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July 23, 1887. by Various</title> + <style type="text/css"> + body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + p {text-align: justify;} + blockquote {text-align: justify;} + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + .center {text-align: center;} + td {padding-left: 1em;} + td.note {text-align: left;font-size: 0.9em; font-weight: normal; border: 1px dashed; padding: 1em;} + hr {text-align: center; width: 50%;} + html>body hr {margin-right: 25%; margin-left: 25%; width: 50%;} + hr.full {width: 100%;} + html>body hr.full {margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 0%; width: 100%;} + hr.medium {width: 76%;} + html>body hr.medium {margin-right: 12%; margin-left: 12%; width: 76%;} + hr.short {text-align: center; width: 20%;} + html>body hr.short {margin-right: 40%; margin-left: 40%; width: 20%;} + div.centered {text-align: center;} /* work around for IE centering with CSS problem part 1 */ + div.centered table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;} + /* work around for IE centering with CSS problem part 2 */ + span.pagenum + {position: absolute; left: 1%; right: 91%; font-size: 8pt; text-indent: 0;} + + .poem + {margin-left:25%; margin-right:10%; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: left;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem p {margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem p.i2 {margin-left: 1em;} + .poem p.i4 {margin-left: 2em;} + .poem p.i6 {margin-left: 3em;} + .poem p.i8 {margin-left: 4em;} + .poem p.i10 {margin-left: 5em;} + .poem p.i12 {margin-left: 6em;} + .poem1 + {margin-left:15%; margin-right:10%; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: left;} + .poem1 .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem1 p {margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .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;} + + .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;} + .figcenter {margin: auto;} + .figright {float: right; width: auto;} + .figleft {float: left; width: auto;} + + .img {margin: 0; padding-right: 0;} + .div {margin: 0; padding: 0;} + + .inline {border: none; vertical-align: middle;} + + p.author {text-align: right;} + + .regards {text-align: right; + margin-right: 4em;} + + .salute {text-align: left; + margin-left: 2em;} + + pre {font-size: 75%; } + </style> +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 93, +July 23, 1887., 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, Volume 93, July 23, 1887. + +Author: Various + +Release Date: June 13, 2010 [EBook #32804] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, CHARIVARI, JULY 23, 1887 *** + + + + +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 93.</h2> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<h2>JULY 23, 1887.</h2> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> + +<h2>MR. PUNCH'S MANUAL FOR YOUNG RECITERS.</h2> + +<p>No Amateur Reciter can consider himself fully equipped for the Drawing-room +or Platform unless he is furnished with at least one poem in dialect, and +<i>Mr. Punch</i> has accordingly commissioned from his Poet a recitation couched in +the well-known vernacular of Loompshire. Loompshire, it need hardly be +explained, is the county where most of the stage-rustics come from. The author +of this little poem ventures to hope that philologists will find much deserving +of careful study in some of the local expressions and provincialisms, while +he can guarantee their entire authenticity, as they are mostly of his own +invention. The phraseology is strictly copyright and must not be infringed, +except by a dignitary of archiepiscopal rank for a charitable purpose. As for +the piece itself, it is founded on a little anecdote related to the poet, which he +believes has not hitherto seen the light in a metrical form. It has a good old-fashioned +double title, viz:—</p> + +<h4><span class="smcap">Michaelmas Day; or, How Tammas Pattle very nearly Cooked his Goose.</span></h4> + +<p>Begin by explaining the situation, thus:—"This is supposed to be spoken by +a Loompshire cottager, who overhears a stranger admiring the goodly proportions +of his goose,"—then start with as broad a drawl as you can assume. Remember +that to be effective you must be unintelligible.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 20%"> +<a href="images/025.png"> +<img src="images/025.png" width="100%" alt="cartoon of startled man." /></a> +</div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">"Bewty," I 'ears ya carl her?—aye, ya niver spoöke truthfuller wurrëd!</p> +<p class="i0">Rammack t' coontry side ovver, an ya weänt see no foiner burrëd!</p> +<p class="i0">Passon he axed ma to sell her—but I towld him, "Beänt o' naw use—</p> +<p class="i0">She's as mooch of a Chris'en as moäst," I sez, "if she's nobbut a guse!"</p> +<p class="i0">Coom, then!</p> +</div></div> + +<p>(<i>This coaxingly, to an imaginary bird—be careful not to seem to make any invidious distinctions among your audience.</i>)</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">... Naäy, but she wunna! she's gotten a wull of her oän!</p> +<p class="i0">Looök at the heye of her,—pink an' greëy, loike t'fire in a hopal stoän!</p> +<p class="i0">Howsiver she sims sa hinnercent-loike, she's a follerin' arl I saäy:</p> +<p class="i0">An' I boärt 'er at Kettleby Feär, I did, two yeär coom Cannelmas Daäy.</p> +<p class="i0">Araminta her neäme is—but I carls 'er "Minty," fur shoärt,</p> +<p class="i0">She weänt naw moor nor a goslin' o' coorse, what taïme she wur boärt:</p> +<p class="i0">But a' knawed she'd turn oot a rare 'un, to jedge by her weëight an' feäl,</p> +<p class="i0">An' I reckoned to fat her by Michaelmas Eve, ef I buzzled 'er oop wi meäl,</p> +<p class="i0">Mayhappen ya'll ardly beleäve ma—but she unnerstood fra' the fust,</p> +<p class="i0">What wur hexpected of 'er, (<i>with a senile chuckle</i>,) I thowt that burr'd 'ud ha' bust!</p> +<p class="i0">Cram her, a' did! but she swuckered it doon, wi' niver a weästed drop,</p> +<p class="i0">Fur she tuk that hinterest in it as she'd ruther ha' choäked nor stop!</p> +<p class="i0">An' she'd foller wheeriver a went—till I hedn't naw peäce fur t' foäk,</p> +<p class="i0">"'Ere be <span class="smcap">Tammy</span> long of his sweetart!" wur hallus the village joäk!</p> +<p class="i0">An' I'd saäy: "'Tis ma Michaelmas denner <i>I'm</i> squirin' aboot, owd chap!"</p> +<p class="i0">An' Minty she'd stan' up a' tiptoe, an' fluther her neck, an' flap!</p> +<p class="i0">Did I 'appen to gaw of a hevenin, to looök at ma hinion patch?</p> +<p class="i0">Minty 'ud coom in along o' meä, an' rarstle aboot, an' scratch,</p> +<p class="i0">Cocking her heye at the bed o' saäge, with a kink as mooch as to saäy:</p> +<p class="i0">"Wull the saäge an' th' hinions be ready fur <i>meä</i>, by toime I be ready for theëy?"</p> +<p class="i0">Or she'd snifter at arl the windfalls as ligged i' the horchard graäss,</p> +<p class="i0"><i>I</i> knawed what she wur erfter, a did—she wur pickin' 'em oot for the saäss!</p> +<p class="i0">An' I'd roob ma ands fur to see her a ploddlin' across th' roärd,</p> +<p class="i0">(<i>Tenderly.</i>) "Thee'll mak' a denner, ma pratty," I'd saäy to her, "fit fur a loärd!"</p> +<p class="i0">Maäin an' boolky she wur as Michaelmas week coom nigh,</p> +<p class="i0">"Her'll niver not bulge naw bigger," I sez, "an she art fur to die!"</p> +<p class="i0">I knawed she wur doitlin' soomwheer by the pasture under t' moör,</p> +<p class="i0">Sa I fetched the chopper an' fettled 'im oop—an' I went fur to do 'er! (<i>Grimly.</i>)</p> +<p class="i0">An' I chillupped to Araminty, an' oop she rins with a clack,</p> +<p class="i0">"Seeä what I've gotten to show 'ee," I sez, (wi' the chopper behind ma back)</p> +<p class="i0">But I looked sa straänge an callow, she knawed I wur meanin' 'er ill,</p> +<p class="i0">An' she kep a sidlin' an' edgin' awaäy, an' a gaäpin' wi' hopen bill!</p> +<p class="i0">Then I maäde a grab at her sooden—an' she skirtled off to a feäld,</p> +<p class="i0">Wheer Squire had been diggin' fur fireclaäy—eh, but she yellocked an' beäled!</p> +<p class="i0">Cloppity-joggle I chaäsed her, sa well as I cud, bein' laäme,</p> +<p class="i0">An' flippity-flopper she kep' on ahead—an' a' squawked out "Shaäme!"</p> +<p class="i0">(<i>The Amateur Reciter should find little difficulty here in suggesting something of the intonation of a frightened goose: Pause—then continue apologetically.</i>)</p> +<p class="i0">I wur haäf asheämed o' mysen' I wur, afoor I coom to the hend,</p> +<p class="i0">(<i>Remorsefully.</i>) "Ye owd ongreätful guzzard," I thowt, "to gaw killin' ya hoänly friend!"</p> +<p class="i0">But ma friend wur a Michaelmas denner tew as I hedn't naw art to refuse!</p> +<p class="i0">(<i>More remorsefully.</i>) An' it maäde me seeä what a gowk I'd beeän to ha' gotten sa thick with a guse!</p> +<p class="i0">Sa I danged 'er well as I slummocked on, as ard as ma legs cud stoomp,</p> +<p class="i0">"Waäit till I gets tha, ma laädy!" I sez,—when, arl on a sooden ... Boomp!</p> +<p class="i0">—An I wur a sprawlin' an' floppin' in wan of the owd Squire's pits,</p> +<p class="i0">But fur t' claäy at t' bottom an' that, I mout ha bin brokken to bits!</p> +<p class="i0">An' I roared fur 'elp, fur I cudn't git up, an' the watter wur oop to my chin.</p> +<p class="i0">But nobbudy eerd ma a' beälin', nor thowt on the hole I wur in!</p> +<p class="i0">They'd niver find nawthin but boäns, I knawed, if they'd iver the gumption to dredge,</p> +<p class="i0">Then I groäned (<i>impressively</i>)—fur I eerd Araminty a tooklin' 'oop by the edge!</p> +<p class="i0">(<i>Sulky sarcasm.</i>) "Wunnerful funny, beänt it?" I sez, (I wur feälin' fit for to choäk.</p> +<p class="i0">To be catched loike a bee in a bottle—an' see her enjyin' the joäk!)</p> +<p class="i0">(<i>Indignantly.</i>) "Hevn't ya naw moor manners," I sez, "ya greät fat himpident thing!"</p> +<p class="i0">(<i>Pathetically.</i>) Fur I'd bred her oop from a goslin', I had—and theer wur the sting!</p> +<p class="i0">Well, she left ma aloän at laäst, an' I hedn't a mossel o' hoäpe—</p> +<p class="i0">When by coom <span class="smcap">Harry</span> the hedger, an a' hoickt ma oop with a roäpe!</p> +<p class="i0">"Shudn't ha' heerd 'ee, <span class="smcap">Tammas</span>," he sez, "or knawed as owt wur t' matter—</p> +<p class="i0">Ef it hedn't ha bin fur yon guse o' thine, as coom an raäised sech a clatter.</p> +<p class="i0">An' drawed ma hon in spite o' mysen—till I moinded the hopen shaäft!"</p> +<p class="i0">(<i>Catch your breath, then brokenly.</i>) Aye, Minty wur saävin ma life oop theer—when I wur a thinkin' she laäft!</p> +<p class="i0">Then I rooshed fur to catch her to coodle and gie her a greätful kiss—</p> +<p class="i0">Eh, but I right down bloobered (<i>with pained surprise</i>)—fur she scatted awaäy with a hiss!</p> +<p class="i0">"Weän't niver 'urt 'ee ageän!" I sez, "if thee'll hoänly forgit what's past!"</p> +<p class="i0">She wur raäre an' stiff fur a bit, she wur—but (<i>with a doddering complacency</i>) I maäde her coom round at last!</p> +<p class="i0">An' I had ma Michaelmas denner the saäme—an' a arty good denner he wur!</p> +<p class="i0">Sat down coompany, tew—fur I cudn't ha' done without <i>her</i>!</p> +<p class="i0">What did we maäke a meäl on? (<i>Shamefaced confusion here, expressed by scratching the head.</i>) Well,—happen thee'll think me a haäss—</p> +<p class="i0">But I'll tell 'ee: (<i>with candour</i>) I dined wi Minty on the stooffin' an happle saäss!</p> +</div></div> + +<center>(<i>Retire without ostentation, to have your jaw set at the +nearest Surgeon's.</i>)</center> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class="smcap">Scarcely Worth While.</span>—For some personal remarks +on the Prince of <span class="smcap">Wales</span>, utterly gratuitous and in the +worst possible taste, the <i>P. M. G.</i>, as we hear, has been +dropped by the Service Clubs, and subsequently by the +Turf. As a mark of strong disapprobation this was right +enough, but if it was intended as a punishment which +would inflict loss, we are inclined to think such boycotting +may have had exactly the contrary effect. How +happy was <span class="smcap">Thackeray's</span> title "<i>The Pall Mall Gazette</i> +written by gentlemen for gentlemen!" If it is not so +now, what have we got in-<span class="smcap">Stead</span>?</p> + +<hr /> + +<h4>Philosophy at the Popping Crease.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">"The glorious uncertainty?" why, to be sure</p> +<p class="i0">That it <i>must</i> be the slowest should see at a glance,</p> +<p class="i0">For Cricket, as long as the sport shall endure,</p> +<p class="i0"><i>Must</i> be in its nature a mere game of chance.</p> +<p class="i0">"'Tis all pitch and toss;" one can show it is so;—</p> +<p class="i0">'Tisn't science or strength rules its losses or winnings.</p> +<p class="i0">Half depends on the "pitch"—of the wickets, you know,</p> +<p class="i0">The rest on the "toss"—for first innings.</p> +</div></div> + +<hr /> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Good Business.</span>"—An advertiser in the <i>Daily Chronicle</i> +of the 12th inst., has not a bad idea of a fair profit:—</p> + +<blockquote><p>BABY-CARRIAGE Bassinette, unsoiled; 4 rubber-wheels, +carriage-springs, reversible hood, handsome rug, complete, +£27; cost £4 10<i>s.</i>, last month. Mrs. W.</p></blockquote> + +<p>If "Mrs. W." has not already obtained her price, we +sincerely wish she may get it. She deserves it.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">The Bancroft School.</span>"—On Saturday last Prince +<span class="smcap">Albert Victor</span> laid the foundation-stone of the new +buildings at Woodford. This sounds promising for the +Theatrical Profession. Of course Mr. <span class="smcap">Bancroft</span> will take +the male pupils, and Mrs. <span class="smcap">Bancroft</span> will instruct "the +Spindle side."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class="smcap">Sarah B.</span> at the Lyceum, under the management of +<span class="smcap">M. Mayer</span>. May 'er season be successful!</p> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 50%"> +<a href="images/026a.png"> +<img src="images/026a.png" width="100%" alt="LE MONDE" /></a> +<h4>"LE MONDE OÙ L'ON S'AMUSE."</h4> +<p><i>She.</i> "<span class="smcap">By the bye, I met your Brother at Dinner last Night. Such +a delightful Party! <i>Such</i> a Dinner!! <i>Such</i> Flowers!!!</span>"</p> +<p><i>He.</i> "<span class="smcap">Indeed! Where <i>was</i> it?</span>"</p> +<p><i>She.</i> "<span class="smcap">At the—a—the—a——Upon my Word, I really <i>forget</i> whose +House it was I was dining at!</span>"</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>A DAY OUT. (By Jacques Junior.)</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">A fishing, paddling pic-nic! What, to stand</p> +<p class="i0">On the lush margent of the gusty stream,</p> +<p class="i0">With feet benumbed, and watch the bobbing quill,</p> +<p class="i0">And then to dine <i>al fresco</i>—not for <span class="smcap">Jacques</span>!</p> +<p class="i0">Where, for the smooth mahogany of Ind,</p> +<p class="i0">The unplaned earth is board; for cushion'd chair</p> +<p class="i0">The damp earth, ant-infested, or rough root</p> +<p class="i0">Chafing the unaccustomed cuticle;</p> +<p class="i0">Where mint sauce th' insecure platter doth o'errun,</p> +<p class="i0">With hose and doublet playing Lucifer;</p> +<p class="i0">Where glasses must be emptied as they're filled,</p> +<p class="i0">To the great prejudice of temperance,</p> +<p class="i0">Or, if set down, drops me a spider in,</p> +<p class="i0">To spoil the fortune he cannot enjoy,</p> +<p class="i0">Like Sir No-Company, who makes a third.</p> +<p class="i0">While e'en a grumble, relishabler far</p> +<p class="i0">Than that keen sauce of Sparta, is denied.</p> +<p class="i0">For one there'll be who'll not let ill alone,</p> +<p class="i0">But, "I prithee try this compound; I learnt the knack</p> +<p class="i0">In Venice," or, "Thus in England wines are mix'd!</p> +<p class="i0">Pray you pronounce upon't." Another, worst,</p> +<p class="i0">Will keep all waiting while he spoils good food,</p> +<p class="i0">Concocting some vile preparation,</p> +<p class="i0">Calling't a Sallet. "Taste in charity,</p> +<p class="i0">For Fate's against me; some ingredient</p> +<p class="i0">Of utmost import hath been left at home."</p> +<p class="i0">And so the wholesome green is all besprent</p> +<p class="i0">With bile-disturbing mixture. Out upon't!</p> +<p class="i0">I'd rather find a kitten in a stew</p> +<p class="i0">Than one of these same preaching salad-bunglers.</p> +<p class="i0">What are the uses of <i>al fresco</i> meals?</p> +<p class="i0">Who likes a toad, ugly and venomous,—</p> +<p class="i0">Where's such a precious fool—upon the bread?</p> +<p class="i0">And they who, in contempt, the Dryad's haunts</p> +<p class="i0">Profane with empty bottles and loose papers,</p> +<p class="i0">Find tongues in tarts, ants running on their boots,</p> +<p class="i0">Wasps in the wine, and salt in everything!</p> +</div></div> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class="smcap">At the Lyceum.</span>—Saturday was the last night of Mr. +<span class="smcap">Irving's</span> Season,—a season remarkable for the inexhaustible +popularity of <i>Faust</i>, produced in 1885, and for the +revival of most of the Lyceum successes, by way of airing +them for American exportation. On this occasion <i>The +Merchant of Venice</i> was given. Miss <span class="smcap">Ellen Terry's</span> +<i>Portia</i> is one of the best examples of true comedy acting +in the present day. Mr. <span class="smcap">Irving's</span> <i>Shylock</i> is a marvellously +subtle impersonation, full of humour, pathos, and +tragic power. After the play he made a short speech bidding +a temporary farewell to his friends. <i>Mr. Punch</i> +replies, "Good luck go with you, <i>Au revoir!</i>"</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>THE QUEEN AT HATFIELD.</h2> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 20%"> +<a href="images/026b.png"> +<img src="images/026b.png" width="100%" alt="THE QUEEN AT HATFIELD" /></a> +</div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">In days of old in Hatfield halls,</p> +<p class="i2">They feasted late and early,</p> +<p class="i0">The grave Lord Keeper led the brawls,</p> +<p class="i2">And danced beside Lord <span class="smcap">Burleigh</span>.</p> +<p class="i0">The stars of great <span class="smcap">Eliza's</span> reign,</p> +<p class="i2">Were seen in all their glory,</p> +<p class="i0">Smart <span class="smcap">Essex</span> girt with golden chain,</p> +<p class="i2">And <span class="smcap">Raleigh</span> known to story.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">'Tis said that 'neath a Hatfield Oak,</p> +<p class="i2"><span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span> was sitting,</p> +<p class="i0">When courtiers hastened there and spoke,</p> +<p class="i2">In lowly tones, befitting</p> +<p class="i0">The mighty message that they bore;</p> +<p class="i2">There, where the leaves waved o'er her,</p> +<p class="i0">They hailed her <span class="smcap">Queen</span> from shore to shore,</p> +<p class="i2">And humbly bowed before her.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">And now another <span class="smcap">Queen</span> has gone</p> +<p class="i2">Where Hatfield lawns are shady;</p> +<p class="i0">The ancient oaks have looked upon,</p> +<p class="i2">Another gracious Lady.</p> +<p class="i0">Once more a <span class="smcap">Cecil</span> plays the host,</p> +<p class="i2">And bows in Royal presence;</p> +<p class="i0">What wonder if Queen <span class="smcap">Bess's</span> ghost,</p> +<p class="i2">Looked down upon the pleasance.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">The past and present seem to meet,</p> +<p class="i2">In those historic portals;</p> +<p class="i0">Methinks our modern Statesmen greet,</p> +<p class="i2"><span class="smcap">Elizabeth's</span> immortals.</p> +<p class="i0">And, as the phantoms fade away,</p> +<p class="i2">While bells clash from the steeple,</p> +<p class="i0">They cry, "Long live <span class="smcap">Victoria</span>,</p> +<p class="i2">To bless her loving people!"</p> +</div></div> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class="smcap">Very Annoying.</span>—Just when everything +was going along so smoothly, just when the +Jubilee police arrangements had been so successful +as to warrant a tribute from Chief +Commissioner <i>Punch</i>, and a recognition from +Londoners generally, to have these police +difficulties suddenly sprung upon Sir <span class="smcap">Charles +Warren</span> was enough to drive him wild,—enough +to make him a rabid <span class="smcap">Warren</span>. But +he has taken the right course, and much good +will come out of all this trouble. Cheer up, +Sir <span class="smcap">Charles</span>! Anyhow <i>you</i> are not in for a +<span class="smcap">Cass</span>-tigation.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class="smcap">On</span> Messrs. <span class="smcap">Richard Bentley and Sons'</span> +list of books appears <i>Mr. Hissey's Journeys +in England</i>. What an unpleasant visitor, if +he is only true to the name of <span class="smcap">Hissey</span>, and +makes the tour of the Theatres in London and +the provinces. Managers, beware!</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>"MY LAWYER."</h2> + +<blockquote>[Crown 8vo., 6<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i>, MY LAWYER: A Concise +Abridgment of, and Popular Guide to, the Laws +of England. By a Barrister-at-Law.]</blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Who was it, when I thought I saw</p> +<p class="i0">In something I had signed a flaw,</p> +<p class="i0">Gave me my first distaste for law?</p> +<p class="i12">My Lawyer.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Who, when into his hands I fell,</p> +<p class="i0">As I my grievance tried to tell,</p> +<p class="i0">Around me wove some fatal spell?</p> +<p class="i12">My Lawyer.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Who from my mind at once all trace</p> +<p class="i0">Of doubt and fear did quite efface,</p> +<p class="i0">And made me think I had a "case"?</p> +<p class="i12">My Lawyer.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Who of all obstacles made light,</p> +<p class="i0">And, whether I was wrong or right,</p> +<p class="i0">Insisted that I ought to fight?</p> +<p class="i12">My Lawyer.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Who, as I saw the costs increase,</p> +<p class="i0">And wished to come to terms of peace,</p> +<p class="i0">Declined to let the turmoil cease?</p> +<p class="i12">My Lawyer.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Who daily plagued me more and more,</p> +<p class="i0">And every time I passed his door</p> +<p class="i0">Charged me straight off thirteen-and-four?</p> +<p class="i12">My Lawyer.</p> +</div></div> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Who, liking not his little games,</p> +<p class="i0">When I resolved to waive my claims,</p> +<p class="i0">Quick added fuel to the flames?</p> +<p class="i12">My Lawyer.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Who, though some compromise I sought,</p> +<p class="i0">And did not wish the matter fought,</p> +<p class="i0">Before a jury had it brought?</p> +<p class="i12">My Lawyer.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Who, though at last I got enraged,</p> +<p class="i0">The battle still more stoutly waged,</p> +<p class="i0">And leading Counsel, three, engaged?</p> +<p class="i12">My Lawyer.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Who, when, of course, my case went wrong,</p> +<p class="i0">Because it wasn't worth a song,</p> +<p class="i0">Sent in a bill twelve pages long?</p> +<p class="i12">My Lawyer.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">And who, now that I'm wiser grown,</p> +<p class="i0">And to this book for aid have flown,</p> +<p class="i0">Would still on me inflict his own?</p> +<p class="i12">My Lawyer.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Yet now, spite all his legal tricks,</p> +<p class="i0">Henceforth this work, price six-and-six,</p> +<p class="i0">Shall promptly be, in every fix,</p> +<p class="i12">My Lawyer.</p> +</div></div> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 50%"> +<a href="images/027.png"> +<img src="images/027.png" width="100%" alt=""WHAT'S THE NEXT FASHION?"" /></a> +<h4>"WHAT'S THE NEXT FASHION?"</h4> +<h5>"Varium et mutabile semper Fœmina."</h5> +<p><i>Madame France.</i> "<span class="smcap">I wonder which will Suit me Best, after all. I'm beginning to be Tired of This.</span>"</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> + +<h2>CRICKET AT LORD'S.</h2> + +<center><i>Hits by Dumb Crambo, Junior.</i></center> + +<table summary="Hits by Dumb Crambo" +><tr><td> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 100%"> +<img src="images/028a.png" width="100%" alt="Some fine Free Hitting." /> +<h4>Some fine Free Hitting.</h4> +</div></td> +<td><div class="figcenter" style="width: 100%"> +<img src="images/028b.png" width="100%" alt="Well Stopped!" /> +<h4>Well Stopped!</h4> +</div> +</td></tr> +</table> + +<hr /> + +<h2>THE LESSON OF THE ROYAL REVIEW.</h2> + +<center>(<i>By Our Special Scientific Experimentalist.</i>)</center> + +<p>It was with great satisfaction that I received my orders to visit +Aldershot on the occasion of the Royal Review, "to deduce from the +display the exact position occupied by England amongst the Powers +of Europe as a Military Nation." I felt that hardly a better man +could have been chosen for the task. My experience in the four +divisions of the globe, my knowledge of the wars of the last three +quarters of a century, exactly fitted me for the task. I said to +myself, "I am intrusted with the performance of a solemn and +sacred duty. I am asked to carefully report upon the condition of a +large body of men, with a view to sampling the entire British Army. +The large body of men shall have my careful consideration." +Actuated by these worthy motives, I left Waterloo in the early +morn (it was scarcely nine o'clock), and travelled to Aldershot.</p> + +<p>On my way down I entered into discussion with four civilians, +whose interest in the day's proceedings seemed to be centred in the +great question of lunch. It was in vain that I attempted to sound +them upon the efficiency or the reverse of the Auxiliary Forces (they +were all more or less connected with the Volunteers), because they +confined their conversation to where they were likely to find So-and-So's +drag on Bourley Wood, and where the—— Volunteer Battalion +of the Royal Such-and-Such a Regiment was situated.</p> + +<p>"What do you think of canvass as a shelter?" I asked, note-book +in hand.</p> + +<p>"Oh, a mess-tent is as good a place as anywhere else if the cookery +and wines are all right," was the only reply I received that had the +slightest bearing on the military situation. Then my companions +refused to talk of anything further save the racing fixtures for +the following fortnight.</p> + +<p>At Aldershot I found a number of omnibuses drawn up, labelled +"House of Commons," which were soon occupied by elderly ladies, +who appeared to be excellent representatives of our Legislators. +Seeing that the flymen had arranged a tariff that measured distances +with sovereigns, and hours with bank-notes, I determined to walk to +the Long Valley, and my example was largely followed. Smartly-gowned +ladies, and men whose attire suggested the shady side of +Pall-Mall, dispensed with all conveyances, and sturdily trudged to +the review ground, to the intense disgust of the cabmen, whose +harvest could not have been particularly lucrative. The only vehicles +that we saw on the road were waggons filled with country-folk, and +harnessed to heavy lumbering cart-horses, that moved very deliberately +and slowly, and now and again a London coach. A specimen +of the last came up to me just as I was getting out of the town—it +was occupied by a company of ladies and gentlemen with an up-all-night +look about them. As a matter of fact, I believe it had started +shortly after midnight, or thereabouts. I recognised one of the +occupants, who, until he caught my eye, had seemed rather depressed, +but who, upon exchanging greetings with me, assumed a +most jovial air, and seemed quite to wake up. He subsequently told +me that he had never enjoyed himself so much. "Up over-night, you +see, then a long drive in the dawn and early morning, getting to +Aldershot before the <span class="smcap">Queen</span>. Review, lunch, and home again." The +last item, I fancy, must have been rather an anti-climax, although my +friend would not admit it. However, I have a kind of instinct that +should there be another big Review, he will choose the rail in preference +to the road.</p> + +<p>As I passed the barracks I could not help admiring the waggery +of the Military Authorities in setting up placards requesting "the +Public not to walk on the grass." The light-hearted Authorities (it +is scarcely necessary to say to those who know the latent humour in +the breasts of the Head-quarters' Staff) had selected a site for these +posters where no grass would grow. From the hurry-skurry observable +on all sides, I gathered that the Procession was on its way—a +supposition that was turned into certainty by the boom of a Royal +Salute. And yet I was miles from my seat! There was only one +thing to do—to force my way down a road that had been closed since +nine o'clock. The entrance to this pathway was guarded by a +mounted sentry. I approached him, and showed him my pass, +which made me free of all "camps and bivouacs." He complained +that he was not a "camp," but had nothing to urge in denial when +I insisted that "then he must be a bivouac." As some dozens of +others were attempting to force the passage, he allowed me to pass, +and from that moment practically the British Army was at my +mercy. No provision had been made to deal with spectators when +once the gallant Scots Grey had been passed. Thus I was able to +lead the Royal Procession, and was greatly pleased to find every +one on the alert. Battalion after battalion seemed to me well set up, +and the Duke of <span class="smcap">Cambridge</span> with his drawn sabre left nothing to be +desired. I inspected them all, and can certainly say that I had not to +stop to re-arrange a belt or even a general-officer's scabbard. This +being the case, my movements were rapid, but not faster than those +of the Derby Dog. In the fearful heat I found my seat (a very +comfortable one) close to the saluting point, and then was prepared to +see the march-past. The bands struck up. "<span class="smcap">George Ranger</span>" +waved his sword and there was a shout. Then came the tramp of +armed men, and it occurred to me that after a very long run, I could +scarcely do better than close my eyes. I found by doing this that I +could think the matter out. What had perplexed me on the road +down was how I should find the mess of the particular regiment that +had honoured me with a card of invitation for luncheon.</p> + +<p>I soon made up my mind that I had better ask my way. This I +did, and found the country Constabulary most intelligent. As I had +come to Aldershot to see the soldiers, rather than to enjoy the +pleasures of the table, it would perhaps be out of place to mention +here how good lobster salad is when you are really hungry, and how +very grateful to the palate claret cup appears when one has had +nothing to drink for many hours. Enough to say, I enjoyed myself +thoroughly, and catching a train to Waterloo, was once more at home.</p> + +<p>On reading my notes I find that I have left unanswered the question +with which I commenced this article. I was sent to Aldershot to +"deduce from the display, the exact position occupied by England +amongst the Powers of Europe as a Military Nation." Quite so. Well—but +perhaps on second thoughts I had better get the Editor to send +me to another review before I attempt to solve the problem.</p> + +<p class="regards">[Certainly: try it.—<span class="smcap">Ed.</span>]</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>OF THE MASKE-ALINE GENDER.</h2> + +<p>The great success of the Gray's Inn <i>Maske</i>, has raised in the mind +of some of the critics the consideration whether a revival of this form +of entertainment could not be established. Ever ready to assist in +carrying out a valuable suggestion, <i>Mr. Punch</i> begs to provide a +<i>Scenario</i> for a modern <i>Maske:</i>—</p> + +<blockquote><p><span class="smcap">Scene I.</span>—<i>The Exterior of the Castles of</i> <span class="smcap">Torius</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Gladstonius</span> +<i>with a view of the Palace of Westminster, seen through the gateway. +Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Sessionius</span>, <i>who looks about him and ponders</i>.</p></blockquote> + +<p><i>Sessionius.</i> This should not be! Such a time as this puts down a +thousand pleasant schemes of summer! When a Bill, an Opposition, +and a Closure are met within the Hall of great St. Stephen's! Let +the Ex-M.P. bless the summer day, but Whigs, Rads, and Tories, +needs must nod to the Sessions Reign.</p> + +<blockquote><p><i>Enter</i> <span class="smcap">Vacatia</span>.</p></blockquote> + +<p><i>Vacatia.</i> Well, o'ertaken Session!</p> + +<p><i>Sessionius.</i> What's that I see? How dare you approach. D'ye +mean to give the lie to the prophets, who say I shall not be done until +October? Away, thou tempting fancy! Begone! Stay not a moment!</p> + +<p><i>Vacatia.</i> Nay, be not angry! In days gone by thou used to +welcome me! Why is it?</p> + +<p><i>Sessionius.</i> Do you not see I cannot move? With Irish Members +and Coercion Bills, I may stay here for ever!</p> + +<blockquote><p><span class="smcap">Vacatia</span> <i>weeps, and is appeased by</i> <span class="smcap">Trippius</span>, <i>who explains that +they can go unto the seaside by the Sunday trains. Then all go +out. Then enter the</i> <span class="smcap">Excursionists</span>, <i>who sing strange songs in +praise of wine and tobacco. After a while the fun grows fast +and furious, and the Scene changes to</i>,—</p></blockquote> + +<center><span class="smcap">The Garden of Parliamentary Flowers of Speech.</span></center> + +<blockquote><p><i>First song, wherein the</i> <span class="smcap">Speaker</span> <i>works a charm by which certain +Irish Members dance a measure with sticks, and striking the +floor, then one another's coat-tails, and, lastly, one another's +heads. When this is done,</i> <span class="smcap">Harcourtius</span> <i>appears in the</i> pavan, +<i>or "peacock's strut," and marches about. He disappears, and +there is a Dance of Woodmen with hatchets by the</i> Gladstonian +Family. <i>All this ends merrily with a view of</i> <span class="smcap">Vacatia</span> <i>working +a change as</i> <span class="smcap">Trippius</span> <i>introduces a View of a possible Autumn +Session</i>.</p></blockquote> + +<hr /> + +<p>"What I want some fellow to tell me," said Mr. <span class="smcap">Duffer</span>, looking +up from an advertisement of a forthcoming sale at Aldridge's, +"is—what the dickens is the use of a <i>broken</i> sporting dog?"</p> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 50%"> +<a href="images/029a.png"> +<img src="images/029a.png" width="100%" alt=" LA PORTE!" /></a> +<h4>"À LA PORTE!"</h4> +<p><i>Wolff.</i> "<span class="smcap">Must really be going now! Had a Delightful Time +of it. Spent a lot of Money, and enjoyed myself amazingly. +Ta! Ta!</span>"</p> +<p><i>Sultan.</i> "<span class="smcap">So sorry you're going. By the way, I'll attend +to that Little Matter you came about, at the earliest +Moment possible. Ta! Ta!</span>"</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>CLEAR AS CRYSTAL; OR, ALL ABOUT IT.</h2> + +<center><i>Interior of a Railway Carriage on a Suburban Line.</i> Well-Informed +Politicians <i>discovered discussing question of the hour</i>.</center> + +<p><i>First Well-Informed Politician (summing up the situation with +confidence).</i> Well, that's how it stands. <span class="smcap">Drummond Wolff</span> has +telegraphed to say that the thing's no go, and that he can't get 'em +to sign. So he has put the Convention into his pocket, and is coming +home as fast as his legs can carry him.</p> + +<p><i>Second Well-Informed Politician (tentatively).</i> Pardon me, but I +don't think it has quite come to that, has it? He was to have left, +but the <span class="smcap">Sultan</span>, you know, asked him to wait for an audience, or +something of that sort. I saw something about it just now in the +paper.</p> + +<p class="salute">[<i>Hunts up and down the columns of the "Times" vaguely.</i></p> + +<p><i>Third Well-Informed Politician.</i> O yes, I know what you mean. +Here; it's here. (<i>Produces "Standard."</i>) Ha! this is it. (<i>Reads.</i>) +"Sir <span class="smcap">H. D. Wolff</span> was to have left yesterday, but having asked an +audience to take leave, and the <span class="smcap">Sultan</span> not having named a day for +it, his departure has been postponed."</p> + +<p><i>Second Well-Informed Politician.</i> Yes, that's it. (<i>Addressing</i> +First Well-Informed Politician <i>with more assurance</i>.) You see +there's evidently a chance of further negotiation. I shouldn't be +surprised to hear that the thing was settled yet.</p> + +<p><i>First Well-Informed Politician (with warmth).</i> Stuff, Sir—there'll +be no settlement—and a precious good job too! Who wants +any Convention? Not England. No, we're well out of it, and, +what's more, <span class="smcap">Salisbury</span> knows it.</p> + +<p><i>Third Well-Informed Politician.</i> You quite surprise me. Surely +Lord <span class="smcap">Salisbury</span> had set his heart on the signing of the Convention.</p> + +<p><i>Second Well-Informed Politician.</i> Oh yes, I'm sure of that. +Why, I've just been reading it—in the Vienna Correspondence, I +think it was. Where was it?</p> + +<p class="salute">[<i>Again commences a vague hunt up +and down the columns of the "Times."</i></p> + +<p><i>First Well-Informed Politician.</i> Nonsense—I don't care what +the "Vienna Correspondence" says. Tells a pack of lies, I'll be +bound. I tell you <span class="smcap">Salisbury's</span> no fool, and he knows when he has +got a free hand.</p> + +<p><i>Third Well-Informed Politician (slightly bewildered).</i> But I +thought the Convention, don't you know, did give him a free hand—at +least, a sort of a free hand—that's to say, that's the way I +took it.</p> + +<p><i>Second Well-Informed Politician (brightly).</i> Of course. Why +that's the reason France and Russia put the screw on the <span class="smcap">Sultan</span>.</p> + +<p><i>First Well-Informed Politician.</i> France and Russia put the screw +on! Stuff, Sir! Who cares for France and Russia? <span class="smcap">Salisbury</span> +knows a trick or two worth any game they can play.</p> + +<p><i>Fourth Well-Informed Politician (who has been waiting his chance, +putting down the "Daily News").</i> I don't suppose <i>this</i> country will +play any game, at all events, till the Grand Old Man's in again.</p> + +<p><i>First Well-Informed Politician (hotly).</i> What! The Grand Old——! Why, +Sir, what do you mean? Why it's he who's +responsible for every blessed muddle and mess, including this +Egyptian business, that has overtaken the country for the last twenty +years. Bless my soul, Sir, I can't understand your having the face +to put forward such an opinion.</p> + +<p><i>Fourth Well-Informed Politician (doggedly).</i> Oh, you may bluster, +but you won't change my view of things, I can tell you. <span class="smcap">Gladstone's</span> +the man for Egypt, and for everything else.</p> + +<p><i>First Well-Informed Politician (boiling over).</i> Confound it, Sir. +Do you wish to insult me. I'll tell you what it is, Sir, I'll—— +I'll——</p> + +<p class="salute">[<i>Left throwing more light on the situation as scene closes in.</i></p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>BLESSINGS IN DISGUISE.</h2> + +<blockquote><p>[Lord <span class="smcap">Randolph Churchill</span> said that the loss of the North Paddington +Election might prove a "blessing in disguise" to the Unionist Party.]</p></blockquote> + +<center><i>Unhappy Unionist loquitur</i>:—</center> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Oh, <span class="smcap">Grandolph</span>, <span class="smcap">Grandolph</span>, was it all your chaff?</p> +<p class="i2">I for your <i>real</i> thoughts would give a penny.</p> +<p class="i0">Of such strange "blessings" we could spare one half;</p> +<p class="i12">We have so many.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">There's <span class="smcap">Smith</span>; no doubt <i>he</i> is a blessed boon;</p> +<p class="i2">His dash, his sparkle, and his tact are wonders.</p> +<p class="i0">But why <i>does</i> he "disguise" them late and soon</p> +<p class="i12">As awkward blunders?</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Then <span class="smcap">Balfour</span>; he is courtesy's pure pink,</p> +<p class="i2">But why will he persist in masquerading</p> +<p class="i0">As cynic rudeness? Such "disguise," I think,</p> +<p class="i12">Is most degrading.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0"><span class="smcap">Matthews</span>, again! Yes, he <i>au fond</i> would bless</p> +<p class="i2">A Cabinet of angels! 'Tis surprising</p> +<p class="i0">To see him as a muddler in a mess</p> +<p class="i12">Himself "disguising."</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Then you yourself, my <span class="smcap">Grandolph</span>! Blessings flow</p> +<p class="i2">From your bold eyes and trim moustache so tufty,</p> +<p class="i0">But why, sweet benediction, choose to go</p> +<p class="i12">So much in <i>mufti</i>?</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">When you to spot our blunders use those eyes,</p> +<p class="i2">And of our errors turn astute detective,</p> +<p class="i0">Whate'er the "blessing" may be, the "disguise"</p> +<p class="i12">Is most effective.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">The "Union" Cause our Country's cause remains,</p> +<p class="i2">But oh! how long shall we remain its bosses,</p> +<p class="i0">If all our blessings come disguised as banes,</p> +<p class="i12">Our gains as losses?</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Is it, sweet optimist, too much to ask</p> +<p class="i2">That you, and all our failures, muddles, messings,</p> +<p class="i0">Should, just to comfort us, throw off the mask,</p> +<p class="i12">And come <i>as</i> blessings?</p> +</div></div> + +<hr /> + +<p>We were glad to hear that the charges brought against the London +Scottish rested upon the slightest possible foundation. There let them +rest. They will not now change their title to the London Skittish.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h4>DUMB CRAMBO AT WIMBLEDON.</h4> + +<table summary="DUMB CRAMBO AT WIMBLEDON"> +<tr> +<td><div class="figcenter" style="width: 100%"> +<img src="images/029b.png" width="100%" alt="Bar'll cool her" /> +<h4>Bar'll cool her</h4> +</div></td> +<td><div class="figcenter" style="width: 100%"> +<img src="images/029c.png" width="100%" alt="An excellent Range-Finder" /> +<h4>An excellent Range-Finder.</h4> +</div> +</td> +</tr> +</table> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%"> +<a href="images/030.png"> +<img src="images/030.png" width="100%" alt="A DAY IN THE COUNTRY" /></a> +<h4>A DAY IN THE COUNTRY.</h4> +<p><i>Little Tommy (who has never been out of Whitechapel before).</i> "<span class="smcap">Oh! Oh! Oh!</span>"</p> +<p><i>Kind Lady.</i> "<span class="smcap">What's the Matter, Tommy?</span>"</p> +<p><i>Little Tommy.</i> "<span class="smcap">Why, what a big Sky they've got 'ere, Miss!</span>"</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>AT THE NAVAL REVIEW.</h2> + +<div class="poem1"><div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Neptune (to Vulcan).</i> Hillo, Mate, <i>you</i> here?</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Vulcan.</i> Yes, my hearty; why <i>not</i>?</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0"><i>Neptune.</i> Well, my ancient monopoly's all gone to pot.</p> +<p class="i2">You've been "inching it in," for a number of years;</p> +<p class="i2">Your Lemnos no longer has charms, it appears</p> +<p class="i2">To detain you on shore. Once a Naval Review</p> +<p class="i2">To a smithy-smoked game-legged land-lubber like you——</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0"><i>Vulcan.</i> Oh, avast heaving there, Mate!</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0"><i>Neptune.</i> By Jove, he's as pat</p> +<p class="i2">At our nautical patter as <span class="smcap">Dibdin</span>, that's flat.</p> +<p class="i2">Can't you tip us "<i>Tom Bowling</i>"?</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0"><i>Vulcan.</i> Aye! (<i>sings</i>) "Here a sheer hulk"——</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0"><i>Neptune.</i> Oh, stop! <i>What</i> a voice for a chap of your bulk!</p> +<p class="i2">'Tis as shrill as a file-squeak, and equally mellow.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0"><i>Vulcan.</i> Oh yes, you old Stentor, a big breezy bellow</p> +<p class="i2">Is your <i>sole</i> idea of a song.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0"><i>Neptune (offering his 'baccy-box amicably).</i> Have a quid?</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0"><i>Vulcan.</i> I don't care if I do. But you know as a kid</p> +<p class="i2">After leaving Olympus——</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0"><i>Neptune.</i> Ha! ha! A fair "chuck."</p> +<p class="i2">Poor Juno! She felt she was quite out of luck,</p> +<p class="i2">To bear such a skinny young dot-and-go-one.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0"><i>Vulcan.</i> Oh, if these are your manners——</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0"><i>Neptune.</i> Pooh! Only my fun.</p> +<p class="i2">Fire away with your yarn. Let's see, where had you got to?</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0"><i>Vulcan.</i> You know that I lived some nine years in a grotto,</p> +<p class="i2">With Thetis, that <i>belle</i> of the Ocean, and therefore</p> +<p class="i2">I'm <i>not</i> such a land-lubber. Not that I care for</p> +<p class="i2">Your coarse briny flouts, my old Mulberry-nose.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0"><i>Neptune.</i> Humph! You've turned a teetotaller now, I suppose,</p> +<p class="i2">And should I sing "Hey! Ho! and a bottle of rum,"</p> +<p class="i2">You'd not join in the song—or the swizzle?</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0"><i>Vulcan.</i> Oh, come,</p> +<p class="i2">We have no <span class="smcap">Wilfrid Lawson</span> in Sicily yet;</p> +<p class="i2">All my Cyclops would strike. Yes! I'm game for a "wet."</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0"><i>Neptune.</i> That's hearty. Now, then, you young <span class="smcap">Triton</span>, look slippy,</p> +<p class="i2">Fetch up t'other bottle. I feel rather nippy.</p> +<p class="i2">And then the occasion! <span class="smcap">Britannia's</span> my dear,</p> +<p class="i2">We must drink to her health in this Jubilee Year.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0"><i>Vulcan.</i> I'm glad you say "We."</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0"><i>Neptune.</i> Well, I own you are "in it."</p> +<p class="i2">I wouldn't dispute your fair claims for a minute,</p> +<p class="i2">But they're thundering ugly, your new Iron Walls,</p> +<p class="i2">And when a big fight comes,—well, look out for squalls.</p> +<p class="i2">This playing at battle is all very grand,</p> +<p class="i2">But <i>I</i> think twelve-inch metal much fitter for land.</p> +<p class="i2">Wood's the stuff for the sea; that's a point in my <i>credo.</i></p> +<p class="i2">That "mount" of yours safe? I don't think a torpedo</p> +<p class="i2">A patch on a Sea-horse, or even a Triton.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0"><i>Vulcan.</i> All right! 'tisn't charged, so there's nothing to frighten.</p> +<p class="i2">Things are not now done in your toasting-fork way.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0"><i>Neptune.</i> Humph! My trident enabled <span class="smcap">Britannia</span> to sway</p> +<p class="i2">In a style that's admitted on every side;</p> +<p class="i2">Whilst your guns and torpedoes remain to be tried.</p> +<p class="i2">Your <span class="smcap">Armstrongs</span> and <span class="smcap">Whiteheads</span> may give themselves airs,</p> +<p class="i2">But they don't seem to stop periodical "scares."</p> +<p class="i2">Perhaps you may wish, when it <i>does</i> come to war,</p> +<p class="i2">For the old Man-of-war and the old pig-tailed Tar.</p> +<p class="i2">However, old boy, here's the grog. That's a bottle</p> +<p class="i2">That might have glug-glug'd down my <span class="smcap">Nelson's</span> brave throttle;</p> +<p class="i2">It's been in my cellar since Trafalgar.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0"><i>Vulcan.</i> Truly?</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0"><i>Neptune.</i> Yes. 'Tis a big day,—let us honour it duly;</p> +<p class="i2">A splendid wind-up to the Jubilee <i>fêtes</i>.</p> +<p class="i2">Well, manhood and pluck are not matters of date.</p> +<p class="i2">Let us hope, when it really does come to a tussle,</p> +<p class="i2">That brave British spirit and stout British muscle</p> +<p class="i2">May have the same pull as they did in the days</p> +<p class="i2">When "yard-arm to yard-arm" was <span class="smcap">Jack's</span> favoured phrase,</p> +<p class="i2">When death-stored torpedoes and Titan-lipped guns</p> +<p class="i2">And steel in huge masses, and fast-flying tons</p> +<p class="i2">Had never been dreamed of. Ah! Vulcan, your reign</p> +<p class="i2">Has played up rare pranks with my briny domain;</p> +<p class="i2">The jolly old days of <span class="smcap">Drake</span>, <span class="smcap">Benbow</span>, and <span class="smcap">Nelson</span>.</p> +<p class="i2">Success to Old England, short shrift to her foes;</p> +<p class="i2">My favourite, spite of all change, I confess her.</p> +<p class="i2">A bumper, my boy! Here's the <span class="smcap">Queen</span>, and God bless her!</p> +</div></div> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%"> +<a href="images/031.png"> +<img src="images/031.png" width="100%" alt="SPITHEAD, JULY 23RD, 1887" /></a> +<h4>SPITHEAD, JULY 23rd, 1887.</h4> +<p><span class="smcap">Father Neptune</span> (<i>cheerily</i>). "WHAT—VULCAN, MY HEARTY! WELL, WE'RE SHIPMATES NOW, SO HERE'S '<b>THE QUEEN!</b>'—GOD BLESS HER!!"</p> +</div> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> + +<h2>LANE AND GARDEN.</h2> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 30%"> +<a href="images/033.png"> +<img src="images/033.png" width="100%" alt="Music conductor" /></a> +</div> + +<p>"Oh, <span class="smcap">Todgers's</span> could do it when it chose! mind that." <span class="smcap">Augustus +Druriolanus</span> can "do it," too, when he chooses, mind that, and +his production of <i>Les Huguenots</i> +on Monday the 11th was +a convincing proof of this +assertion. The <i>mise-en-scène</i> +was as perfect as if the Opera +had been a brand new one. +The costumes were gorgeous, +the scenes brilliant, and the <i>jeu +de scène</i> original and artistic.</p> + +<p>Monsieur <span class="smcap">Maurel</span> was an ideal <i>Count +de Nevers</i>, a chevalier <i>sans peur et sans +reproche</i>. Miss <span class="smcap">Engle</span> won all hearts +as <i>Marguerite de Valois</i>. "<i>Non 'Engle' +sed 'Angel,'</i>" as the <span class="smcap">Pope</span> didn't say.</p> + +<p>The Page was rather weak, but made +up in action and archness—the archness +was not confined to the eyes, but was +also strikingly exhibited in another +feature—for whatever might have been +lacking vocally; and then of course +there were the two brothers, <span class="smcap">Jean</span> and +<span class="smcap">Edouard de Reszke</span>, always ready to come to the resky. We +stopped till the end, and congratulated ourselves on having heard +the very last of the <i>Huguenots</i> for the first time in our chequered +career. We saw Signor <span class="smcap">Foli</span>, as <i>Marcel</i>, perform a marriage ceremony +between <i>Valentine</i> and <i>Raoul</i>, from which fact we gathered +that the <i>Count de Nevers</i> must have been shot, otherwise <i>Valentine</i> +would be a bigamist; and, in fact, the moral position of the three +parties would be an extremely unpleasant one, in view of their +hurried departure from this wicked world, which the muskets of the +soldiers, executing the victims and the dramatist's design at the same +time, compel them to make. The band and choruses were excellent.</p> + +<p>At the Garden, on Tuesday the 12th, the new Opera, <i>La Vita per +lo Czar</i>, was produced and placed on the stage by Signor <span class="smcap">Lago</span>, as if +it had been brought out at the beginning of the season instead of the +finish. An eccentric Opera. The first Act fresh as the newly-painted +scenery: full of life, colour, and melody. It started well +with a chorus which was unanimously and enthusiastically encored. +Mme. <span class="smcap">Albani</span> was never in better voice. <span class="smcap">Gayarré</span> and <span class="smcap">Devoyod</span> +were excellent. The First Act was an undeniable success, and +everybody was happy.</p> + +<p>Then came the Second Act, all chorus, hops, and Poles. No <span class="smcap">Albani</span>, +no <span class="smcap">Gayarré</span>, no <span class="smcap">Devoyod</span>. Music pretty, but as <span class="smcap">Toby</span> in the +Essence of Parliament puts it, "Business done. None." Curtain +down: people a bit scared. Not accustomed to an Act without +Principals. Evidently such an Unprincipal'd Act must be wrong. +Act Third revived all hopes. <span class="smcap">Albani</span> the bride, <span class="smcap">Gayarré</span> the bridegroom, +<span class="smcap">Scalchi</span> the best boy, <span class="smcap">Devoyod</span> the best boy's father, a +venerable grey-headed peasant, the very reverse of the mild old +gent in <span class="smcap">Leech's</span> picture who was represented by the 'Bus cad as "a +cussin' and a swearin' like hanythink," inasmuch as he is always +either blessing somebody, uttering patriotic sentiments about the +<span class="smcap">Czar</span>, or down on his hands and knees with his nose in the dust +saying, or rather singing, his prayers.</p> + +<p>Third Act pleases everybody, raises our hopes, and then in the +Fourth Act we discover, to our amazement, that we are only to see +<span class="smcap">Scalchi</span> once again, that we have bidden farewell for ever to <span class="smcap">Albani</span> +and <span class="smcap">Gayarré</span>, and that the remainder of the Opera is to be carried +on right up to the end by the heavy father, a chorus of Poles,—all +acting well, and not a stick amongst them,—and a transparency +representing the Coronation of the <span class="smcap">Czar</span>. And though the absence +of <span class="smcap">Albani</span>, <span class="smcap">Scalchi</span>, and <span class="smcap">Gayarré</span> made everyone's heart grow +fonder, though we all missed them, yet we "pitied the sorrows of +the poor old man," admired his acting and singing in a most difficult +situation, and agreed with everybody that this strange Opera was a +decided success. The Second scene of the last Act might be curtailed +with advantage. This is speaking only dramatically; perhaps on a +second hearing we should change our opinion.</p> + +<p>However, so ends the Covent Garden Opera Season; it has finished +first,—a good first.</p> + +<hr /><br /> + +<p>The New Silver Coinage will be re-named, until it is re-called, +"The Silber-Goschen."</p><br /> + +<hr /> + +<h2>VERB. SAP.</h2> + +<center>(<i>To a Wandering Star.</i>)</center> + +<blockquote><p>"I am willing to throw in my lot with that of my friend <span class="smcap">Huxley</span>, and 'to +fight to the death' against this wicked and cowardly surrender. A desperate +gamester miscalled a Statesman, has chosen to invoke ignorant foreign opinion +against the instructed opinion of his own countrymen."—<i>Professor Tyndall's +last Letter to the Times.</i></p></blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0"><span class="smcap">Tyndall</span>, <span class="smcap">Tyndall</span>, learned star,</p> +<p class="i0">How we wonder where you are!</p> +<p class="i0">Fizzing up like penny pop,</p> +<p class="i0">Coming down on <span class="smcap">Gladstone</span> flop!</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">"Desperate gamester!" <span class="smcap">Tyndall</span> mine,</p> +<p class="i0">Such invective is <i>not</i> fine.</p> +<p class="i0">Have <i>you</i> not a card to trump,</p> +<p class="i0">Rattling <span class="smcap">Randolph</span> on the stump?</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Science in her calm retreat</p> +<p class="i0">Ought that sort of bosh to beat;</p> +<p class="i0">She, whose words should drop like gold,</p> +<p class="i0">Must not ape an angry scold.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Party scribes who rage for pay,</p> +<p class="i0">When most rabid write that way,</p> +<p class="i0">Politicians of the pot</p> +<p class="i0">Perpetrate that sort of rot.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Just suppose that W. G.,</p> +<p class="i0">Fancying your remarks too free,</p> +<p class="i0">Dubbed you, in polemic rage,</p> +<p class="i0">"Sciolist miscalled a sage."</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">How you <i>savants</i> would cry "Shame!"</p> +<p class="i0">Why should Science only claim</p> +<p class="i0">Right to be exceeding rude,</p> +<p class="i0">Sourly false and coarsely crude?</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">"Wicked! Cowardly!" Oh, bless us!</p> +<p class="i0">Hercules in the shirt of Nessus</p> +<p class="i0">Did not rage in wilder fashion</p> +<p class="i0">Than our <span class="smcap">Tyndall</span> in a passion.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Difference exists no doubt;</p> +<p class="i0">Let us calmly fight it out;</p> +<p class="i0">But to call each other names</p> +<p class="i0">Is the vulgarest of games.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Honestly one view you hold;</p> +<p class="i0">If to differ one makes bold,</p> +<p class="i0">Is it fair, Sir, to infer,</p> +<p class="i0">That he's rascal, traitor, cur?</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Pooh! That's Party's puerile plan.</p> +<p class="i0">Wisdom, Sir, should play the man.</p> +<p class="i0">Drop these tart polemic pennings,</p> +<p class="i0">Leave that sort of stuff to <span class="smcap">Jennings</span>.</p> +</div></div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>ROBERT AT THE GILDHALL BALL.</h2> + +<p>Afore the Jooblee Seesun is quite gone, I wish to rikkord my +sediments with regard to the show at Gildhall. I never, even in my +wildest dreams of rapshur, xpected to see sitch a site as I seed there. +I have, in my long perfeshnal career, seen lots of Kings, and Queens, +and Princes, and setterer, but in them cases, I mite say, in the grand +words of the old song, "Their Royaltys came by twos and twos, +hurrah, hurrah!" But on that okashun, they acshally cum by shoals; +and when they was all assembled they mustard no less than sixty-wun +true-born Royalties. Wat a site for a treu-blew Conservatif! The +mere common compny, such as Common Counselmen, and setterer, +was railed off at a respecful distance, but they stood by the hour a +gazin at 'em with rapshur, altho' none of 'em hadn't no chairs to sit +on. How they all seemed to enwy the mortal happyness of the Committee-men, +who, with their long wands, was alloud to stand inside +the sacred inklosure. I didn't see the Royal Quadreel, tho' I was +told as it wasn't anything werry pertickler as to the dancing, not at +all equal to the dancing at the Hopera. The gineral compny +seemed to suffer terribly from the want of cheers. As I passed under +the Gallery I seed one most charming Lady, drest jest like a Princess, +acshally a sitting on the floor from fatigue, and her husband a +watching over her like a garden angel, tho' he was a Feild Marshall!</p> + +<p>The world may be surprised to learn that Royalty wants its supper +jest like meer common peeple, so there was sum difficulty about +waiting on 'em, as of course they had to sup alone, with only the Lord +and Lady Maress with 'em. But one of the most xperienced gentlemen +in all London offered to do it for nothink if he mite slect his staff.</p> + +<p>"I must 'ave <span class="smcap">Robert</span> to wait on me pussunally," says a certain +Illusterious Personidge. "I'm there, your Royal Eyeness," I says, +as I persented the rosewater on my bendid nees.</p> + +<p>I had the almost crushing honner of anding ewery dellycassy of +the season and amost ewery kind of the grandest of Shampains to +such a supper party as praps Urope has never before witnessed. +I have nothing to reweal of the many strange things as I herd on +that memroble occashun, becoz we was all sworn to secrecy, as usual, +on a Carving Nife. I breaks through no law when I says that +Royalty werry much enjoyed its supper.</p> + +<p>I wundered to myself what the feelinx of Royalty must be when +they knows and sees that all they has to do to give thowsands of most +respectable peeple a feeling of rapshur amost imposserbel to realise, +is for 'em to stand still and let 'em gaze at 'em by the hour! One +wood think it might paul upon 'em after a time, but one would be rong.</p> + +<p>With the dipparcher of Royalty the great charm of the nite +was gone, the sun had set and the moon had not risen, to speak +pohetically, but the recklecshun of the Blaze of Royalty that they had +been alloud to gaze on, will last them for long ears and be told to +children yet unborn as the crowning glory of their blessed lives.</p> + +<p class="author"><span class="smcap">Robert.</span></p> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 60%"> +<a href="images/034.png"> +<img src="images/034.png" width="100%" alt="HOPE FOR ALL" /></a> +<h4>HOPE FOR ALL.</h4> +<p><i>"Coach" (to Volatile Pupil).</i> "<span class="smcap">Are you at Theorem B or C, Mr. Titterby</span>?"</p> +<p><i>Mr. T.</i> "<span class="smcap">T' tell y' th' truth, Sir, I'm 'at Sea'—at Sea, Sir,—completely</span>." [<i>Chuckles.</i> +(<i>He turned out an utter failure, was plucked at College, and had to take to <span class="smcap">Art-Criticism</span>!</i>)]</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>"MARGARINE."</h2> + +<center>(<i>A Middleman's Lament.</i>)</center> + +<blockquote><p>"For the protection of the public, all +consignments of the spurious compound +that has hitherto, under the title of +'Butterine,' passed current in the market +for genuine butter, will in future be +distinctly labelled and known as 'Margarine.'"—<i>Trade +Intelligence.</i></p></blockquote> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Ah! tell me not they've changed thy name,</p> +<p class="i2">So long a sweet decoy,</p> +<p class="i0">By which I've made my little game,</p> +<p class="i2">And palmed off thy alloy.</p> +<p class="i0">Of chemicals and horses' fat,</p> +<p class="i2">And things not nice or clean,</p> +<p class="i0">You were composed; but what of that?—</p> +<p class="i0">You looked like butter in the pat.</p> +<p class="i2">Why call you "Margarine"?</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Ah! why the public undeceive?</p> +<p class="i2">They bought thee with a will,</p> +<p class="i0">And in thy virtues so believe</p> +<p class="i2">That they would buy thee still!</p> +<p class="i0">Why have such meddling measures framed</p> +<p class="i2">By legislation mean?</p> +<p class="i0">Alas! thy origin's proclaimed;</p> +<p class="i0">No more with butter art thou named,</p> +<p class="i2">But henceforth "Margarine"!</p> +</div></div> + +<hr /> + +<h4>INÆSTHETIC ÆDILES.</h4> + +<p>Bad luck to the Board of Works in their project of demolishing the +steps, and disfiguring the platform of St. Martin's Church, on the mere +pretence of widening the entrance of the proposed Charing Cross Road. +All my eye and <span class="smcap">Betty</span>—namesake, but no relation to the Saint. +Convenience is a mere cloak for their unnecessary Vandalism, a cloak +which St. Martin would never have divided with tasteless beggars.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>LARKS FOR LEGISLATORS.</h2> + +<blockquote><p>"There would be no departure from the most highly respectable precedents +in holding open-air sittings of the House of Commons, while its advantages in +the hot weather, as regards not only physical comfort, but mental and moral +fitness for the work of the senator, are too obvious to need enumeration."</p></blockquote> + +<p class="author"><i>Daily Paper.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Scene</span>—<i>The Grounds of the Crystal Palace. The House of +Commons assembled in the Rosary; Reporters (armed with +speaking trumpets) in the Band Stand and on branches of Trees.</i></p> + +<p><i>The Speaker (in his shirt-sleeves).</i> Order, order! I must request +Members to abstain from touching the Fireworks till the evening.</p> + +<p><i>Dr. Tanner.</i> I rise to a point of order, Sir. What are we to do if +it rains? I see no preparation for rigging up an awning over us, and +I must protest against this cowardly attempt on the part of the +Government to stifle, or perhaps I ought to say drown, discussion, +and——</p> + +<p><i>The Speaker (interposing).</i> If the Hon. Member talks of rain +before it comes, I shall have to suspend him—ahem!—from the +nearest tree. (<i>Laughter.</i>) The first Order of the Day is the +Adjourned Discussion on the London Local Government Bill.</p> + +<p><i>Sir W. Harcourt.</i> Before the discussion begins I should like to ask +your opinion, Sir, whether it is in order for the First Lord of the +Treasury to go off to the tobogganing slide instead of stopping to +answer questions? ("<i>Hear! hear!</i>")</p> + +<p><i>The Speaker.</i> The question is one of some difficulty. I have carefully +examined the precedents, but there is no mention of tobogganing +in the records of this House. I must therefore leave the matter to +the good sense and powers of self-restraint of Hon. and Right Hon. +Members. (<i>Cheers.</i>)</p> + +<p><i>The Attorney-General (resuming the Debate on the London +Government Bill).</i> A very much better idea of the different municipal +districts into which the Metropolis will be mapped out can be +obtained by ascending the great Water-Towers, and I therefore +propose an adjournment of half an hour for that purpose.</p> + +<p class="regards">[<i>The Motion is agreed to without a Division. On the expiration of +the time an Hon. Member, who is indistinctly heard by the Reporters, +is understood to propose that the selling of lemonade at +sixpence a glass, without ice, to Members of Parliament constitutes +a breach of the Privileges of the House, but is ruled out of +order.</i></p> + +<p><i>The Speaker.</i> I call on the <span class="smcap">Attorney-General</span> to resume his +speech.</p> + +<p class="regards">[<i>Ineffectual search, made all about the Rosary for the</i> <span class="smcap">Attorney-General</span>.</p> + +<p><i>An Irish Member.</i> Try the Switch-Back Railway.</p> + +<p class="regards">[<i>Laughter, and cries of "There isn't one!"</i></p> + +<p>Another Member thought that very probably the learned Gentleman +had looked in behind the scenes at the Open-air Ballet.</p> + +<p class="regards">[<i>More Laughter.</i></p> + +<p>The Member for the Tower Hamlets (resuming the discussion) +proceeded to dilate on the necessity of more communications being +established between the North and South banks of the River, in any +scheme for Municipal Reform, and alluding to the Tower Bridge +erected in the grounds, remarked that of course Members knew that +in half-an-hour the time would have arrived for it to be illuminated, +and for the "Fire-Portraits of Mr. <span class="smcap">Parnell</span> and all his followers" +to be lighted (<i>general cheering</i>), and he therefore moved, as a matter +of urgent public importance, that the House do now adjourn, especially +as he had felt a few drops of rain, and had forgotten to +bring his umbrella.</p> + +<p><i>The Speaker.</i> Those who are in favour of adjournment say "Aye." +(<i>No response.</i>) Those who are against it——why, bless me, there's +nobody left! Even the Sergeant-at-Arms has gone off to see the +ballet! How Unparliamentary! Surely those figures coming down +the toboggan-slide can't be Mr. <span class="smcap">Gladstone</span> and Sir <span class="smcap">William Harcourt</span>, +racing Mr. <span class="smcap">Smith</span> and the <span class="smcap">Home Secretary</span>? Why, I +believe it is so. How exciting it looks! Well, this adjourning at +nine o'clock is much nicer, after all, than the old late hours. Al +fresco sittings rather a success. Feel rather all-frisky myself. +Think I'll go off and try a toboggan.</p> + +<p class="regards">[<i>Left sliding.</i></p> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%"> +<a href="images/035.png"> +<img src="images/035.png" width="100%" alt="MR. PUNCH'S PARLIAMENTARY NAVAL REVIEW" /></a> +<h4>MR. PUNCH'S PARLIAMENTARY NAVAL REVIEW.</h4> +<center>(<i>Fac-simile of Sketch made by Our Special Artist on the spot.</i>)</center> +</div> +<hr /> + +<h2>ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.</h2> + +<h4>EXTRACTED FROM</h4> + +<h3>THE DIARY OF TOBY, M.P.</h3> + +<p><i>House of Commons, Monday, July 11.</i>—Another Child of Victory +up to-day in person of <span class="smcap">Ballantine</span>, who won Coventry for the +Liberals. "We shall have quite a family soon," said <span class="smcap">Gladstone</span>, +who sat on Front Bench, arrayed in wonderful summer suit. +"Blessings in disguise," <span class="smcap">Grandolph</span> calls the new recruits to Opposition +forces. But it comes to same thing.</p> + +<p>Old Morality created sensation by openly avowing himself a Separatist. +Is firm with respect to Union with Wales and Ireland, but +weak on Scotland. Confession made in connection with promised +Boundary Bill. <span class="smcap">Puleston</span> asked whether Wales was to be included +in measure.</p> + +<p>"I have not been able," said <span class="smcap">Ritchie</span>, with fine sarcasm, "to +separate Wales from England in my own mind."</p> + +<p>"Is Scotland in the Bill?" asked <span class="smcap">Anderson</span>.</p> + +<p>"No," said Old Morality.</p> + +<p>"Then," said <span class="smcap">Tim Healy</span>, "you separate Scotland in your own +mind?" This was awkward; but the truth must be told, and Old +Morality told it.</p> + +<p>"I separate Scotland in my own mind," he said, in a voice low but +firm.</p> + +<p>Profound sensation on Ministerial Benches. Things looking bad +for Ministry lately, what with Spalding, North Paddington, Coventry, +and Miss <span class="smcap">Cass</span>. But now, Leader of House having avowed himself a +Separatist, outlook black indeed.</p> + +<p>Elated with having brought out this damaging fact, <span class="smcap">Tim Healy</span> +went on rampage for rest of sitting. <span class="smcap">Arthur Balfour</span> moved +Second Reading of Irish Land Bill. <span class="smcap">Chamberlain</span>, breaking long +silence, delivered speech in support of measure. <span class="smcap">Tim</span> kept up +running commentary, growling, laughing spasmodically, and interjecting +remarks. <span class="smcap">Chamberlain</span> an ugly customer to tackle when at +bay. Gave <span class="smcap">Tim</span> as much as he brought. Wrangling getting a little +high, when <span class="smcap">Speaker</span> interposed, threatened to name <span class="smcap">Tim</span>.</p> + +<p>"Name away!" <span class="smcap">Tim</span> sang out, cheerily; but knowing from +experience that <span class="smcap">Speaker</span> not to be trifled with, presently subsided.</p> + +<p>On the whole a small House, and only whilst <span class="smcap">Chamberlain</span> +speaking any evidence of interest in proceedings. Next to the +unexpected disclosure of Old Morality's falling away, most startling +event of the evening was announcement by <span class="smcap">Ferguson</span> that <span class="smcap">Wolff's</span> +pic-nic had already cost the country £27,000.</p> + +<p>"£27,000!" exclaimed <span class="smcap">Coddington</span>, making his maiden speech, +and that <i>sotto voce</i>. "I'll undertake to say that if it had been +proposed to him at first, <span class="smcap">Wolff</span> would have taken the odd seven +thousand and closed the bargain, leaving the tax-payer a clear gain +of £20,000." And the Member for Blackburn softly whistled, and +feebly rattled the loose change in his pocket.</p> + +<p><i>Business done.</i>—Irish Land Bill introduced.</p> + +<p><i>Tuesday.</i>—<span class="smcap">Wolff</span> at door of both Houses. In fact he's there +every night now. Peers and Commons are Unionists in desire to know +when the pic-nic will be over, or, as <span class="smcap">Bryce</span> put it to-night amid +cheers, "When will finally and positively terminate the unparalleled +and undignified position in which the country is placed?" In Lords +the Markiss disowned a capital retort the reporters invented for him. +On Monday, <span class="smcap">Rosebery</span> understood to ask whether <span class="smcap">Wolff</span> was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> +supposed to be in a state of suspended animation what time the +<span class="smcap">Sultan</span> made up his mind. The Markiss reported to have replied +that <span class="smcap">Wolff</span> was "rather in a state of animated +expectancy." Capital capping of a joke, only it +appears Markiss isn't personally responsible for it.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 20%"> +<a href="images/036a.png"> +<img src="images/036a.png" width="100%" alt="£27,000" /></a> +<h4>"£27,000!"</h4> +</div> + +<p>"It would," he said, with a wink at <span class="smcap">Granville</span>, +"be disrespectful to use language like that with +respect to Her Majesty's Ambassador."</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Herschel</span> says, Markiss is only mad +because he didn't think of it at the time, +and is jealous of the more nimble fancy of +the reporters. In the Commons, <span class="smcap">Bryce</span> +announces that he will continue nightly to +inquire about <span class="smcap">Wolff</span> till he gets satisfactory +answers.</p> + +<p>A hot dull night and the Irish Land Bill +again. <span class="smcap">John Dillon</span> had the best of it, +delivering a lively speech to full audience. +After this, Members began to go to dinner, +and forgot to return. A full muster on +both Front Benches. <span class="smcap">Gladstone</span> again in +summer costume, with a rose in his coat +and a gleam in his eye. Has grown ten +years younger in the last fortnight. +Spalding wiped off five years, North Paddington +two, and Coventry the rest.</p> + +<p>"A few more triumphs at the poll," +says <span class="smcap">John Morley</span>, "and he'll be younger +than any of us."</p> + +<p>After dinner, <span class="smcap">Gorst</span> made a speech on +behalf of Bill. Shrewd, pointed, and +weighty with argument. "Another proof +of fatuity of Government," said <span class="smcap">Parnell</span>, +who has come back in a brown billycock +hat, "that they don't make more use of +<span class="smcap">Gorst</span>. Worth a bushelful of <span class="smcap">Georgy Hamiltons</span>, <span class="smcap">Gibsons</span>, +<span class="smcap">Matthewses</span>, or even <span class="smcap">Smiths</span>."</p> + +<p>When spirits of House properly attuned, <span class="smcap">H. C. E. Childers</span> appeared on +the scene, and delivered prodigious speech, through which the few +Members present gently dozed.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 17%"> +<a href="images/036b.png"> +<img src="images/036b.png" width="100%" alt="cartoon of H. C. E. Childers" /></a> +<h4>H(ere) C(omes) E(verybody) Ch-ld-rs.</h4> +</div> + +<p><i>Business done.</i>—Irish Land Bill.</p> + +<p><i>Thursday.</i>—Cheerful presence of <span class="smcap">Ashbourne</span> diffused over +Ministerial Bench in Lords to-night. Not often here. Has given up to +Dublin what was meant for mankind. Always unfeignedly delighted to get +back to Westminster. Business to-night to move the Second Reading of +Coercion Bill. Considerable gathering of Peers, expecting debate, and +possible division. Amazed to find Front Opposition Bench almost empty. +<span class="smcap">Granville</span> rises to explain that it is useless to fight measure, and +therefore don't intend to raise debate. <span class="smcap">Argyll</span> furious. Had meant to +smash Opposition, and they had run away! <span class="smcap">Selborne</span> sleekly sarcastic. +Admitted he, too, had speech ready, but would wait for audience on Front +Bench opposite. General feeling of disappointment. Several Peers who had +come down, expecting lively entertainment, wanted their money returned +at the doors. Markiss referred them to <span class="smcap">Granville</span>, but <span class="smcap">Granville</span> had +already smiled his way out. Bill read Second Time, and sitting comically +collapsed.</p> + +<p>Commons crowded. <span class="smcap">Grandolph's</span> name underlined on the bills. +Understood he meant to "go for" the Government. Expectation +fully realised. Took the Land Bill out of <span class="smcap">Balfour's</span> hands, publicly +danced on it, kicked it up and down floor of House, and finally +tore it to shreds.</p> + +<p>"I trust," he said, when, at end of hour's exercise of this kind, +nothing was left of the Bill but its title, "that I have not by these +observations added to the difficulties of the situation."</p> + +<p>"Not at all, not at all," said Old Morality, polite to the last.</p> + +<p>After <span class="smcap">Grandolph's</span> finished performance, <span class="smcap">Harcourt</span> a little heavy. +Humour rose to highest level when he alluded to <span class="smcap">Jesse Collings</span> as +"the Member for Three Acres and a Cow." <span class="smcap">Henry James</span> deeply +offended at levity of <span class="smcap">Harcourt's</span> tone. This last hit too much for +him. Rose and quitted House amid hilarious cheers from Parnellites.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 30%"> +<a href="images/036c.png"> +<img src="images/036c.png" width="100%" alt="That's the worst of these fellows" /></a> +<h4>"That's the worst of these fellows."</h4> +</div> + +<p>"That's the worst of these fellows," said Mr. <span class="smcap">Leahy</span>, looking on +reflectively from the Bar. "Now they've begun to associate with +gentlemen, our company's not good enough for them."</p> + +<p>More speeches, including one from +<span class="smcap">Parnell</span> and another from <span class="smcap">Gladstone</span>. +But <span class="smcap">Grandolph's</span> speech +worth more than a division; so Second +Reading of Land Bill passed without +challenging one. <i>Business done.</i>—Lords +read Coercion Bill Second Time, +Commons the Land Bill.</p> + +<p><i>House of Lords, Friday.</i>—Glad it's all over, and nobody shot. At +one time homicide seemed imminent. <span class="smcap">Granville</span>, taking note of complaint +of absence of Opposition on previous night, skilfully touched a chord of +human nature. Explained that he had been present till eight o'clock, an +hour which suggested dinner. More than one mouth watered, and a sob of +sympathy was heard from Bench where new Peer, formerly known as <span +class="smcap">Sclater-Booth</span>, sat. <span class="smcap">Northbrook</span>, however, obdurate. +Introduced statement, which drew from <span class="smcap">Granville</span> quiet remark, "That is +not true." <span class="smcap">Northbrook</span> hotly resumed his seat, as he said, to give <span +class="smcap">Granville</span> opportunity for explanation. Here was a pretty +go! <span class="smcap">Lord Chancellor</span>, with great presence of mind, adroitly, and +apparently accidentally, covered Sword of State under heap of papers. +Who could say what might happen if a bloodthirsty eye rested on this +fortuitous means of attack? <span class="smcap">Granville</span>, cool and self-possessed, repeated +his abrupter ejaculations in more delicate, round-about fashion.</p> + +<p>"I certainly," he observed, defiantly eyeing <span class="smcap">Northbrook</span>, "said, +as far as my knowledge goes, the statement is inaccurate."</p> + +<p>A moment's breathless silence. The offence was repeated, with +the added insult of mocking phrase. Would <span class="smcap">Northbrook</span> ask <span class="smcap">Granville</span> +to "come outside," or would he swallow the affront? <span class="smcap">Northbrook</span> +looked a moment at the veteran Leader, noted his resolute +look, his straightened figure, and the forefinger of his right hand +dallying with a corner of a paper containing the Orders of the day, +as if he were playing with pistol-trigger. On the whole, he thought +he'd change the subject; which he did, to the relief of the excited +ring of spectators. <i>Business done.</i>—Lords passed two stages of +Coercion Bill right off. Commons in Supply.</p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%"> +<a href="images/036d.png"> +<img src="images/036d.png" width="100%" alt="SIR WILLIAM'S SKETCH OF THE GIPSIES" /></a> +<h4>SIR WILLIAM'S SKETCH OF THE GIPSIES ON THE TREASURY +BENCH, <span class="smcap">July</span> 14.</h4> +<p>"Gipsies, said the play, disfigured the children they stole in order that +they might pass them for their own. (<i>Laughter.</i>) The gipsies on the +Treasury Bench (<i>renewed laughter</i>) stole the Bankruptcy Clauses of the Right +Hon. Member for West Birmingham, and disfigured them in order that they +might pass them for their own. (<i>Cheers and laughter.</i>)"</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<p>New Novel, dedicated to Dr. <span class="smcap">Jackson</span> of New York: <i>The Coming +Man; or, The Lost Hair of the Ages</i>. By <span class="smcap">Balder Dash</span>.</p> + +<hr /><br /> + +<center>Mrs. <span class="smcap">Ram</span> says, of all uniforms she prefers that of the Horrible +Artillery Company.</center><br /> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 45px;"> +<img src="images/036.gif" width="45" height="20" alt="Pointing finger" /> +</div> + +<p>NOTICE.—Rejected Communications or Contributions, whether MS., Printed Matter, Drawings, or Pictures of any description, will +in no case be returned, not even when accompanied by a Stamped and Addressed Envelope, Cover, or Wrapper. To this rule +there will be no exception.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume +93, July 23, 1887., by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, CHARIVARI, JULY 23, 1887 *** + +***** This file should be named 32804-h.htm or 32804-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/2/8/0/32804/ + +Produced by Neville Allen, Malcolm Farmer and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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