid-winter!</p>
+<p class="i0"><i>Titania</i> here might revel as at home;</p>
+<p class="i0">Fair forms are floating soft as Paphian foam,</p>
+<p class="i2">Bright as an iceberg-splinter.</p>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<p class="i0">Dianas doubtless, yet their frost holds fire;</p>
+<p class="i0">The snowiest bosom covers soft desire,</p>
+<p class="i2">And these are snowy, verily.</p>
+<p class="i0">As blanched&mdash;and bare&mdash;as Himalaya's peaks,</p>
+<p class="i0">Light-vestured as a troop of dancing Greeks.</p>
+<p class="i2">Waltz-measures ripple merrily.</p>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<p class="i0">Merrily? Yes; the music throbs with mirth,</p>
+<p class="i0">Feet trip in time to it; yet what strange dearth</p>
+<p class="i2">Of glee midst all these graces!</p>
+<p class="i0">The quickening fire of spirit, passion, will,</p>
+<p class="i0">Seems scarce to move these dancing forms or thrill</p>
+<p class="i2">These irresponsive faces.</p>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<p class="i0">The Shadow smiled. "True, yet not true," he said.</p>
+<p class="i0">"Good Form demands that men should look half dead,</p>
+<p class="i2">And women semi-frozen.</p>
+<p class="i0">Yet Nature lives beneath these modish masks</p>
+<p class="i0">Somewhere, sometimes, with energy that tasks</p>
+<p class="i2">Caste's rigid rule to cozen.</p>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<p class="i0">"Pygmalion's prayer breathed life into the stone,</p>
+<p class="i0">But see yon graceful girl, with straitened zone</p>
+<p class="i2">And statuesque still bearing.</p>
+<p class="i0">You'd say in her the marble must invade</p>
+<p class="i0">The flesh, in so much loveliness arrayed,</p>
+<p class="i2">Such radiant raiment wearing.</p>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<p class="i0">"Whirled in the waltz's formal maze by one</p>
+<p class="i0">Who might be a broad-cloth'd automaton,</p>
+<p class="i2">For any show of pleasure,</p>
+<p class="i0">She moves with drooping lids, and lips apart,</p>
+<p class="i0">And scarce a flush to show that a young heart</p>
+<p class="i2">Throbs to the pulsing measure."</p>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<p class="i0">"Men meet to moon, and women whirl to wed,</p>
+<p class="i0">The cynic says. Is joy in life quite dead,</p>
+<p class="i2">Gladness in concourse banished</p>
+<p class="i0">From the parades of fashionable youth?</p>
+<p class="i0">Have maiden tenderness and manly truth</p>
+<p class="i2">From Vanity Fair quite vanished?"</p>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<p class="i0">"Soft!" sneered the Shadow. "Questionings like these</p>
+<p class="i0">Sound <i>gauche</i> and gushing. Better far to freeze</p>
+<p class="i2">To the right social zero,</p>
+<p class="i0">Than stoop to zeal and frank display of zest,</p>
+<p class="i0">Notes of the vulgar glories that invest</p>
+<p class="i2">The housemaid-novel's hero.</p>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<p class="i0">"Nothing more useful than the surface-ice</p>
+<p class="i0">Of stiff stolidity. Vigour, aye, and vice,</p>
+<p class="i2">Therein find ready covert.</p>
+<p class="i0">Wickedness here may lurk, or even wit.</p>
+<p class="i0">Not to name happiness; but naught of it</p>
+<p class="i2">Is obvious and overt.</p>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<p class="i0">"How bored they look, the slim stiff-collared boys!</p>
+<p class="i0">Energy that is eager and enjoys</p>
+<p class="i2">They may anon make show of</p>
+<p class="i0">In some less honest haunt; here as in pain</p>
+<p class="i0">They creak and crawl, devoid of that <i>sans g&ecirc;ne</i></p>
+<p class="i2">That virtue seems sworn foe of.</p>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<p class="i0">"Languidly circumvolving, lounging lank,</p>
+<p class="i0">In scuffling circle or in mural rank,</p>
+<p class="i2">Of misery mechanic</p>
+<p class="i0">They look the wooden symbols; nought to show</p>
+<p class="i0">That even well-starched linen's sheeny snow</p>
+<p class="i2">Veils impulses volcanic.</p>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<p class="i0">"That straight-limb'd son of Anak circling there</p>
+<p class="i0">Much like a whirling semaphore, strange care</p>
+<p class="i2">His boyish forehead wrinkling?</p>
+<p class="i0">The season's catch! His sire, is great in Soap,</p>
+<p class="i0">His partner's mother yonder sits; with hope</p>
+<p class="i2">Her watchful eyes are twinkling.</p>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<p class="i0">"The twirling twain are silent. Silence sits</p>
+<p class="i0">Lord of the revel, incubus of wits</p>
+<p class="i2">Arch palsier of prattle</p>
+<p class="i0">Yet many a girl here mute's a chatterer sweet,</p>
+<p class="i0">And many a youth in circles less discrete</p>
+<p class="i2">Is an 'agreeable rattle.'</p>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<p class="i0">"Respectability's austere restraint</p>
+<p class="i0">Rules them relentlessly; smiles forced and faint</p>
+<p class="i2">And joyless facial spasms</p>
+<p class="i0">Their meetings and their mutterings attend.</p>
+<p class="i0">Jerky approximations quickly end</p>
+<p class="i2">In void unvocal chasms.</p>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<p class="i0">"Yet still they circle, and yet still they loll.</p>
+<p class="i0">A marionette wooing a wooden doll</p>
+<p class="i2">Would look more animated</p>
+<p class="i0">Than yonder pair, revolving interlaced,</p>
+<p class="i0">Exchanging commonplaces leaden-paced,</p>
+<p class="i2">Or repartees belated."</p>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<p class="i0">"Mammon by day and maundering at night</p>
+<p class="i0">Oh, Shade!" I cried, "can furnish scant delight,</p>
+<p class="i2">The Race for Wealth is rapid.</p>
+<p class="i0">How can the feverish rush find true relief</p>
+<p class="i0">In heartless intercourse, as bald as brief,</p>
+<p class="i2">Amusement vain as vapid?"</p>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<p class="i0">"Amusement? Intercourse? They scarce exist."</p>
+<p class="i0">The Shadow answered. "Some B&oelig;otian mist</p>
+<p class="i2">Society blinds and muddles.</p>
+<p class="i0">True recreation in this joyless round?</p>
+<p class="i0">The sea's bright changefulness as soon were found</p>
+<p class="i2">In Pedlington's rain-puddles.</p>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<p class="i0">"The cliques and coteries know not how to mix.</p>
+<p class="i0">A barrier more impassable than Styx</p>
+<p class="i2">Is Philistine stupidity.</p>
+<p class="i0">Were mutual amusement meeting's aim,</p>
+<p class="i0">Mind <i>must</i> move maidenhood inert and tame,</p>
+<p class="i2">Melt masculine rigidity.</p>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<p class="i0">"Concourse, not intercourse, is what you see:</p>
+<p class="i0">To mix, and sympathise, and to be free,</p>
+<p class="i2">Is the true sociality.</p>
+<p class="i0">These meet, like marbles mingled in a bag,</p>
+<p class="i2">And the net outcome, friend, is friction, fag,</p>
+<p class="i0">Boredom, and sheer banality.</p>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<p class="i0">"The strongest symptom of quick life crops out</p>
+<p class="i0">In watchful mutual mockery. Gibe and flout</p>
+<p class="i2">In low asides flow freely.</p>
+<p class="i0">Oh, bland elysium for the brave and fair,</p>
+<p class="i0">Whose pleasures are the snigger and the stare,</p>
+<p class="i2">Chill snub, and eye-glance steely!</p>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<p class="i0">"Prigdom's Philistia, though a polished State,</p>
+<p class="i0">Has not yet learned quite how to recreate.</p>
+<p class="i2">Gath in the ball-room gathers,</p>
+<p class="i0">Askelon haunts 'At homes,' but little joy</p>
+<p class="i0">Bring they to man or matron, girl or boy,</p>
+<p class="i2">To swells or City-fathers."</p>
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="author">(<i>To be continued</i>.)</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2>AU REVOIR!</h2>
+
+<p>Mr. <span class="smcap">Punch</span> <i>and</i> Mr. <span class="smcap">J. L. Toole</span> <i>discovered smoking a last cigar</i>.</p>
+
+<p><i>Mr. P.</i> And so, my dear <span class="smcap">Johnnie</span>, you are leaving us at once?</p>
+
+<p><i>Mr. J. L. T.</i> 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.</p>
+
+<p><i>Mr. P.</i> I have no doubt they have been a little trying&mdash;eh, <span class="smcap">Johnnie</span>?</p>
+
+<p><i>Mr. J. L. T.</i> And yet, as I have observed in the <i>Upper Crust</i>, "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?</p>
+
+<p><i>Mr. P.</i> I heard the first, and read a report of the second, and can
+conscientiously declare they were equally good.</p>
+
+<p><i>Mr. J. L. T.</i> I am glad to hear you say so, Sir. I confess I didn't
+think there was <i>much</i> to choose between them. And now (<i>with deep
+emotion</i>), will you excuse my glove?</p>
+
+<p><i>Mr. P.</i> No; I won't say good-bye; for wherever you may roam, my dear
+<span class="smcap">Johnnie</span>, you will have this consolation&mdash;you will find me there before
+you!</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 40%">
+<a href="images/073b.png">
+<img src="images/073b.png" width="100%" alt="There is now a strong impression" /></a>
+<p>"There is now a strong impression that the Money Market
+has at last tided over the period of tightness."&mdash;<i>Daily News</i>, Feb. 4.</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span>
+
+<h4>THE IMPERIAL SOCIALIST.</h4>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 60%">
+<a href="images/074.png">
+<img src="images/074.png" width="100%" alt="THE IMPERIAL SOCIALIST" /></a>
+<h3><i>A Song of a Strange Development.</i></h3>
+</div>
+<div class="poem1"><div class="stanza">
+<p class="i0">Will you walk into my Congress? says the Emperor unto Labour;</p>
+<p class="i0">Tis the nicest little Congress; I'm inviting many a neighbour.</p>
+<p class="i0">The way into my Congress by this Rescript I prepare,</p>
+<p class="i0">And we shall have some curious things to show you&mdash;when you're there.</p>
+<p class="i4">Then won't you, won't you, little International Working-Man?</p>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<p class="i0">We've already done a little to improve poor Labour's lot,</p>
+<p class="i0">Shorten its hours, insure its life, and help to fill its pot.</p>
+<p class="i0">But the poorer and the weaker yet fall short of the reality</p>
+<p class="i0">Of "conformity to the principles of Chris-ti-an morality."</p>
+<p class="i4">Then won't you, &amp;c.</p>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<p class="i0">'Tis one of the State's duties, friends, to regulate the time,</p>
+<p class="i0">The duration and the nature of your work,&mdash;a task sublime;</p>
+<p class="i0">And you'll find we'll do it better, if you only won't resist,</p>
+<p class="i0">Than that most obnoxious personage, the shouting Socialist.</p>
+<p class="i4">Then won't you, &amp;c.</p>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<p class="i0">I'm an Emperor by profession, but I have my little plan</p>
+<p class="i0">For improving the position of the German Working-man.</p>
+<p class="i0">But the International Question stands a little in the way,</p>
+<p class="i0">So I've asked the Nations to convene&mdash;I only hope they may.</p>
+<p class="i4">Then won't you, &amp;c.</p>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<p class="i0">And when they get together they will do&mdash;well, we shall see;</p>
+<p class="i0">But the Socialists shan't have <i>all</i> their own way with Industry.</p>
+<p class="i0"><i>I</i> recognise the justice of the Workmen's aspirations,</p>
+<p class="i0">And upon their wants and wishes I would start "negotiations."</p>
+<p class="i4">Then won't you, &amp;c.</p>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<p class="i0">Oh, I know my plan will bring up all the fogies in full blast,</p>
+<p class="i0">And Coercion and Protection I see looking on aghast.</p>
+<p class="i0">But I'm game to turn deaf ear to them, if <i>you</i> will only list,</p>
+<p class="i0">To that latest, strangest birth of time, the Imperial Socialist!</p>
+<p class="i4">Then won't you, &amp;c.</p>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span>
+
+<h2>HOW TO MAKE THE MOST OF IT.</h2>
+
+<h4><i>Hints from the Chancellor of the Exchequer's correspondence.</i></h4>
+
+<p>Sir,&mdash;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 fa&ccedil;ade 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,</p>
+
+<p class="author"><span class="smcap">A Full Blown London County Councillor</span>.</p>
+
+<p>Sir,&mdash;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 <i>the</i> 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 <i>farthing postage</i>&mdash;mind, not a
+<i>penny</i>, but a <span class="smcap">Farthing Postage</span>! 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</p>
+
+<p class="author"><span class="smcap">A Circumspect and Cautious Parent</span>.</p>
+
+<p>Sir,&mdash;Have you read Lord <span class="smcap">Wolseley</span>'s article in this month's <i>Harper</i>? He
+advises a higher rate of pay for the rank and file of the British Army?
+<i>Verbum sap.</i> You understand. It is clear what you must do with your
+surplus. Ensure <span class="smcap">Tommy Atkins</span> 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</p>
+
+<p class="author"><span class="smcap">A Sanguine and Expectant Private</span>.</p>
+
+<p>Sir,&mdash;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.</p>
+
+<p>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,</p>
+
+<p class="author"><span class="smcap">The Latest Teacher of the Young Idea</span>.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 50%">
+<a href="images/075a.png">
+<img src="images/075a.png" width="100%" alt="A DIAGNOSIS." /></a>
+<h4>A DIAGNOSIS.</h4>
+<p>"<span class="smcap">It says 'ere, as your old Boss, Colonel M'Whuskey, has been took
+ill."&mdash;"Ah! so I 'erd!"&mdash;"Russian Epidemic?"&mdash;"No,&mdash;Scotch</span>."</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2>OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.</h2>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 25%">
+<a href="images/075b.png">
+<img src="images/075b.png" width="100%" alt="Book Markers" /></a>
+<h4>Book Markers.</h4>
+</div>
+<p>"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 <i>A Window
+in Thrums</i> 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
+<i>they</i> would like it. And as I read aloud, this book,&mdash;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,"&mdash;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 <i>A Window in
+Thrums</i>. The <span class="smcap">Baron de Book-Worms</span> is grateful to Mr. <span class="smcap">J. M. Barrie</span>; and
+when an opportunity is offered him, he is seriously thinking of
+re-reading some of the Scotchiest of Sir <span class="smcap">Walter Scott's</span> Novels, and
+having a "Nicht or twa wi' <span class="smcap">Robbie Burns</span>."</p>
+
+<p>I await the Reminiscences of Mr. <span class="smcap">Montagu Williams</span>, Q.C. and P.M., with
+considerable interest.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. <span class="smcap">Keith Fleming's</span> romance, <i>Can such Things be? or, the Weird of the
+Beresfords</i>,&mdash;no relation to Lord <span class="smcap">Charles</span> of that ilk,&mdash;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<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> 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 <i>The Weird</i>
+been condensed like milk in tins, or essenced like Liebig, and been
+presented to the public as a story in two numbers of <i>Blackwood</i> (always
+such an appropriate title for a Magazine full of mysterious
+stories,&mdash;<span class="smcap">Black Wood</span> so like Black Forest) or <i>Macmillan</i>, or <i>Cornhill</i>
+(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. <span class="smcap">Baron de Book-worms.</span></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2>MR PUNCHS MORAL MUSIC-HALL DRAMAS</h2>
+
+<p>Our present Drama (No. VI.) represents an attempt to illustrate upon the
+Music-hall Stage the eternal truth that race <i>will</i> tell in the long
+run, despite&mdash;but, on second thoughts, it does not <i>quite</i> prove that,
+though it certainly shows the unerring accuracy of parental&mdash;at least,
+that is not exactly its tendency, either; and the fact is that <i>Mr.
+Punch</i> 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.</p>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<h3>COMING OF AGE</h3>
+
+<center><i>A Grand Social Psychological Comedy-Drama, in One Act.</i></center>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Dramatis Person&aelig;.</span></h4>
+
+<p>
+<i>The Earl of Burntalmond.</i><br /><br />
+<i>The Countess of Burntalmond</i> (<i>his wife</i>).<br /><br />
+<i>Robert Henry Viscount Bullsaye</i> (<i>their son and heir</i>).<br /><br />
+<i>The Lady Rose Caramel</i> (<i>niece to the Earl</i>).<br /><br />
+<i>Horehound.</i>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;} (<i>Travelling as "The Celebrated Combination</i><br />
+<i>Mrs. Horehound.</i>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;} <i>Korffdropp Troupe," in their refined and</i><br />
+<i>Coltsfoot Horehound.</i>&nbsp;&nbsp;} <i>elegant Drawing-room Entertainment.</i>)<br /><br />
+<i>Tenantry.</i><br />
+</p>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 30%">
+<a href="images/076.png">
+<img src="images/076.png" width="100%" alt="Cartoon" /></a>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Scene</span>&mdash;<i>The Great Quadrangle of Hardbake Castle; banners, mottoes,
+decorations, &amp;c. On the steps, <span class="smcap">R.</span>, 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</i>.</p>
+
+<p><i>The Earl (patting</i> Lord <span class="smcap">Bullsaye's</span> <i>shoulder).</i> I might say more,
+Gentlemen, in praise of my dear son, Lord <span class="smcap">Bullsaye</span>, here&mdash;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&mdash;but I forbear. I will merely announce that on this day&mdash;the day he
+has selected for attaining his majority&mdash;he has gratified us all by
+plighting troth to his cousin, the Lady <span class="smcap">Rose Caramel</span>, with whose dulcet
+and clinging disposition he has always possessed the greatest natural
+affinity.</p>
+
+<p class="author">[<i>Cheers.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>Lord Bullsaye</i> (<i>aside to</i> Lady R.). Ah, <span class="smcap">Rose</span>, would such happiness
+could last! But my heart misgives me strangely&mdash;why, I know not.</p>
+
+<p><i>Lady R.</i> Say not so, dear <span class="smcap">Bullsaye</span>&mdash;have you not just rendered me the
+happiest little Patrician in the whole peerage?</p>
+
+<p><i>Lord B.</i> 'Tis true&mdash;and yet, and yet&mdash;pooh, let me snatch the present
+hour!</p>
+
+<p class="direction">[<i>Snatches it.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>The Earl.</i> And now, let the Revels commence.</p>
+
+<p><i>Enter the</i> Korffdropp Troupe, <i>who give their marvellous Entertainment,
+entitled, "The Three Surprise Packets;" after which&mdash;</i></p>
+
+<p><i>Horehound.</i> 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.</p>
+
+<p class="direction">[<i>Exit</i> Mrs. <span class="smcap">Horehound</span>.</p>
+
+<p><i>The Earl</i> (<i>graciously</i>). I will hear you, fellow! (<i>Aside.</i>) Strange
+how familiar his features seem to me!</p>
+
+<p><i>Horeh.</i> The fact is, your Lordship's celebrating the coming of hage of
+the <i>wrong heir</i>. (<i>Sensation&mdash;i.e., the six tenantry shift from one leg
+to the other, and murmur feebly.</i>) Oh, I can prove it. Twenty-one years
+ago&mdash;(<i>slow music</i>)&mdash;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&mdash;(<i>tells a long, and not entirely original, story;
+marvellous resemblance between infants, only distinguishable by green
+and magenta bows, &amp;c., &amp;c.</i>) Soon after, your Lordship discharged me at
+a moment's notice&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><i>The Earl</i> (<i>haughtily</i>). 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.</p>
+
+<p><i>Horeh.</i> I swore to be avenged, and so&mdash;(<i>common form again; the shifted
+bows</i>)&mdash;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&mdash;(<i>presenting</i> <span class="smcap">Coltsfoot</span>, <i>who advances
+modestly on his hands</i>)&mdash;'ere!</p>
+
+<p class="direction">[<i>Renewed sensation.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>The Earl.</i> This is indeed a startling piece of intelligence. (<i>To</i> Lord
+B.) And so, Sir, it appears that your whole life has been one consistent
+imposition&mdash;a gilded <i>lie</i>?</p>
+
+<p><i>Lord B.</i> Let my youth and inexperience at the time, Sir, plead as my
+best excuse!</p>
+
+<p><i>The E.</i> Nothing can excuse the fact that you&mdash;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. (<i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Coltsfoot</span>.)
+Approach, my injured, long-lost boy, and tell me how I may atone for
+these years of injustice and neglect!</p>
+
+<p><i>Coltsf.</i> Well, Guv'nor, if you could send out for a pot o' four arf, it
+'ud be a <i>beginning</i>, like.</p>
+
+<p><i>The E.</i> You shall have every luxury that befits your rank, but first
+remove that incongruous garb.</p>
+
+<p><i>Colts</i>, (<i>to</i> Lord B.). These 'ere togs belong to <i>you</i> now, young
+feller, and I reckon exchange ain't no robbery.</p>
+
+<p><i>Lord B.</i> (<i>with emotion, to</i> Countess). Mother, can you endure to
+behold your son in tights and spangles on the very day of his majority?</p>
+
+<p><i>Countess</i> (<i>coldly</i>). On the contrary, it is my wish to see him attired
+as soon as possible, in a more appropriate costume.</p>
+
+<p><i>Lord B.</i> (<i>to</i> Lady R.). <span class="smcap">Rose</span>, <i>you</i>, at least, have not changed? Tell
+me you will love me still&mdash;even on the precarious summit of an acrobat's
+pole!</p>
+
+<p><i>Lady Rose</i> (<i>scornfully</i>). Really the presumptuous familiarity of the
+lower orders is perfectly appalling!</p>
+
+<p><i>The Earl</i> (<i>to</i> Countess, <i>as</i> Lord B. <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Coltsfoot</span> <i>retire to
+exchange costumes</i>). At last, <span class="smcap">Pauline</span>, I understand why I could never
+feel towards <span class="smcap">Bullsaye</span> the affection of a parent. Often have I reproached
+myself for a coldness I could not overcome.</p>
+
+<p><i>Countess.</i> And I too! Nature was too strong for us. But, oh, the joy of
+recovering our son&mdash;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!</p>
+
+<p><i>The E.</i> (<i>with emotion</i>). Our beloved, boneless boy!</p>
+
+<p class="direction">[<i>Re-enter</i> <span class="smcap">Coltsfoot</span> <i>in modern dress, and</i> Lord B. <i>in tights</i>.<br />
+</p>
+
+<p><i>Colts.</i> Don't I look slap-up&mdash;O.K. and no mistake? Oh, I <i>am</i> 'aving a
+beano!</p>
+
+<p><i>All.</i> What easy gaiety, and unforced animation!</p>
+
+<p><i>The E.</i> My dear boy, let me present you to your <i>fianc&eacute;e</i>. <span class="smcap">Rose</span>, my
+love, this is your <i>legitimate</i> lover.</p>
+
+<p><i>Colts.</i> Oh, all right, <i>I've</i> no objections&mdash;on'y there'll be ructions
+with the young woman in the tight-rope line as I've been keepin' comp'ny
+with&mdash;that's all!</p>
+
+<p><i>The E.</i> Your foster-brother will act as your substitute there.
+(<i>Proudly.</i>) <i>My</i> son must make no <i>m&eacute;salliance</i>!</p>
+
+<p><i>Rose</i> (<i>timidly</i>). And, if it would give you any pleasure, I'm sure I
+could soon learn the tight-rope!</p>
+
+<p><i>Colts.</i> Not at <i>your</i> time o' life. Miss, and besides, 'ang it, now I'm
+a lord, I can't have my wife doin' nothing low!</p>
+
+<p><i>The E.</i> Spoken like a true <span class="smcap">Burntalmond</span>! And now let the revels
+re-commence.</p>
+
+<p class="direction">[<i>Re-enter</i> Mrs. <span class="smcap">Horehound</span>.</p>
+
+<p><i>Horeh.</i> (<i>to</i> Lord B.). Now then, stoopid, tumble, can't you&mdash;what are
+you 'ere <i>for</i>?</p>
+
+<p><i>Lord B.</i> (<i>to the</i> Earl). Since it is your command, I obey, though it
+is ill tumbling with a heavy heart!</p>
+
+<p class="direction">[<i>Turns head over heels laboriously</i>.<br /></p>
+
+<p><i>Colts.</i> Call that a somersault? 'Ere, 'old my 'at (<i>giving tall hat to</i>
+Lady R.) <i>I'll</i> show yer 'ow to do a turn.</p>
+
+<p class="direction">[<i>Throws a triple somersault</i>.<br />
+</p>
+
+<p><i>All.</i> What condescension! How his aristocratic superiority is betrayed,
+even in competition with those to the manner born!</p>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. Horeh.</i> (<i>still in ignorance of the transformation</i>) Halt! I have
+kept silence till now&mdash;even from my husband, but the time has come when
+I <i>must</i> speak. Think you that if he were indeed a lord, he could turn
+such somersaults as those? No&mdash;no. I will reveal all. (<i>Tells same old
+story&mdash;except that she herself from ambitious motives transposed the
+infants' bows.</i>) Now, do with me what you will!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><i>Horeh.</i> Confusion, so my ill-judged action did but redress the wrong I
+designed to effect!</p>
+
+<p><i>The E.</i> (<i>annoyed</i>). 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?</p>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. H.</i> None, my lord,&mdash;but these&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="direction">[<i>Exhibits two faded bunches of ribbon.</i><br />
+</p>
+
+<p><i>The E.</i> I cannot resist such overwhelming evidence, fight against it as
+I may.</p>
+
+<p><i>Lord B.</i> (<i>triumphantly</i>). And so&mdash;oh, Father, Mother, <span class="smcap">Rose</span>&mdash;dear, dear
+<span class="smcap">Rose</span>&mdash;I am no acrobat after all!</p>
+
+<p><i>The E.</i> (<i>sternly</i>). 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&mdash;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 <i>you</i>, 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, <span class="smcap">Robert Henry</span>, that you treat your foster-brother as your
+senior in future!</p>
+
+<p><i>Coltsf.</i> (<i>to</i> Lord B). Way-oh, ole matey, I don't bear no malice, <i>I</i>
+don't! Give us your dooks.</p>
+
+<p class="direction">[<i>Offering hand.</i></p>
+
+<p><i>The C.</i> Ah, <span class="smcap">Bullsaye</span>, try to be worthy of such generosity!</p>
+
+<p class="direction">[Lord B. <i>grasps</i> <span class="smcap">Coltsfoot's</span> <i>hand in silence</i>.<br />
+</p>
+
+<p><i>Lady Rose</i>. And pray, understand that, whether Mr. <span class="smcap">Coltsfoot</span> be
+viscount or acrobat, it can make no difference whatever to the
+disinterested affection with which I have lately learnt to regard him.</p>
+
+<p class="direction">[<i>Gives her hand to</i> <span class="smcap">Coltsfoot</span>, <i>who squeezes it with ardour</i>.<br />
+</p>
+
+<p><i>Coltsf.</i> (<i>pleasantly</i>). Well, Father, Mother, your noble Herlship and
+Lady, foster-brother <span class="smcap">Bullsaye</span>, 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?</p>
+
+<p><i>The E.</i> A most sensible suggestion, my boy. Let us make these ancient
+walls the scene of the blithest&mdash;ahem!&mdash;<i>beano</i> they have ever yet
+beheld!</p>
+
+<p class="direction">[<i>Cheers from Tenantry, as the</i> Earl <i>leads the way into the Castle
+with</i> Mrs. <span class="smcap">Horehound</span>, <i>followed by</i> <span class="smcap">Horehound</span> <i>with the Countess
+and</i> <span class="smcap">Coltsfoot</span> <i>with</i> Lady <span class="smcap">Rose</span>, Lord <span class="smcap">Bullsaye</span>, <i>discomfited and
+abashed, entering last as Curtain falls</i>.]</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2>KICKED!</h2>
+
+<center>(<i>By the Foot of Clara Groomley.</i>)</center><br />
+
+<center><span class="smcap">Chapter IV. and Last.</span></center>
+
+<p>In the little sitting-room above his shop sat Mr. <span class="smcap">Assid Ropes</span>. 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."</p>
+
+<p>Yet, when a customer rapped on the floor below, Mr. <span class="smcap">Ropes</span> felt
+exceedingly angry.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you want?" he called down the stairs.</p>
+
+<p>"I want my hat ironed," said a clear, manly voice.</p>
+
+<p>"Go away! Your hat doesn't want ironing. Go to bed!"</p>
+
+<p>"I will not go away," said the clear, firm voice, "until you have
+attended to my hat&mdash;hat once, if you please."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. <span class="smcap">Ropes</span> 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.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear old friend, <span class="smcap">Cyril Mush</span>!" he exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>They had been boys together at Eton, and rowed in the Trinity boat
+together at Cambridge. Fate had separated them.</p>
+
+<p>In less than a minute they were talking over old times together in the
+little sitting-room over the shop. <span class="smcap">Cyril Mush</span> was delighted. "You can't
+charge an old friend anything for just ironing his hat," he said, with
+his peculiarly winning smile.</p>
+
+<p>Before Mr. <span class="smcap">Ropes</span> could correct this impression, another voice was heard
+in the shop below.</p>
+
+<p>"Can you come down for a minute&mdash;to oblige a lady?"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. <span class="smcap">Ropes</span> descended once more. In a minute he returned.</p>
+
+<p>"Awfully sorry, <span class="smcap">Mush</span>, 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&mdash;<i>noblesse oblige</i>, you know. I'll finish your hat when I come
+back."</p>
+
+<p>In a second he was gone. <span class="smcap">Cyril Mush</span> 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. <span class="smcap">Assid Ropes</span> had gone to shave. Could it be
+the same? No, most certainly not. So of course it was the same.</p>
+
+<p>In the meanwhile Mr. <span class="smcap">Ropes</span> 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.</p>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 30%">
+<a href="images/077.png">
+<img src="images/077.png" width="100%" alt="Cartoon" /></a>
+</div>
+
+<p>"Very sorry, Sir," said Mr. <span class="smcap">Ropes</span>, 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."</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<p>"The dog <i>is</i> 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."</p>
+
+<p>"I've been shaving it&mdash;and that's how I know."</p>
+
+<p>A door opened on the other side of the passage, and a fair young girl
+came out in tears and a black dress.</p>
+
+<p>"What's the matter, <span class="smcap">Algernon</span>?" she said.</p>
+
+<p>"It's nothing, <span class="smcap">Alice</span>. This idiot says that <i>Tommy's</i> not dead."</p>
+
+<p>With one wild yell of joy, a yell that broke the gas-globes, and
+unlinked carriages at all the principal London railway stations, <span class="smcap">Alice
+Smith</span> fell senseless on the floor.</p>
+
+<p>"Out you get!" exclaimed her cousin <span class="smcap">Algernon</span> to Mr. <span class="smcap">Ropes</span>. "If the dog
+is not dead, come back in two hours, and <i>prove</i> it&mdash;otherwise it will
+be dead, and stuffed too."</p>
+
+<p>"Now then," said <span class="smcap">Algernon</span>, when Mr. <span class="smcap">Ropes</span> had gone, "if <i>Tommy Atkins</i>
+is not dead, he soon will be." He grasped his walking-stick, and tried
+the door of the room. It was locked. Mr. <span class="smcap">Ropes</span> had locked it, and taken
+the key!</p>
+
+<p>"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."</p>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<p>One hour had passed. Mr. <span class="smcap">Alkaloid</span>, the photographer, had met Mr. <span class="smcap">Mush</span>.
+Mr. <span class="smcap">Alkaloid</span> had come from Ryde to London to get his hair singed. The
+two accidentally met Mr. <span class="smcap">Ropes</span> as he was dashing wildly down the street
+towards his own shop. In one minute all was explained. Mr. <span class="smcap">Alkaloid</span> 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 <span class="smcap">Alkaloid</span>. "If that dog's alive, he'll
+wag his tail when I try to photograph him. I never knew it fail."</p>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<p>Outside the door of that gorgeously-furnished room stood an excited
+group. <span class="smcap">Algernon</span>, the villain, was soliloquising. <span class="smcap">Alice</span> was explaining to
+<span class="smcap">Cyril</span> how he had dropped his note down the neck of the wrong girl&mdash;who
+was also named <span class="smcap">Smith</span>&mdash;and how she had been compelled to believe him
+unfaithful. Mr. <span class="smcap">Ropes</span> was listening attentively at the key-hole, and
+<span class="smcap">Cyril</span> was kissing <span class="smcap">Alice</span>.</p>
+
+<p>Within the room Mr. <span class="smcap">Alkaloid</span> was photographing the dead poodle. (I call
+it dead, but of course that doesn't humbug <i>you</i>.)</p>
+
+<p>"Now then, we're ready," they heard Mr. <span class="smcap">Alkaloid</span> say. "Don't stare. Just
+a natural, easy&mdash;now then&mdash;thank you!"</p>
+
+<p>There was dead silence within the room and without. Then the door
+opened, and Mr. <span class="smcap">Alkaloid</span> came out cheerfully.</p>
+
+<p>"The poodle's dead all right," he said. "What you took to be blood,
+<span class="smcap">Ropes</span>, 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."</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Alice</span> went into hysterics; <span class="smcap">Algernon</span> swooned with joy; and <span class="smcap">Cyril Mush</span> had
+a fit.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>And to what better use could they have been put&mdash;especially if they were
+all like this?</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%">
+<a href="images/078.png">
+<img src="images/078.png" width="100%" alt="MISUNDERSTOOD" /></a>
+<h4>MISUNDERSTOOD!</h4>
+<center>(<span class="smcap">Annals of a Quiet Neighbourhood</span>.)</center><br />
+<p><i>Daughter of the House</i> (<i>anxious to introduce Partners to each other</i>).
+"<span class="smcap">Is your Card quite full, Mr. M'sawney</span>?" <i>Mr. M'Sawney.</i> "<span class="smcap">Oh dear, no!
+Which dance shall I give you</span>?"</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2>THE "SALUTE;" OR, TAKING DISTANCE.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><p>"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."&mdash;<i>H. A. Colmore Dunn's "Fencing."</i></p></blockquote>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<p class="i0">There, standing face to face, foil in hand,</p>
+<p class="i2">Just out of lunging range they salute,</p>
+<p class="i0">Who anon, swordsman stark, old fencer grand,</p>
+<p class="i2">Must fight their duel out, foot to foot.</p>
+<p class="i0">Mere preliminary flourish, all of this;</p>
+<p class="i2">The punctilio of "form" without a fault;</p>
+<p class="i0">But soon the blades shall counter, clash, and twist,</p>
+<p class="i10">In assault.</p>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<p class="i0">The ritual of the rapier or the foil;</p>
+<p class="i2">Vastly pretty ceremonial parade.</p>
+<p class="i0">Merest preface to the hot and breathless toil</p>
+<p class="i2">Of the fencers fiercely battling blade to blade.</p>
+<p class="i0">In position! Featly, formally on guard,</p>
+<p class="i2">Engage the blades in quarte. But by-and-by</p>
+<p class="i0">Every subtle thrust and parry, feint and ward,</p>
+<p class="i10">Each will try.</p>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<p class="i0">Foible to foible! Measure distance! Lunge!</p>
+<p class="i2">Now the thrust ends in the merest harmless touch;</p>
+<p class="i0">But ere the beaten man throws up the sponge,</p>
+<p class="i2">As the boxers say, relaxing his hilt-clutch,</p>
+<p class="i0">There'll be lunges and ripostes of other sort.</p>
+<p class="i2">Firm foot and steady hand must be their friend;</p>
+<p class="i0">The encounter will be struggle, not mere sport,</p>
+<p class="i10">Ere the end.</p>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<p class="i0">First to left and then to right! Parry of quarte!</p>
+<p class="i2">In pronation by a turn of supple wrist!</p>
+<p class="i0">Parry in tierce! All elegant and smart;</p>
+<p class="i2">But the lethal thrust no parry can resist</p>
+<p class="i0">Comes not in this preliminary play.</p>
+<p class="i2">The defender, so complacent and erect,</p>
+<p class="i0">Will show another pose another day,</p>
+<p class="i10">We suspect.</p>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<p class="i0">And that grey Grand Old Assailant, who's expert</p>
+<p class="i2">At beat and re-beat, press, and graze, and bind,</p>
+<p class="i0">Will try his best at a disabling hurt;</p>
+<p class="i2">It is not mere parade that's in his mind.</p>
+<p class="i0">Meanwhile he's taking measure of his foe,</p>
+<p class="i2">Meanwhile his foe of him is taking stock;</p>
+<p class="i0">And anon they'll come together in a glow,</p>
+<p class="i10">With a shock!</p>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2>THE PREMIER'S POWER.</h2>
+
+<center><i>Brief Fragment of a current Historical Romance.</i></center>
+
+<blockquote><p>[It is whispered that the <span class="smcap">Prime Minister</span> has of late taken too much
+into his own hands the conduct of the foreign affairs of the
+Government.&mdash;<i>Smoking-room Gossip.</i>]</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>The <span class="smcap">Prime Minister</span> 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.</p>
+
+<p>"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?"</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<p>Later on, his work bore fruit; and people then said that the Cabinet of
+the day must have been a strange one!</p>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%">
+<a href="images/079.png">
+<img src="images/079.png" width="100%" alt="THE SALUTE" /></a>
+<h4>THE "SALUTE!" OR, TAKING HIS MEASURE.</h4>
+<center>(<span class="smcap">Opening of Session, Feb. 11, 1890.</span>)</center>
+</div>
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span>
+
+<hr />
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%">
+<a href="images/081a.png">
+<img src="images/081a.png" width="100%" alt="HORRIBLE RESULT" /></a>
+<h4>HORRIBLE RESULT OF USING THE "EGYPTIAN FUR-TILISER."</h4>
+<p>"A cargo of 180,000 mummified Cats has just been landed at Liverpool, to
+be used as Manure."&mdash;<i>Daily Paper.</i></p>
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2>ROBERT'S COMPANIONS.</h2>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 30%">
+<a href="images/081b.png">
+<img src="images/081b.png" width="100%" alt="cartoon" /></a>
+</div>
+
+<p>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&mdash;as
+reel Gennelmen never does&mdash;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.</p>
+
+<p>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.</p>
+
+<p>He was afterwards told by his old Nuss <span class="smcap">Becky</span> that one speshal greevance
+of his pore mother was, that her youngest child being seven years old
+when <span class="smcap">Billy</span> 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 <span class="smcap">Billy</span> 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.</p>
+
+<p>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!</p>
+
+<p>Then, on the other hand, there's old <span class="smcap">Tom</span>, or rayther yung <span class="smcap">Tom</span>, 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 <span class="smcap">Bill</span>,
+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 <span class="smcap">Tom</span> 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, <span class="smcap">Tom</span> 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.</p>
+
+<p class="author"><span class="smcap">Robert</span>.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 60%">
+<a href="images/082.png">
+<img src="images/082.png" width="100%" alt="PUNCH&#39;S PARLIAMENTARY PUPPETS" /></a>
+<h4>PUNCH'S PARLIAMENTARY PUPPETS.</h4>
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 75%">
+<a href="images/083a.png">
+<img src="images/083a.png" width="100%" alt="ULTIMA RATIO" /></a>
+<h4>ULTIMA RATIO.</h4>
+<p><i>Small Rustic.</i> "<span class="smcap">Yeou can't go that way</span>."</p>
+<p><i>Stalwart Young Lady</i> (<i>out Sketching</i>). "<span class="smcap">Why not</span>?"</p>
+<p><i>Small Rustic.</i> "<span class="smcap">'Cause there's&mdash;there's Hurdles</span>."</p>
+<p><i>Stalwart Young Lady.</i> "<span class="smcap">But I can get over Hurdles</span>."</p>
+<p><i>Small Rustic.</i> "<span class="smcap">And then there's the Bull</span>!"</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2>ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.</h2>
+
+<center><span class="smcap">Extracted From the Diary of Toby, M P.</span></center><br />
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 50%">
+<a href="images/083b.png">
+<img src="images/083b.png" width="100%" alt="Cartoon" /></a>
+</div>
+
+<p><i><b>ouse</b> of Commons, Tuesday, February 11.</i>&mdash;"How do you do, <span class="smcap">Toby</span>? A merry
+New Session and many of them."</p>
+
+<p>It was <span class="smcap">Old Morality</span> 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:
+<span class="smcap">Hartington's</span> 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.</p>
+
+<p>"I think I'll put it off for a month or two, <span class="smcap">Toby</span>," 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."</p>
+
+<p>Very nice this of him. Wish all young fellows fresh from the University,
+even when they have taken honours, were equally modest.</p>
+
+<p>"Haven't seen you since we met at Greenlands' icy mountains in the
+Recess," <span class="smcap">Old Morality</span> 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 <span class="smcap">Speaker's</span> Chair; <span class="smcap">Akers-Douglas</span> 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 <span class="smcap">Queen</span>, to the Country, and to the Members
+of this House, in whichever part they sit. Did you ever, dear <span class="smcap">Toby</span>,
+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 <span class="smcap">Akers-Douglas</span> about Eight o'Clock."</p>
+
+<blockquote><i>Business done.</i>&mdash;Session opened.</blockquote>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Killing for a Shilling</span>.&mdash;Lord <span class="smcap">Wolseley</span> (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 <span class="smcap">Tommy Atkins</span> 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&mdash;that of a "Shilling Shocker!"</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span>
+
+<h2>SOMETHING LIKE A DINNER.</h2>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 30%">
+<a href="images/084a.png">
+<img src="images/084a.png" width="100%" alt="Vol au Vent" /></a>
+<h4>Vol au Vent.</h4>
+</div>
+
+<p>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 (<i>souffl&eacute; au parmesan</i>), and after a cut of beef comes the fish
+(<i>turbot &agrave; la Russe</i>). That is well meant, but it is crude. <i>Mr. Punch</i>
+has given his great mind to the subject, and presents to the
+consideration of the dining world the following hints for a meal:&mdash;</p>
+<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
+
+<div class="centered">
+Half-om-half.<br />
+Blauwe Landtongsche Oesters.<br />
+Hoog-Sauterneswijn.<br />
+Soepen.<br />
+Dikke Rivierkreeften Soep.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Volmaakte Soep in Van Dijk Stijl.<br />
+Amontillado.<br />
+Zuschotelles.<br />
+Selderij.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Olijven.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Radijs.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Haringen.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Poukenvorm gebakken
+in Berg-op-Zoomsche Stijl.<br />
+Liebfraumilch.<br />
+Gekruide Gerechten.<br />
+Volmaakte Soep in Van Dijk Stijl.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Lambasteien met Zeeuwsche Saus.<br />
+Chateau Danzac.<br />
+Voorgerechten.<br />
+Hoenden Vleugels, met Haagsche Saus.<br />
+Heetkoudegemakten Ganzenlevers in Zwolsche Stijl.<br />
+Ruinart, wrang wijn, Bijzonder Perrier Jouet, Louis Roederer, wrang,<br />
+Giesler &amp; Co., G. H. Mumm, buitengewoondroog.<br />
+Groenten.<br />
+Aardappelen in Sneeksche Stijl.<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Doperwten, Fransche Stijl.<br />
+Gebakkene Kropsalade.<br />
+Sorbet, Anneke Jans.<br />
+Gebraad.<br />
+Kanefasrug Eendvogels.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Gekruide Seiderij-sla.<br />
+Richebourg.<br />
+Nagerecht.<br />
+Curacaogelei.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Italiaansche Ijs.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+Edamsche Kaas.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Vruchten.<br />
+Gemonteerde Stukken.<br />
+Koffie.<br />
+Likeuren. Sigaren.<br />
+Pupen en Tabak.<br />
+</div>
+
+<p>It may be objected that half-and-half, even when badly spelt, is a cold
+preparation for dinner; and others may take exception to <i>Poukenvorm</i>,
+as likely to have an earthy taste. But did they ever try it <i>gebakken in
+Berg-op-Zoomsche Stijl</i>? It is no use mincing matters. Let anyone in
+search of a good dinner enter any well-appointed <i>restaurant</i>, and order
+this <i>menu</i> right through down to <i>Pupen en Tabak</i> (which is not a
+preparation of dog's meat), and if they are not satisfied, <i>Mr. Punch</i>
+is a Dutchman.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<h2>"RICHARDSON'S SHOW" AND A "BILL OF THE PLAY."</h2>
+
+<p>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. <span class="smcap">Robert
+Buchanan</span> (with the assistance of the late Mr. <span class="smcap">Richardson</span>) "has changed
+all that." <i>Clarissa</i>, 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 <i>duello</i>. When it is announced that the
+successful fencer who "kills his man" is no less a person than that
+excellent Comedian, Mr. <span class="smcap">Thomas Thorne</span>, it will be readily understood
+that "the New Drama" is the reverse of lively. <i>Clarissa</i> 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 <span class="smcap">Winifred
+Emery</span> is exceedingly clever, but her death-scene is painfully
+protracted. Mr. <span class="smcap">Thalberg</span>, as <i>Lovelace</i>, is a sad dog in every sense&mdash;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 <i>Clarissa</i> is carried out <i>&agrave; la</i> <span class="smcap">Guy Faux</span> 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.
+<span class="smcap">Buchanan</span> 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.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%">
+<a href="images/084b.png">
+<img src="images/084b.png" width="100%" alt="Something Lively" /></a><br />
+<h4>Something Lively at the Vaudeville.</h4>
+</div>
+
+<p>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 <i>Fausts</i>, Mr. <span class="smcap">Alexander</span>, will be disappointed&mdash;they had far
+better stay at home, or go to see <i>Clarissa</i>. Mr. <span class="smcap">Hamilton A&iuml;d&eacute;</span> has
+adapted from the French of <span class="smcap">Carr&eacute;</span> (a case of fetch and carry) a Farcical
+Comedy in Three Acts, which <i>he</i> calls <i>Dr. Bill</i>, in preference to <i>Dr.
+Jojo</i> the Gallic original. The prescription from which the Doctor
+concocts his mixture might have been supplied by the Criterion. Mr.
+<span class="smcap">Frederick Terry</span> plays a part that would have suited Mr. <span class="smcap">Wyndham</span> down to
+the ground, and Mr. <span class="smcap">Chevalier</span> is continually suggesting the
+peculiarities of Mr. <span class="smcap">Maltby</span>. Miss <span class="smcap">Fanny Brough</span> is Miss <span class="smcap">Fanny Brough</span>,
+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. <span class="smcap">Alexander</span> has certainly conquered the
+world&mdash;of Comedy. He may do less wise things if he rests satisfied, and
+leaves Tragedy alone for an indefinitely lengthened period.</p>
+
+<p class="author"><span class="smcap">Serjeant Cox, on behalf of Private Box</span>.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 60%">
+<a href="images/084c.png">
+<img src="images/084c.png" width="100%" alt="Making up" /></a>
+<h4>Making up Dr. Bill's Prescription.</h4>
+</div>
+
+<p>P.S.&mdash;Mr. <span class="smcap">Jerome's</span> new piece (which he describes as "comparatively
+speaking, new and original"), just produced at Terry's Theatre, is
+rather disappointing. Its title of <i>New Lamps for Old</i> 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. <span class="smcap">Penley</span>,
+rising and descending in a dinner-lift, is (at first) funny; and Miss
+<span class="smcap">Cissy Grahame</span> is ever welcome.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 5%">
+<a href="images/084d.gif">
+<img src="images/084d.gif" width="100%" alt="Pointing finger" /></a>
+</div>
+
+<blockquote><p>NOTICE.&mdash;Rejected Communications or Contributions, whether MS.,
+Printed Matter, Drawings, or Pictures of any description, will in no
+case be returned, not even when accompanied by Stamped and Addressed
+Envelope, Cover, or Wrapper. To this rule there will be no
+exception.</p></blockquote>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+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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+</pre>
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+</body>
+</html>
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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: ASCII
+
+*** 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.
+
+ "Tres volontiers," repartit le demon. "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 gene_
+ 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 facade 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 PERSONAE.
+
+_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 _fiancee_. 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 _mesalliance_!
+
+_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 (_souffle au parmesan_), and after a cut of beef comes the fish
+(_turbot a 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 _a 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 AIDE has
+adapted from the French of CARRE (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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