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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, May 31, 1890 + +Author: Various + +Editor: Sir Francis Burnand + +Release Date: July 28, 2010 [EBook #33281] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI *** + + + + +Produced by Lesley Halamek, Malcolm Fraser and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + + <hr class="full" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page253" id="page253"></a>[pg 253]</span> +<h1>Punch, or the London Charivari</h1> + +<h2>Volume 98, May 31st 1890</h2> + +<h3>edited by Sir Francis Burnand</h3> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<h2>VOCES POPULI.</h2> + +<h3>IN THE MALL ON DRAWING-ROOM DAY.</h3> + +<blockquote><p> +<i>The line of carriages bound for Buckingham Palace is moving by +slow stages down the Drive. A curious but not uncritical crowd, +consisting largely of females, peer into the carriages as they pass, +and derive an occult pleasure from a glimpse of a satin train and +a bouquet. Other spectators circulate behind them, roving from +carriage to carriage, straining and staring in at the occupants +with the childlike interest of South Sea Islanders. The coachmen +and footmen gaze impassively before them, ignoring the +crowd to the best of their ability. The ladies in the carriages +bear the ordeal of popular inspection with either haughty +resignation, elaborate unconsciousness, or amused tolerance, and +it is difficult to say which demeanour provokes the greatest +resentment in the democratic breast.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<p><span class="ind"><i>Chorus of Female Spectators.</i></span> We shall see better here than what +we did last Droring-Room. Law, 'ow it <i>did</i> come down, too, pouring +the 'ole day. I was that sorry for the poor 'orses!... Oh, that one +<i>was</i> nice, <span class="sc">Marire</span>! Did you see 'er train?—all flame-coloured +satting—<i>lovely</i>! +Ain't them flowers beautiful? Oh, <span class="sc">Liza</span>, <i>'ere's</i> a pore +skinny-lookin' thing coming next—look +at 'er pore dear arms, all +bare! But dressed 'andsome +enough.... That's a Gineral in +there, see? He's 'olding his +cocked 'at on his knee to save the +feathers—him and her have been +'aving words, apparently ... Oh, +I <i>do</i> like this one. I s'pose that's +her Mother with her—well, yes, +o' course it <i>may</i> be her Aunt?</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 400px"><a href="images/253-800.png"><img src="images/253-400.png" width="400" height="447" alt="EXCHANGE NO ROBBERY." /></a> +<h4>EXCHANGE NO ROBBERY.</h4></div> + +<p><span class="ind"><i>A Sardonic Loafer.</i></span> 'Ullo, 'ere's +a 'aughty one! layin' back and +puttin' up 'er glorses! Know us +agen, Mum, won't you? You +may well look—you ain't seen so +much in yer ole life as what +you're seein' to-day, <i>I</i>'ll lay! +Ah, you ought to feel honoured, +too, all of us comin' out to look +at yer. Drored 'er blind down, +this one 'as, yer see—knew she +wasn't wuth looking at!</p> + +<blockquote><p>[<i>A carriage passes; the footman +on the box is adorned by an +enormous nosegay, over which +he can just see.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p><span class="ind"><i>First Comic Cockney.</i></span> Ow, I +s'y—you <i>'ave</i> come out in bloom, +<span class="sc">Johnny</span>!</p> + +<p><span class="ind"><i>Second C. C.</i></span> Ah, they've bin +forcin' <i>'im</i> under glorse, they'ave! +'Is Missis 'll never find 'im under +all them flowers. Ow, 'e smoiled +at me through the brornches!</p> + +<blockquote><p>[<i>Another carriage passes, the +coachman and footmen of +which are undecorated.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p><span class="ind"><i>First C. C.</i> Shime!</span>—they might +ha' stood yer a penny bunch o' voilets between yer, that they might!</p> + +<p><span class="ind"><i>The Sardonic L.</i></span> 'Ere 's a swell turn-out and no mistake—with a +couple o' bloomin' beadles standin' be'ind! There's a full-fed 'un +inside of it too,—look at the dimonds all over 'er bloomin' old nut. +<i>My</i> eye! (<i>The elderly dowager inside produces a cut-glass scent-bottle +of goodly size.</i>) Ah, she's got a drop o' the right sort in there—see +her sniffin at it—it won't take 'er long to mop up that little lot!</p> + +<p><span class="ind"><i>Jeames (behind the carriage, to</i></span> <span class="sc">Chawles</span>). Our old geeser's +perdoocin' the custimary amount o' sensation, eh, <span class="sc">Chawley</span>?</p> + +<p><span class="ind"><i>Chawles (under notice).</i></span> Well, thank 'Eving, I shan't have to +share the responsibility of her <i>much</i> longer!</p> + +<p><span class="ind"><i>'Arriet (to</i></span> <span class="sc">Arry</span>). I wonder they don't get tired o' being stared +at like they are.</p> + +<p><span class="ind"><i>'Arry.</i></span> Bless your 'art—<i>they</i> don't mind—they <i>like</i> it. +They'll go 'ome and s'y (<i>in falsetto</i>) "Ow, Pa, all the bloomin' crowd kep' +on a lookin' at us through the winder—it <i>was</i> proime!"</p> + +<p><span class="ind"><i>'Arriet (giggling admiringly).</i></span> 'Ow do <i>you</i> know the w'y they tork?</p> + +<p><span class="ind"><i>'Arry (superior).</i></span> Why, they don't tork partickler different from +what you and me tork—do they?</p> + +<p><span class="ind"><i>First Mechanic.</i></span> See all them old blokes in red with the rum 'ats, +<span class="sc">Bill</span>? They're Beefeaters goin' to the Pallis, they are.</p> + +<p><span class="ind"><i>Second M.</i></span> What do they do when they git there?</p> + +<p><span class="ind"><i>First M.</i> Do?</span> oh, mind the bloomin' stair-case, and chuck out +them as don't beyave themselves.</p> + +<p><span class="ind"><i>A Restless Lady (to her husband).</i></span> <span class="sc">Harry</span>, I don't like this place +at all. I'm sure we could see better somewhere else. Do let's try +and squeeze in somewhere lower down ... No, this is worse—that +<i>horrid</i> tobacco! Suppose we cross over to the Palace? [<i>They do so.</i></p> + +<p><span class="ind"><i>A Policeman.</i></span> Too late to cross now, Sir—go back please.</p> + +<blockquote><p>[<i>They go back and take up a position in front of the crowd on +the curbstone.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p><span class="ind"><i>The R. L.</i> There</span>, we shall see beautifully here, <span class="sc">Harry</span>.</p> + +<p><span class="ind"><i>A Crusty Matron (talking at the R. L. and her husband.)</i></span> Well, +I'm sure, some persons have got a cheek, coming in at the last +minnit and standing in front of those that have stood here hours—that's +ladylike, I <i>don't</i> think! Nor yet, I didn't come here to have +my eye poked out by other parties' pairosols.</p> + +<blockquote><p>[<i>Continues in this strain until the R. L. can stand it no longer, +and urges her husband to depart.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p><span class="ind"><i>Chorus of Policemen.</i></span> Pass along there, please, one way <i>or</i> the +other—keep moving there, Sir.</p> + +<p><span class="ind"><i>The R. L.</i></span> But where are we to <i>go</i>—we must stand <i>somewhere</i>?</p> + +<p><span class="ind"><i>A Policeman.</i></span> Can't stand anywhere 'ere, Mum.</p> + +<blockquote><p>[<i>The unhappy couple are passed on from point to point, until +they are finally hemmed in at a spot from which it is +impossible to see anything whatever.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p><span class="ind"><i>Harry.</i></span> If you had only been content to stay where you were at +first, we should have been all right!</p> + +<p><span class="ind"><i>The R. L.</i> Nonsense</span>, it is all +your fault, you <i>are</i> the most +hopeless person to go anywhere +with. Why didn't you tell one +of those policemen <i>who we were</i>?</p> + +<p><span class="ind"><i>Harry.</i></span> Why? Well, because +I didn't see one who looked as if +it would interest him, if you want +to know.</p> + +<h4><span class="sc">The Royal Carriages are Approaching.</span></h4> + +<p><span class="ind"><i>Chorus of Loyal Ladies of +Various Ages.</i></span> There—they're +clearing the way—the Prince and +Princess won't be long now. +Here's the Life Guards' Band—don't +they look byootiful in those +dresses? Won't that poor drummer's +arms ache to-morrow? +This is the escort coming now.... +'Ere come the Royalties. Don't +push so, <span class="sc">Polly</span>, you can see without +that!... There, that was +the Prince in the first one—did +yer see him, <span class="sc">Polly</span>? Oh, yes, +leastwise I see the end of a cocked +'at, which I took to be 'im. Yes, +<i>that</i> was 'im right enough.... +There goes the Princess—<i>wasn't</i> +she looking nice? I couldn't +exactly make out which was her +and which was the two young +Princesses, they went by all in a +flash like, but they <i>did</i> look +nice!... 'Ere's another Royalty +in this kerridge—'oo will she be, +I wonder? Oh, I expect it would be the old Duchess of—— No, I +don't think it was <i>'er</i>,—she wasn't looking pleasant enough,—and +she's dead, too.... Now they have got inside—'ark at them +playing bits of "<i>God Save the Queen</i>." Well, I'm glad I've +seen it.</p> + +<p><span class="ind"><i>A Son (to cheery old Lady).</i></span> 'Ow are you gettin' on, Mother, eh?</p> + +<p><span class="ind"><i>Ch. O. L.</i></span> First-rate, thankee, <span class="sc">John</span>, my boy.</p> + +<p><span class="ind"><i>Son.</i></span> You ain't tired standing about so long?</p> + +<p><span class="ind"><i>Ch. O. L.</i></span> Lor' bless you, no. Don't you worry about <i>me</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="ind"><i>Son.</i></span> Could you see 'em from where you was?</p> + +<p><span class="ind"><i>Ch. O. L.</i></span> I could see all the coachmen's 'ats beautiful. We'll +wait and see 'em all come out, <span class="sc">John</span>, won't we? They won't be more +than an hour and a half in there, I dessay.</p> + +<p><span class="ind"><i>A Person with a Florid Vocabulary.</i></span> Well, if I'd ha' known all +I was goin' to see was a set o' blanky nobs shut up in their blank-dash +kerridges, blank my blanky eyes if I'd ha' stirred a blanky +foot, s'elp me Dash, I wouldn't!</p> + +<p><span class="ind"><i>A Vendor (persuasively).</i></span> The kerrect lengwidge of hevery flower +that blows—one penny!</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/double_rule-1.png" width="250" height="10" alt="double rule" border="0" /></div> + +<p>"<span class="sc">Allowed to Starve.</span>"—<i>Mr. Punch</i> begs to acknowledge contribution +from "<span class="sc">Paisley</span>" to "The Light Brigade Fund," which +has been forwarded to the Editor of the <i>St. James's Gazette</i>, who +has charge of this Fund.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page254" id="page254"></a>[pg 254]</span> + +<h4>THE AUTOCRAT.</h4> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px"><a href="images/254-1500.png"><img src="images/254-400.png" width="400" height="494" alt="THE AUTOCRAT." /></a> +</div> + +<blockquote><p> +"Here is my last request and legacy! After we are executed, and while the impression of this epilogue of all these horrors is still fresh in +the minds of the people, do your utmost to make this new example of the unparalleled cruelty of Russian despotism known to the whole world.... +This is a great task well worth accomplishing; and if you succeed, the losses we suffered in that terrible butchery will be redeemed."—<i>From the +last letter, written just before his execution, of Nicholas Zotoff, one of the victims of the Yakoutsk massacre.</i> +</p></blockquote> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="sc">Let</span> it be known! Poor soul, of unshaken trust,</p> +<p class="i2">So done to death in the gloom of the Kara waste,</p> +<p>'Midst a myriad nameless victims of fear and lust,</p> +<p class="i2">Your cry comes, borne on the chainless winds that haste</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page255" id="page255"></a>[pg 255]</span> +<p>In shuddering flight away from that frozen hell,</p> +<p class="i2">That pestilent prison for all things free and fair,</p> +<p>Where the raven's croak is the patriot's only knell</p> +<p class="i12"> On the tainted air.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Let it be known! Aye! the cruel secret crawls,</p> +<p class="i2">Despite the vigilant watch of tyranny's hounds,</p> +<p>From the scaffold's screen, from the kamera's sombre walls;</p> +<p class="i2">Away, as you wished, o'er enfranchised lands it sounds,</p> +<p>And shocks the gentle, and stirs the blood of the strong;</p> +<p class="i2">But he, the Autocrat, sits, with a shaken mind,</p> +<p>And a palsied heart; to the tale of horror and wrong</p> +<p class="i12"> He's deaf and blind!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Pale ladies lashed, at the word of a drunken brute,</p> +<p class="i2">To the death they welcome e'en from the torturing "plet!"</p> +<p>And his eyes are blind, and his trembling lips are mute,</p> +<p class="i2">Whilst the eyes of a world of shuddering men are wet.</p> +<p>Chained gangs of patriot captives stabbed or shot</p> +<p class="i2">At the scared caprice of a bully, craven-souled!</p> +<p>And the Autocrat, whilst all hearts with shame wax hot,</p> +<p class="i12"> Sits still and cold!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Ust-Kara's far, and the hasty scaffold reared</p> +<p class="i2">In the grey of the early morning bore—a fool,</p> +<p>Who had not learned that Law must be blindly feared,</p> +<p class="i2">Though sent to the stern Siberian wastes to school.</p> +<p>The unconvicted exile who dares to lift</p> +<p class="i2">A voice, a hand, is a proven "Terrorist."</p> +<p>And if, in Yakoutsk, he is given a shortish shrift,</p> +<p class="i12"> Need the White <span class="sc">Tzar</span> list?</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>The White <span class="sc">Tzar</span> sits on his gorgeous seat, alone;</p> +<p class="i2">Blindfold and deaf, in his realm the veriest slave,</p> +<p>Though the seat he fills is the rack men call a Throne,</p> +<p class="i2">And the <span class="sc">Tzar</span> is a stalwart Titan, strong and brave.</p> +<p>Strong—yet helpless as yon slain woman's hand;</p> +<p class="i2">Brave—but shaken through with a haunting Fear.</p> +<p>Of all his myrmidons' devilries done in the land</p> +<p class="i12"> The last to hear!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Let it be known! Poor <span class="sc">Zotoff's</span> legacy wakes</p> +<p class="i2">A living echo in every ear humane.</p> +<p>E'en the Autocrat in his lonely splendour quakes</p> +<p class="i2">At the vague vast sounds of menace no bonds restrain.</p> +<p>But there, in the heart of horrors, he sits and sighs,</p> +<p class="i2">Blindfold Injustice bound to a joyless throne;</p> +<p>Whilst far the voice of his fallen victim flies—</p> +<p class="i12"> "<i>Let it be known!</i>"</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px"><a href="images/255-800.png"><img src="images/255-400.png" width="400" height="430" alt="A DISTINCTION AND A DIFFERENCE." /></a> +<h4>A DISTINCTION AND A DIFFERENCE.</h4> + +<p>"Now what are the peculiar Distinctions of the Quakers? For +instance, how do they Speak differently From You and Me?"</p> + +<p>"Please, Sir, they don't Swear!"</p></div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>MR. PUNCH'S DICTIONARY OF PHRASES.</h2> + +<h3><span class="sc">Social.</span></h3> + +<p class="ind1">"<i>Just want five minutes' chat with you</i>;"<br /> +<i>i.e.</i>, "He'll give me a cigar and something to drink, and as I've nothing to do for half an +hour, this will occupy me pleasantly."</p> + +<p class="ind1">"<i>Yes; I quite understand</i>;"<br /> +<i>i.e.</i>, "I don't know what he is talking about, but he's a bore."</p> + +<p class="ind1">"<i>Wouldn't tell it to anyone but you</i>;"<br /> +<i>i.e.</i>, "This will ensure its circulation."</p> + +<h3><span class="sc">Platformulars.</span></h3> + +<p class="ind1">"<i>As the Laureate well puts it, in lines that will live for ever</i>;" <br /> +<i>i.e.</i>, "I'm perfectly dead certain I've forgotten the third line of the verse."</p> + +<p class="ind1">"<i>The clock warns me that I am trespassing too long on your patience</i>;"<br /> +<i>i.e.</i>, "Haven't said half of what I meant to say. Why the dickens don't they say, 'Go on!'"</p> + +<h3><span class="sc">Friendly Comments on Character and Accomplishments.</span></h3> + +<p class="ind1">"<i>She is the most domesticated darling imaginable</i>;"<br /> +<i>i.e.</i>, "A dull, sock-darning dowdy."</p> + +<p class="ind1">"<i>Quite a beauty-man, and nice—to those who like that sort of thing</i>;"<br /> +<i>i.e.</i>, "An awfully handsome fellow, who won't worship me."</p> + +<p class="ind1">"<i>Grim rather at first, but grows upon one wonderfully</i>;"<br /> +<i>i.e.</i>, "He is softening a little beneath my blandishments."</p> + +<h3><span class="sc">Railroad Amenities.</span></h3> + +<p class="ind1">"<i>Would you like the window up</i>;"<br /> +<i>i.e.</i>, "Hope to goodness she won't, for her patchouli is simply suffocating."</p> + +<p class="ind1">"<i>If you feel inclined for a snack, don't mind me</i>;"<br /> +<i>i.e.</i>,"The scent of sherry and sandwiches in a close carriage is simply sickening."</p> + +<h3><span class="sc">Preparing for Private Theatricals.</span></h3> + +<p class="ind1">"<i>I defer to your superior knowledge of stage-effect</i>;" +<br /><i>i.e.</i>, "Stuck-up know-all! I could play his head off!"</p> + +<p class="ind1">"<i>Well, I fear it's a little out of my line; still if I can do anything +to help you, I shall be delighted</i>;"<br /> +<i>i.e.</i>, "What I've longed for for years. Now I shall have a chance of showing what's in me!"</p> + +<p class="ind1">"<i>Bravo, Buffins, dear boy! That little bit of business was really first-rate</i>;"<br /> +<i>i.e.</i>, "If he plays like <i>that</i> I shall shine, if only by contrast."</p> + +<hr /> + +<h3>QUITE A LITTLE BANC(ROFT) HOLIDAY!</h3> + +<p><span class="sc">Mrs. Bancroft's</span> "Little Play" is very good work. It is called +<i>The Riverside</i>; it drew a big <i>Matinée</i> house at the Haymarket last +Thursday, and drew big tears. The ladies did enjoy themselves! +They were in full cry all the time. Capitally acted. It is rumoured +that the gifted authoress, manageress, and actress (all in one), is +going to take a company up the river in a House-boat fitted as a +Theatre. It is to be called <i>The Thespis</i>, and will visit all the principal +places on the river during the Season, and ought to do uncommonly +well. The idea is novel. The Company will be called "The +Bancroft Water-Babies." <i>À propos</i> of the Busy B.'s, we are +authorised to contradict the report that, in consequence of his great +success as an arbitrator, Mr. <span class="sc">Bancroft</span> is to be made a Deputy-Assistant +County Court Judge. This is not so.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/double_rule-1.png" width="250" height="10" alt="double rule" border="0" /></div> + +<p><span class="sc">The First Roze of Summer.</span>—Our Chirruping Critic off the hearth +went to Madame <span class="sc">Marie Roze's</span> Concert the other day—advertised as +"Grand Morning Concert"—well, it was a "Grand Morning" for the +time of year—but why was the Concert "Grand?"—and was delighted. +The Chirruper heartily welcomed Miss <span class="sc">Grace Damian</span>—more graceful +than ever—she sang grandly—of course everyone did on this "grand" +occasion—and he nearly split a pair of gloves applauding Mr. <span class="sc">Leo +Stern</span> in his Grand Violoncello act, for which he was recalled three +times, till he was quite tired of bowing and "boo'ing." But the +Chirruper would not have it otherwise, "Touch not a single bow," +as the song says. And then the flowers! five bouquets for Madame +<span class="sc">Marie Roze</span>. "The flowers that bloom in the spring, tra la!" as the +late firm of <span class="sc">Gilbert and Sullivan</span> used to sing and play. <i>À +propos</i> +of Mr. <span class="sc">Gilbert</span>, his <i>protégée</i>, Miss <span class="sc">Neilson</span>, whom he was +the first to +bring out in Brantingham Hall, St. James's, S.W., gave a recitation +which made a decided hit; and then she sang a song—accomplished +young lady is Miss <span class="sc">Julia</span>—which made another hit. The Chirruper +wishes to record that—to a quartette "specially arranged for the +Meister Glee Singers", called <i>Dinah Doe</i>, and excellently sung, no +names were given of either the Shakspearian Librettist, or the +Composer, <span class="sc">J. L. Molloy</span>, who wrote it for the <span class="sc">German Reeds</span> many +years ago. It's as fresh as ever, and at this grand concert came +out grandly. The Steinway piano was of course a grand.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page256" id="page256"></a>[pg 256]</span> + +<hr /> + +<h2>ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.</h2> + +<h3>EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M.P.</h3> + +<p><i>House of Commons, Monday, May 19.</i>—<span class="sc">Old Morality</span> in new +and charming mood to-night; turned over a fresh leaf in his copybook; +entered upon the chapter headed "Banter;" not only enjoyed +himself, but was cause of enjoyment in others. <span class="sc">Esslemont</span> began +it; doled out, as if it were ounce of tea or +yard and quarter of calico, ponderous joke +about having no Holiday at Whitsuntide, and +adding three days to Recess at end of Session.</p> + +<p>"I will take a note of the Hon. Member's +recommendation," said <span class="sc">Old Morality</span>.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 150px"><a href="images/256-1-300.png"><img src="images/256-1-100.png" width="100" height="271" alt="'Such badinage! such persiflage!'" /></a> +<p class="center">"Such badinage! such<br /> persiflage!"</p></div> + +<p>Nobody laughs when I tell this; yet, +remember, House roared whilst <span class="sc">Old Morality</span>, +resuming seat, sat with pursed-up lips +and furrowed brow, fearful lest he should +spoil situation by smiling. Must have told +the joke wrong; look up Parliamentary Reports. +No, there it is, the very words; also +his retort to <span class="sc">Tim Healy</span>; his turning the +flank of <span class="sc">Harcourt</span>; his triumphant knocking +over of <span class="sc">Tim</span>, when, after brief pause, he came +up again.</p> + +<p>"Such badinage!" said <span class="sc">Charles Wilson</span>, +"such persiflage!"</p> + +<p>So it seemed at time. Everyone roared with +delight.</p> + +<p>"Quite in <span class="sc">Dizzy's</span> style," said the admiring +<span class="sc">Stanhope</span>.</p> + +<p>"Only better," added the ecstatic <span class="sc">Georgy +Hamilton</span>.</p> + +<p>Thought so too at the time; but when I +come to write down the jokes, the fun has +gone, the flavour escaped, the bloom shed. +Wonder what it was we all laughed at?</p> + +<p>"You do your best," said the Member for +Sark, always ready with kindly remark, "but +you can't bring <span class="sc">Old Morality</span> and all he +is to us on your written page. His voice, his looks, his way of getting +up and of sitting down, his throwing back his head and thrusting +forward his chin as he mouths his apophthegm, his nervous glance +round the House, his assumption of a stern official aspect, breaking +presently into a smile when the House laughs; his apologetic way of +sitting on the edge of the seat when he has snubbed <span class="sc">Harcourt</span>; all +his goodness, his littleness, his honest intention, and his occasional +lapses into crooked paths; his 'Certainly, Sir,' when the thing is +quite otherwise, his blush when he discovers himself dealing with +facts in a Pickwickian sense, his constitutional modesty, and his +spasmodic aggressiveness, the look in his eye as of a wounded hare +when <span class="sc">Courtney</span> refuses to put the Closure he has moved,—all +these are things, little in themselves, momentary +in their passage, which you, dear <span class="sc">Toby</span>, +can no more transfer to your folios than you +can illuminate them with the glow of sunset, +or perfume them with the scent of country +lanes in this sweet spring-time. <span class="sc">Old Morality</span> +belongs to us. He is a peculiar growth of the +House of Commons, unique, unprecedented, +unapproachable, never fully to be understanded +of, or appreciated by, the people."</p> + +<p><i>Business done.</i>—Battling round Budget Bill; +sat all night, and far into morning.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 170px"><a href="images/256-2-300.png"><img src="images/256-2-100.png" width="100" height="291" alt="Going down to the House." /></a> +<p class="center">Going down to the House.</p></div> + +<p><i>Tuesday.</i>—<span class="sc">Cadogan</span> in good time at House +of Lords to-day. <span class="sc">Denman</span> got first place with +Motion for Second Reading of his Bill extending +Municipal Franchise in Ireland. <span class="sc">Cadogan</span> to +move rejection of Measure in name of Government.</p> + +<p>"I must be firm," he said, as he turned up +his trousers over his white spats. "<span class="sc">Denman</span> +a terrible fellow when he's roused."</p> + +<p>House pretty full when <span class="sc">Denman</span> appeared +at table in position of Leader of Opposition. +An ordinary Member not connected with either +present or late Government, usually speaks +from Bench on which he is accustomed to sit. +<span class="sc">Denman</span> preferred conveniences of table. Most +interesting speech, what could be heard of it. +Good deal about Sir <span class="sc">Robert Peel</span>; occasional +reference to <span class="sc">Palmerston</span>; some reminiscences of +early journey in railway-carriage in <span class="sc">Stephenson's</span> +time; a passing remark as to the weather, and probable state +of the crops on this day six months. But, as <span class="sc">Cadogan</span> subsequently +remarked, nothing whatever about the Bill. Lords in an awkward +position. Had the scene been in the Commons, and the elderly grey-haired +gentleman at the table been merely returned by a constituency, +the case would have been different. Might have been howled +down in a few moments. But with a Peer of the Realm, a hereditary +legislator, a personage whose vote might in certain conceivable circumstances +suffice to throw out a Bill which had received sanction of +House of Commons, it is, as <span class="sc">Granville</span> says, <i>une autre paire de +manches</i>. If anyone whispered that <span class="sc">Denman</span> had a tile off, whither +would the admission lead us? A Peer is a man—or rather, a Being—of +a special, superlative order. Admitted within that order, he +becomes, <i>ipso facto</i>, a person of extraordinary intelligence, keen +intellect, ripe judgment, irreproachable character.</p> + +<p>A little awkward that <span class="sc">Denman</span> should seem to be rambling. If +he were a Commoner, might even be called incoherent. Being a +Peer, some forty or fifty other Peers sat through twenty minutes +with polite assumption of listening. But there is a substratum of +human nature even in the Peerage. When <span class="sc">Denman</span>, <i>à propos</i> of +the Municipal Franchise in Ireland, began to talk about <span class="sc">Columbus's</span> +egg, there was a murmur of impatience; when he slid into the +Panama Canal the murmur grew to a shout. Awhile, amid stormy +cries for the Division, the House of Lords resembled the House of +Commons.</p> + +<p>After brief struggle with unwonted elements, <span class="sc">Denman</span> resumed +seat; Bill thrown out, and with regained equanimity noble Lords +turned to next business. To their horror, <span class="sc">Denman</span> up again at +table; forgotten to mention a particular circumstance connected +with <span class="sc">Columbus's</span> egg. "Perhaps their Lordships——" But this too +much. At whatever risk to Peerage as a body, <span class="sc">Denman</span> must be +shouted down. So they roared at him with cries of "Order!" he +standing regarding them with looks of pained surprise. Was it +possible they declined to hear more about <span class="sc">Columbus's</span> egg? "Order! +Order!" they roared, <span class="sc">Bath</span> leading the onslaught.</p> + +<p>"It is you, my Lords, who are disorderly," said <span class="sc">Denman</span>, and +with head erect, and tall figure carried with pathetic dignity, he +strode back to Cross Benches, and sat down in seat of <span class="sc">Prince Of +Wales</span>.</p> + +<p><i>Business done.</i>—Budget Bill in Commons.</p> + +<p><i>Thursday.</i>—All the blood of his great predecessor in spoliation, +<span class="sc">Henry the Eighth</span>, just now swelled in the bosom of <span class="sc">James +Stuart Allanson Tudor Picton</span>. Prince <span class="sc">Arthur</span> responsible for +the flood. Question about meeting announced to be held in Mid-Tipperary +next Sunday. Prince <span class="sc">Arthur</span> has, it seems, prohibited +it. <span class="sc">John Morley</span> wants to know why? There was, he says, public +meeting held in same place last month, addressed by English Members; +that not proclaimed. What was the difference between +meeting addressed by Irish Members, and another by English Members, +that one should be taken and the other left?</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 160px"><a href="images/256-3-300.png"><img src="images/256-3-100.png" width="100" height="272" alt="Pease (with Honour)." /></a> +<p class="center">Pease (with Honour).</p></div> + +<p>"The difference is," said Prince <span class="sc">Arthur</span>, speaking with embarrassed +air, as if the distinction was dragged +out of him, "that the result of the meeting +addressed by Irish Members was to produce +intimidation, whilst the result of the other +was, I should say, <i>nil</i>."</p> + +<p>If <span class="sc">James Stuart Allanson Tudor Picton</span> +had only lived in the times of his great predecessor, +and wielded his power, Prince <span class="sc">Arthur</span> +would forthwith have been conducted +to Tower Hill, and shortened by a head. +Why he (<span class="sc">James</span>, &c.) was at this meeting at +Mid-Tipperary last month! He, standing on +a butter-tub, had addressed the men of Tipperary; +the echo of his eloquence still filled +the dales, whilst the hills reverberated with +the cheers of the men of Tipperary. For this +insolent hireling of a Coercionist Government +to speak in tones of studied slight of such a +demonstration was more than J. S. A. T. P. +could stand. If our two giants, <span class="sc">John O'Connor</span> +and <span class="sc">Henry Pease</span> had not joined hands +and held him back, gore would have sprinkled +the precincts of the Treasury Bench. As it +was, the subject dropped, and House proceeded +to discuss Budget Bill.</p> + +<p><i>Business done.</i>—A good lead.</p> + +<p><i>Friday.</i>—House adjourned for holidays. +"When we come back," says <span class="sc">Old Morality</span>, +"we must really begin work. Playtime up +to now; left most of the work over; +must buckle to. We've been in some +danger, and there may be more ahead. Why are persons sometimes +killed by leaning over beer-vats? Because vats, when beer +has been made, contain large quantities of carbonic acid gas, produced +by the vinous fermentation of the beer; and when a man +incautiously leans over a beer-vat and inhales the carbonic acid, he +is killed thereby. It is, of course, not quite the same in respect of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page257" id="page257"></a>[pg 257]</span> +spirits. Still, when a Chancellor of Exchequer has clapped on sixpence +a gallon on whiskey, it is as well for his colleagues to avoid +looking a Scotch hogshead or an Irish puncheon in the face. <i>Au +plaisir, cher</i> <span class="sc">Toby</span>. Come along, <span class="sc">Jackson</span>!"</p> + +<p>The two Right Honourables go off together, <span class="sc">Jackson</span> evidently +turning over in his mind <span class="sc">Old Morality's</span> observations on the beer-vat.</p> + +<p>"A wonderful man," he says, "his mind stored with odd bits of +information, which he draws upon for enlightenment upon ordinary +events of daily life. Don't exactly see, though, how he rolled in +that beer-vat. Must think it over during the Recess."</p> + +<p>Everyone glad to hail <span class="sc">Jackson</span> "Right Honourable." A proud +title, as yet not spoiled by indiscriminate distribution. Suffices for +<span class="sc">Gladstone</span>, as it did for <span class="sc">Peel</span>; suits <span class="sc">Jackson</span> exactly.</p> + +<p><i>Business done.</i>—Winding up for Whitsuntide. Adjourn for holidays +till Monday, June 2nd.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h3>THE OPERA-GOER'S DIARY.</h3> + +<p><i>From the Note-book of Mr. Pips Senior.</i>—<i>Monday, May 19.</i>—To the +Royal Opera House, Covent Garden. First night of the Season. The +house infinite full, and the Prince of <span class="sc">Wales</span> and the Princess, and +the Princesses their daughters, there in a box, pretty to see. <span class="sc">Druriolanus +Operaticus et Counticouncillarius</span> mightily pleased at +what I hear is the biggest subscription +to this class of entertainment +ever known. Many +fine faces here to-day. The sight +of the ladies exceeding noble. </p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 250px"><a href="images/257-500.png"><img src="images/257-250.png" width="250" height="394" alt="'Harmony in Black and White.'" /></a> +<p class="center">"Harmony in Black and White."</p></div> + +<p>A new wench, Mlle. <span class="sc">Nuovina</span>, to +sing for the first time, taking the +part of <i>Marguérite</i> in the Opera +of <i>Faust</i>, which she did prettily +and quietly. Curious to see a +<i>Marguérite</i> with jet-black hair +and a white face; yet comely +and with much grace.</p> + +<p>Everyone extraordinarily content +with Mons. <span class="sc">Jean de Reszké</span>, +the best <i>Faust</i> that did ever sing +and play this part. But vexed +to see one M. <span class="sc">Orme Darrall</span> act +<i>Mephistopheles</i> in the room of +<span class="sc">Edouard de Reszké</span>, who, poor +man, is sick. The scenes and the +chorus all very fine indeed. All +of us pretty merry at the droll +mimicry of Mlle. <span class="sc">Bauermeister</span> +as <i>Martha</i>, who makes this part +go most rarely.</p> + +<p>Pleased to see Madame <span class="sc">Scalchi</span> +dressed as a boy for the part of <i>Siebel</i>. The house mightily content, +and wishing her to sing one song twice over, which she would not. +In which matter she did wisely, as also the others.</p> + +<p>Went out before the last Act began, to find it raining heavily, +and, good lack! not a <i>Commissionnaire</i> to be met with for a quarter +of an hour. Whereat mightily troubled to get a coach, till one did +fetch me a four-wheeler, which I entered, in great disorder, after +much strife and contention. Cost me sixpence. To <span class="sc">Rule's</span>, in +Maiden Lane, being mighty thirsty, where had supper on excellent +lobster and fresh salad, with eggs of the plover, and a draught of the +best stout, which did much content me. Comes young <span class="sc">Silligrew</span>, +who makes merry about "sticking to Rules for supper and no exception," +or some such nonsense, which I have forgot, though we laughed +heartily at his manner of saying it. Drank to the success of the +Italian Opera and of <span class="sc">Druriolanus</span>. After paying the reckoning, +took cab, and so home to bed.</p> + +<p><i>From Note-book of Mr. Pips Junior.</i>—<i>Tuesday.</i>—<span class="sc">Pips</span> Senior +doesn't go to Opera to-night. <span class="sc">Pips</span> Junior does. Think <span class="sc">Pips</span> +Senior, +as an Admiralty official, will be at the Court Ball with Madame +<span class="sc">Pips</span>. Glad, therefore, to take his stall at the Opera. <i>Carmen</i> +always +delightful. Tuneful, melodious, and bright. Good Bizet-ness. Mlle. +<span class="sc">Zélie de Lussan</span> as <i>Carmen</i> mighty difficult to beat, and she +sings and plays the part with all the diabolical waywardness of this +impudent Spanish baggage, as <span class="sc">Pips</span> Senior would call her. Pity +that <span class="sc">Maggie McIntyre</span> is indisposed to play <i>Michaela</i>; she used +to do it so prettily and so innocently that she shone out as just the +very contrast intended by the author. Instead of <span class="sc">Maggie</span>, Mlle. +<span class="sc">Colombati</span> sings the part to-night. She is very graciously received, +as is also Signor <span class="sc">Fernando Valero</span> (from several Opera Houses +abroad) who makes his <i>début</i> here as that vacillating tenor, <span class="sc">Don +José</span>. Clever Mlle. <span class="sc">Bauermeister</span> as frisky <i>Frasquita</i>, and +Mlle. +<span class="sc">Longhi</span> as <i>Mercedes</i>, both excellent Bohemian Girls. To see them +going nap was a treat! Which wins? One excellent Irish-Italian, +<span class="sc">Dan Drady</span>, as the <i>Toréador</i>, first-rate. What a song it is! +<i>Encores</i> +refused all round, of course. In spite of State Ball, House very +nearly as full as on first night. Brilliant effect of some ladies who +are "going on," and who can't of course "go on anyhow," but are +obliged to appear in their diamonds.</p> + +<p>Pretty to see little Mlle. <span class="sc">Palladino</span> dancing. Very short life +and a merry one has the <i>première danseuse</i> in this Opera. Just a few +steps, and then she "steps it," and is not seen again. There is +too little of <span class="sc">Palladino</span> at any time, and in this case, as she only +comes on for five minutes at the commencement of Act II., and then +"<i>bon soir!</i>" she may be described as "Small and Early."</p> + +<p><i>Thursday.</i>—<i>Rentrée</i> of Mlle. <span class="sc">Ella Russell</span> as <i>Leila</i> +in <span class="sc">Bizet's</span> +<i>I Pescatori di Perle</i>, another version of <i>The Diversions of Purley</i>, +a work now more or less forgotten. Signor <span class="sc">Valero</span> better as <i>Nadir</i> +(isn't this the name of a well-known photographer?) than as <i>Don José</i>. +Not unlike the lamented <span class="sc">Gayarre</span>. The more like he can become +to that tenor the better. M. <span class="sc">Dufriche</span> came from Madrid to play +<i>Zurga</i>. A long journey; almost sorry he gave himself the +trouble, but there's more than this for him to do. Lovely finish to +First Act, but after that the Opera is not a stirring one, the story +being so idiotically undramatic. <span class="sc">Ella</span> fresher than ever.</p> + +<p><i>Friday.</i>—<i>Lohengrin.</i> Wagnerian worshippers in their thousands. +What shall she do who comes after <i>Albani</i> in the part of <i>Elsa</i>? +That is the question, and <span class="sc">Maggie McIntyre</span> supplies the answer, +which is Uncommonly well. A sweet picture in a gentle frame of +mind, so Macintirely pure and simple. A trying, very trying, part. +How grand are the <span class="sc">De Reszkés</span>—<span class="sc">Jean</span> and <span class="sc">Edouard</span>—or +more +familiarly as we come to know them better, <span class="sc">Jack</span> and <span class="sc">Ned</span>. +<span class="sc">Ned</span> +looking well, and singing so too, in spite of recent chill. Warmth +of reception to-night would thaw any chill. But what a couple of +bores are the characters of <i>Ortruda</i> and <i>Telramondo</i>, even when +superbly played as to-night, by Madame <span class="sc">Fursch-Madi</span>—(the real +Mahdi at last!)—and Signor <span class="sc">Dan Drady</span>, bedad! Fortunately +the Opera is considerably curtailed, or we should never hear the +last of it.</p> + +<p><i>Saturday.</i>—<i>Il Trovatore.</i> Great night for "the big, big D",—that +is, for "the high D," on which the new tenor, M. <span class="sc">Rawner</span>, +alights with a sudden bound that electrifies the house. His "high +D" is quite an <i>Eiffel tour de force</i>. Henceforth <span class="sc">M. Rawner</span> must +be known as "the High D-iddle-diddle" tenor, and His Highness +will be expected to sustain his high reputation. Vocal effort almost +eclipsed by wonderful physical force, which enables him to burst +through the prison walls and bow to audience, who are enthusiastically +applauding the <i>Miserere</i>. Unfortunately M. <span class="sc">Rawner</span>, +being a stranger in these parts, cannot find his way back again, and +so is unavoidably prevented from being present at his own execution, +which, in his absence, takes place without him. Madame <span class="sc">Tetrazzina</span>—her +first appearance here—not so great, perhaps, as she is good and +graceful. <span class="sc">Dan Drady</span> and Madame <span class="sc">Scalchi</span> as "per usual," which +is the highest praise. End of first week. General satisfaction.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>THE PLEASURE-SEEKER'S VADE MECUM.</h2> + +<p><i>Q.</i> I trust you have had a delightful time recently?</p> + +<p><i>A.</i> Indeed I have, with the assistance of Private Views, Special +Performances, and Second-rate First Nights.</p> + +<p><i>Q.</i> Did you assist at the <i>première</i> of <i>Gretna Green</i>, the new +"Comedy Opera" at the Opéra Comique?</p> + +<p><i>A.</i> An Act of it. It had already been played on a previous +occasion, when I fancy one of the principal performers, finding that +his part was dragging, introduced imitations of popular modern +actors. As the period of <i>Gretna Green</i> is the eighteenth century, +this innovation must have been at once pleasing and appropriate.</p> + +<p><i>Q.</i> I think you have also been present at the first performance of +the "Wild East," at the Earl's Court Exhibition?</p> + +<p><i>A.</i> I have had that advantage, and am now thoroughly conversant +with the manners and customs of our lively neighbours in +some parts of Africa.</p> + +<p><i>Q.</i> Are those manners and customs what may be termed—quaint?</p> + +<p><i>A.</i> They are very quaint. Still I am not sure that I have not +seen something very like them before. As for the Exhibition itself, +there is as little doubt about its being French, as there was about +last year's display being Spanish.</p> + +<p><i>Q.</i> Have you been to the Flower Show at the Aquarium?</p> + +<p><i>A.</i> I have; but did not find that home of scientific research quite +so full as it was when the Directors were testing the powers of +endurance of the Fasting Man.</p> + +<p><i>Q.</i> Do you consider the Westminster Aquarium of material +assistance in developing the latent civilisation of the nineteenth +century?</p> + +<p><i>A.</i> Indeed, I do; especially now that "the Royal Bears" are a +feature in the daily programme.</p> + +<p><i>Q.</i> Did you pass the Bank Holiday pleasantly?</p> + +<p><i>A.</i> When I tell you that I seized the opportunity to go to Calais +and back third-class excursion with a number of anti-temperance-movement +fellow passengers, you will see at once that the festival +must have been to me a source of unmixed enjoyment!</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page258" id="page258"></a>[pg 258]</span> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px"><a href="images/258-1500.png"><img src="images/258-600.png" width="600" height="388" alt="THE ARGUMENT BY ANALOGY." /></a> +<h4>THE ARGUMENT BY ANALOGY.</h4> + +<p><i>Mariar Ann.</i> "<span class="sc">What a beautiful 'Ouse, Miss! What a lot o' Rent you +must 'ave to pay! I suppose Ladies and Gentlemen +<i>do</i> pay Rent?</span>"</p> + +<p><i>Daughter of the House.</i> "<span class="sc">Of course they do.</span>"</p> + +<p><i>Mariar Ann.</i> "<span class="sc">What a deal o' trouble your Father must 'ave, to get it +together every Week!</span>"</p></div> + +<hr /> + +<h3>"COUNTRY AND DUTY."</h3> + +<h4><span class="sc">Old Morality</span> (<i>in flannels</i>) <i>sings</i>;—</h4> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Ouf! Free from their "howlings and whinings" awhile,</p> +<p class="i2">(Which, as the <i>Times</i> tells us, are frightful—are frightful.)</p> +<p>But here Nature smiles, a true Smithian smile,</p> +<p class="i2">And the change from the House is delightful—delightful!</p> +<p>A smile which, as <span class="sc">Goschen</span> would say, one can <i>hear</i>;</p> +<p class="i2">A <i>susurrus</i> sweeps over the river—the river.</p> +<p>Oh, Henley in May to my heart is as dear</p> +<p class="i2">As to Spaniards the gay Guadalquivir—dalquivir!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>No doubt they are yelping and yapping like mad;</p> +<p class="i2">In such hobbles cantankerous spleen lands—rous spleen lands.</p> +<p>I peacefully sprawl on the turf, and am glad;</p> +<p class="i2">The Blue Devils never reach Greenlands—reach Greenlands.</p> +<p>By Jove, they have led me a doose of a life!</p> +<p class="i2">Their conduct is sheer criminality—nality.</p> +<p>Here, though, thank Heaven, I'm far from the strife,</p> +<p class="i2">Here the wicked won't vex <span class="sc">Old Morality—rality</span>!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>True, 'tisn't for long, a clear week at the most.</p> +<p class="i2">They would worry us out of our Whitsuntide—Whitsuntide.</p> +<p>But still we all feel, though I don't want to boast,</p> +<p class="i2">Like Park-hacks in paddock, or "tits" untied—"tits" untied.</p> +<p>They mock my wide smile, and my scantness of thatch;</p> +<p class="i2">I think, though, in managing skill I am—skill I am,</p> +<p>All things considered, much more than a match</p> +<p class="i2">For swaggering, swashing Sir <span class="sc">William—Will-i-am</span>!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Lawks! this <i>is</i> lovely! But, <span class="sc">Smithy</span> my lad,</p> +<p class="i2">In the midst of Arcadian beauty—an beauty,</p> +<p>You mustn't forget (the reflection is sad)</p> +<p class="i2">What is due to your Country and Duty—and Duty.</p> +<p>That's why I have brought down this Holiday Task.</p> +<p class="i2">Though slumber-inviting the weather—the weather,</p> +<p>I'll turn my true hands, whilst in sunshine I bask,</p> +<p class="i2">To the use of the brush and wash-leather—wash-leather!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>It's got a bit rusty from sheer want of use;</p> +<p class="i2">Though they tell me I'm promptish at pouncing—at pouncing.</p> +<p>Ah me! E'en an angel comes in for abuse,</p> +<p class="i2">Or <i>me</i> they would not be denouncing—denouncing.</p> +<p>A crocodile's sure to be down on the Gag,</p> +<p class="i2">And <span class="sc">Harcourt's</span> a fair alligator—ligator;</p> +<p>He's awfully wide in the jaw, for a wag,</p> +<p class="i2">But <i>I</i>'ll tie up the would-be dictator—dictator!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>They're out without muzzles, the whole noisy pack,</p> +<p class="i2">(I wish some sharp Bobby would run 'em in—run 'em in,)</p> +<p>But <i>I'll</i> be prepared for them when they come back.</p> +<p class="i2">The fight for free jaw I have done 'em in—done 'em in.</p> +<p>Good gracious! One's duty to Country and Queen</p> +<p class="i2">Cannot be well done, as all know, by a—know, by a</p> +<p>Man amidst yelpings of furious spleen,</p> +<p class="i2">Suggestive of sheer hydrophobia—phobia!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>And so, whilst <i>sub tegmine fagi</i> I sit,</p> +<p class="i2">And pass in May sunshine a jolly day—jolly day,</p> +<p>I think I'll just brush up this weapon a bit,</p> +<p class="i2">And so make a good use of my holiday—holiday.</p> +<p>They're bound to come back, and if barking they come,</p> +<p class="i2">I'll be ready—and willing—to muzzle 'em—muzzle 'em.</p> +<p>Dumb dogs may bite, but when <i>this</i> makes 'em dumb,</p> +<p class="i2">To bite us, I fancy, will puzzle 'em—puzzle 'em!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i40"> [<i>Left smiling and scrubbing.</i></p> + </div> </div> + +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/double_rule-1.png" width="250" height="10" alt="double rule" border="0" /></div> + +<p><span class="sc">Mr. Dunthorne</span> of Vigo Street is exhibiting a collection of "Atmospheric +Notes," which are not, as Esoteric Buddhists might conclude, +missives forwarded by astral current from a Mahatma, but a series +of very charming pastels, by Mr. <span class="sc">George Hitchcock</span>. They are +records of land, sea, and sky effects in Holland, characterised by a +poetry and feeling, and a subtlety of colour that give equal pleasure +to mind and eye. <i>Mr. Punch</i> predicts, that the fortunate possessor +of any one of these Notes, will be in no hurry to change it.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page259" id="page259"></a>[pg 259]</span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px"><a href="images/259-1500.png"><img src="images/259-370.png" width="370" height="480" alt="'COUNTRY AND DUTY.'" /></a> +<h4>"COUNTRY AND DUTY."</h4> + +<p><span class="sc">Mr. W. H. S.</span> "IT'S GOT A LITTLE RUSTY,—BUT I'LL HAVE IT READY IN +TIME!"</p></div> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page260" id="page260"></a>[pg 260]</span> +<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page261" id="page261"></a>[pg 261]</span> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px"><a href="images/261-1-1000.png"><img src="images/261-1-550.png" width="550" height="462" alt="AN UNKIND SUGGESTION." /></a> +<h4>AN UNKIND SUGGESTION.</h4> + +<p><i>Cabby (who has been paid his legal fare in threepenny bits and coppers).</i> +"<span class="sc">Where did yer get +this Lot from, eh? Been a robbin' the Child's Money-Box?</span>"</p></div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h3>ROBERT AT GUILDHALL.</h3> + +<p><span class="sc">Well</span>, if we aint bin and had a fine time +of it at Gildhall this last week or two, it's a +pitty! What the pore harf-starved County +Counsellors must have thort of it all, it isn't +for me to say, and how they all felt when the +ginerous old Copperashun tossed 'em a few +dozzen tickets to skrambel for, when the great +Mr. <span class="sc">Stanley</span> came to supper, of course I carnt +tell, but them few as I knowed seemed to find +their way to my refreshment department as if +by hinstinkt. I didn't, of course, hear the +grate Traweller's grand speech, but I'm told +as my pore namesake, Sir <span class="sc">Robert Fowler</span> +M.P.'s face was a site to see while he lissened +to sitch a descripshun of his Quaker Friends +as he probberbly never heard afore.</p> + +<p>There was grate complaints made about the +want of enuff wittles and drink, but anyone +who seed, as I did, the fust rush for 'em by +the hungry mob, couldn't have been much +surprised at that. Why, I myself seed, with +my two estonished eyes, one gent, as I spose +he called hisself, take up a hole dish of most +lovely Hoyster Pattys, and skoop out all the +Hoysters with a spoon, and then return the +hemty Pattys from whence they came! Feeling +as I couldn't be of no more use after there +was nothink left for me to hand to the fresh +mob as kept on arriving, I quietly warked off, +and made my way to the supper-room, where +the hemenent Traweller was aswaging the +pangs of hunger with reel Turtel Soup and +setterer. Ah! what a contrast! Plenty of +everythink, and plenty of room to enjoy it.</p> + +<p>With that abundant kindness as so distinguishes +him, the <span class="sc">Lord Mare</span> acshally hintroduced +me to the Ero of the Heavening, who +kindly shook hands with me, and hoped as how +as we shood meet again, which I can quite +bleeve if he thinks as it allers includes reel +Turtel Soup, and setterer. Rayther different +living to what he has bin accustomed to for +3 years parst, pore Feller! They tell me as +he as bin to the Mountins of the Moon. +Evins! ow did he get back? By balloon. +But I don't kwite bleeve horl I eers.</p> + +<p>But on the following Friday there wasn't +not no xceptions to anythink, and everrybody, +from the Prince of <span class="sc">Wales</span> hisself, down +to the werry umblest Postman or Sorter, left +that nobel old Hall, estonished, and delited, +and appy.</p> + +<p>And no wunder, for, by the combined efforts +of the hole Copperashun and its werry numerus +Staff, and the hole Army of Postmen, +and Tellacram Men, and all manner of Sorters, +and Stampers, St. Martin's-le-Grand was removed +boddily to Gildall, and everything +that was ever done in the one place was dun +in the other before the estonished eyes of sum +two thousand of us, ewen includin four-horse +Male Coaches, with sacks of letters, and reel +Gards with reel Horns, which they blowed +most butifully. It was a gloreus Jewbelee! +I'm that bizzy I hardly noes wich way to +turn first, so no more at pressunt from yores +trewly,</p> + +<p class="author"><span class="sc">Robert</span>.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px"><a href="images/261-2-600.png"><img src="images/261-2-300.png" width="300" height="255" alt="SUGGESTIONS FOR PICTORIAL DIRECTORY." /></a> + +<h5>Regent's Circus.</h5></div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h3>OUR NEW DUKE.</h3> + +<h4><span class="sc">Air</span>—"<span class="sc">The Widdy Malone.</span>"</h4> + +<div class="poem1"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Did ye hear of the Duke of <span class="sc">Athlone</span>?</p> +<p class="i22"> Ohone!</p> +<p>He's a son of the Heir to the Throne</p> +<p class="i20"> Full grown.</p> +<p class="i4">Of a prince quite a pictur',</p> +<p class="i4">Is young <span class="sc">Albert Victor</span>,</p> +<p>Who'll now as the Duke of <span class="sc">Athlone</span></p> +<p class="i20"> Be known,</p> +<p>He'll be the Great Gun of Athlone!</p> + </div> </div> + +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/double_rule-1.png" width="250" height="10" alt="double rule" border="0" /></div> + +<h2>A MID-DAY MEAL-LENNIUM.</h2> + +<blockquote><p class="center">(<i>With Salutation to the "Society for the Promotion +of Enjoyment during Luncheon Hours, +specially in the City."</i>)</p></blockquote> + +<h3><span class="sc">Lunching as it Is.</span></h3> + +<p>No, I certainly did <i>not</i> order Irish Stew; +but as you have now brought it, and I have +been waiting a quarter of an hour for a cut +from the joint, I prefer to take it.</p> + +<p>This room is very stuffy and crowded. Is +that purple-faced gentleman in the corner +suffering from an apoplectic stroke?</p> + +<p>No; but <i>he</i> has been waiting <i>half</i> an hour +for the Irish Stew which I have just annexed. +He seems angry about it.</p> + +<p>Waiter, would you try not to kick my +chair and knock the back of my head every +time you pass with a dish?</p> + +<p>Yes, I know it's a narrow gangway, and +that everybody in this dark and confined crib +which you call a City Restaurant is cramped +for room; still, I <i>do</i> object to collisions between +my best hat and somebody else's +victuals.</p> + +<p>Would you mind talking to me in the Deaf +and Dumb Alphabet? In this maddening +clatter it is impossible to hear a word you say.</p> + +<p>That young man three from me is evidently +training as the Champion Express Eater of +the World. He has got through joint, potatoes, +rhubarb tart, and Cheddar cheese in +seven minutes, and is now putting on his hat +to go.</p> + +<h3><span class="sc">As it Ought to be.</span></h3> + +<p>Is this spacious airy hall, with a fountain +playing in the middle of shrubs, and abundant +light coming in through painted windows, +really the "Apple-pie Restaurant" in +its new form?</p> + +<p>And this neat-handed Phyllis, who respectfully +awaits my orders as soon as I have +taken my very comfortable seat, <i>can</i> she be +the substitute for the over-worked and distracted +City waiter of the past?</p> + +<p>I see that especial care is taken to prevent +the room being filled with more lunchers than +it can hold with comfort to each individual +customer, by an apparatus which automatically +closes the door when every seat is full.</p> + +<p>What! No shooting down of one's plate +before one as if fired from a catapult, and +no tedious waiting for dishes never ordered! +This is a Luncher's Paradise.</p> + +<p>It seems possible that I may now escape +the dyspepsia which, in the old days, was +the unfailing legacy of lunch.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/double_rule-1.png" width="250" height="10" alt="double rule" border="0" /></div> + +<p class="ind1">"<span class="sc">Toujours 'Gay.</span>'"—On an exit of Mrs. +<span class="sc">Langtry</span>, as <i>Esther Sandraz</i>, at the St. James's +Theatre:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>"Adieu! she cried, and wav'd her Lily hand."</p> + </div> </div> + +<p class="ind1">[How is it that Messrs. Transparent Soap & Co. +have never hit on this? Presented gratis.]</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="ind"><span class="sc">Forthcoming New Work</span> to be expected +in about six weeks' time, <i>Newton's Principia</i>, +revised and corrected by Mr. <span class="sc">Justice +Cave</span>.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page262" id="page262"></a>[pg 262]</span> + +<h2>GROSVENOR GEMS. (FIRST VISIT.)</h2> + +<table align="center" width="600px" summary="exhibition pictures" border="0"> + <tr> + <td class="pictures"> +<a href="images/262-1-800.png"><img src="images/262-1-420.png" width="420" height="253" alt="No. 150. The Old Hand teaching 'Blind Hookey' to his Young Friends." border="0" /></a> + </td> + <td> </td> + <td class="pictures"> +<a href="images/262-2-400.png"><img src="images/262-2-175.png" width="175" height="253" alt="No. 26. 'Sail or Return.'" border="0" /></a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> +No. 150. The Old Hand teaching "Blind Hookey" to his Young Friends. + </td> + <td> </td> + <td> +No. 26. "Sail or Return." + </td> + </tr> +</table> + +<table align="center" width="600px" summary="exhibition pictures" border="0"> + <tr> + <td> +<table border="0" summary="exhibition pictures"> + <tr> + <td class="pictures" width="300px"> +<a href="images/262-3-600.png"><img src="images/262-3-300.png" width="300" height="251" alt="No. 190. Lottie and Stottie of Oldham." border="0" /></a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><p class="center">No. 190. Lottie and Stottie of Oldham.</p> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +<table border="0" summary="exhibition pictures"> + <tr> + <td class="pictures" width="300px"> +<a href="images/262-5-600.png"><img src="images/262-5-300.png" width="300" height="258" alt="No. 92. Photography under Difficulties." border="0" /></a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><p class="center">No. 92. Photography under Difficulties.</p> + </td> + </tr> +</table> + </td> + <td valign="top"> +<table border="0" summary="exhibition pictures"> + <tr> + <td class="pictures" width="300px"> +<a href="images/262-4-600.png"><img src="images/262-4-300.png" width="300" height="337" alt="No. 381. 'Sich a gettin' up Stairs!'" border="0" /></a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><p class="center">No. 381. "Sich a gettin' up Stairs!" "How shall we get on to landing of the Gallery from here without a trapèze?"</p> + </td> + </tr> +</table> + + </td> + </tr> +</table> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h3>OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.</h3> + +<p>Not much time for books this week, says the Baron; just been +able to glance at <span class="sc">W. S. Lilly's</span> <i>Right and Wrong</i>: verdict—so +far, +all right, nothing wrong. Sharp chapter on journalism—severe, but +not unjust. Picked up small book, for which inquire at <span class="sc">W. H. +Smith's</span> bookstalls, <i>Four Thousand Years After</i>, by <span class="sc">Helen L. +Chevalier</span>. Baroness having read it, highly recommends it in hot +weather, as being a weird, mystical legend, of a soothing and interesting +character, commencing a few years before "<span class="sc">Adam</span> delved +and <span class="sc">Eve</span> span," and finishing in the time of steam yachts; so that +it is brought right up to date. It is full of incident and picturesque +description. I see Mr. <span class="sc">Farjeon</span> has been at it again with the +<i>Mystery of M. Felix</i>. <i>Felix</i>—Happy Thought. Mr. <span class="sc">Harry +Furniss's</span> +<i>Academy Antics</i> is entertaining reading, and some of the +earlier illustrations are quite Gilrayish in their breadth of style, +not of subject.</p> + +<p class="author"><span class="sc">Baron de Book-Worms.</span></p> + +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/double_rule-1.png" width="250" height="10" alt="double rule" border="0" /></div> + +<p class="ind1"><span class="sc">Phenomenon in Natural History</span> (<i>by an observant +Cricketer</i>).—Obtaining +a Duck's Egg from a Bat.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page263" id="page263"></a>[pg 263]</span> + +<h3>IN THE KNOW.</h3> + +<h4>(<i>By Mr. Punch's Own Prophet.</i>)</h4> + +<p><span class="sc">Every</span> jackass who ever was seen in the pig-skin +knows perfectly well, or ought to know, unless his brain +has gone barnacle-hunting in one of Mr. J.'s journalistic +bum-boats, that a race is to take place at Epsom in the +early part of next month. It has been customary to +speak of this race as the Derby, and to imagine that +the owner whose horse wins it gains possession of the +Blue ribbon of the turf. As if, forsooth, in a matter +like this, the colour mattered in the very least. But I +have a further objection to this hugger-mugger, three-cornered, +rag-and-bone, vermilion-faced, grog-blossomed, +hash-headed fashion of describing things, and it is this. +If a two-year-old, provided with one of Mrs. <span class="sc">Partington's</span> +patent range-finding, rectangular brooms, can beat +an unbroken four-year-old over the Nose-bag Handicap +Course by fourteen shoe-nails in a hundred, how in the +name of all that is lop-sided can a three-masted frigate +in full sail keep up with a Chinese Junk on Southampton +Water? I pause for a reply, but knowing the anserous, +venomous imbecility of the vermin who infest the turf, +I think it will be a long time before I get one.</p> + +<p><i>Crimson Jack</i> is a good horse—no thanks to the +puddling and pilfering slop-shop proprietors who manage +him. When he used to draw a dust-cart in Grosvenor +Square he accustomed himself to the sound of the saddling +bell, and now knows when luncheon time has +arrived. A year ago, I wouldn't have given a copper +shirt-stud for him, never having even heard of him. +Now I believe him to be worth even more than the £10 +given for him by the Ropes Contingent. But I have +got my eye on them, and they know it. The mooncalves +* * * gruel-brains * * * puddling simpletons * * * muddy +and pernicious rascals * * * dolts, dumplings and dunderheads +* * * poisonous, pestilential, crawling, goose-faced +reptiles * * * rely on it I know. * * *</p> + +<p>[There has been no time to send this proof for correction, +and it has, therefore, been printed as it was received, +gaps and all.—<span class="sc">Ed.</span> <i>Punch.</i>]</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px"> +<a href="images/263-1000.png"><img src="images/263-500.png" width="500" height="459" alt="A LITTLE PARTY IN EAST AFRICA ONLY GOING TO COLLECT A FEW BUTTERFLIES AND FLOWERS FOR THE DEAR KAISER, THAT IS ALL!!" /></a> +<h4>A LITTLE PARTY IN EAST AFRICA ONLY GOING TO COLLECT A FEW +BUTTERFLIES AND FLOWERS FOR THE DEAR KAISER, THAT IS ALL!!</h4> + +<p>"We came very near to having Kilima-Njaro attached to the British Empire, only +the German Emperor said he would very much like it, because he was so fond of the +<i>flora</i> and <i>fauna</i> of the place.... Would the English have expected to get any +territory on account of their great interest in the <i>flora</i> and <i>fauna</i> here."—<i>Stanley +speaking at Chamber of Commerce, May 21.</i></p></div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>WEEK BY WEEK.</h2> + +<p><i>Monday and Tuesday.</i>—Nothing particular, except meeting Mr. +<span class="sc">Stanley</span>.</p> + +<p><i>Wednesday.</i>—<i>Mr. Punch</i> comes out. General rejoicings.</p> + +<p><i>Thursday.</i>—Milk Adulteration Contest at Wormwood Scrubbs. Cat-shooting +in Eaton Square commences. Treacle-makers' Company +insist on presenting their Bicentenary Gold Medal to +Mr. <span class="sc">Stanley</span>.</p> + +<p><i>Friday.</i>—Private Eclipse of the Sun, invisible to everybody, except +Mr. <span class="sc">Stanley</span>.</p> + +<p><i>Saturday.</i>—Banquet of the Bargain-Drivers' Benevolent Association. +Song by Mr. <span class="sc">Stanley</span>, <i>Meet me by Moonlight</i>.</p> + +<p><i>Sunday.</i>—Festival of the Five Quires for a Shilling. Everybody in +"Go-to-Meeting-<span class="sc">Stanley</span> Costume."</p> + +<p><i>Monday.</i>—Afternoon Firework Display at the People's Palace.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class="sc">Some</span> amusement was created at the Anniversary Dinner of the +United Crossing-Sweepers' Provident Association, held last night, +by the Noble Chairman's reference to his early experiences on a +West End crossing. What he saw then had led him to believe, he +said, that the lot of one who preserves the boots of the public from +mud is not all beer and skittles. He had, however, formed a very +exalted idea of the dignity of the calling to which they all belonged. +It is, of course, well known that the Noble Earl owed his rise from +the position of broom-holder to an opportune legacy from an old lady, +whom he saved, at the risk of his own life, from being ground to +powder by a runaway costermonger's barrow.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>A Correspondent sends us some interesting notes of meteorological +observations during the past month. "I have noticed," he writes, +"that under certain atmospheric conditions the streets and pavements +of the Metropolis are invariably damp. This phenomenon is +generally preceded by the withdrawal of the sun, followed almost +immediately by a prevalence of <i>imber</i>. After this has lasted for +some time, it is usual for the water-carts to make their appearance."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>"<span class="sc">A Manchester Mother</span>" makes the following pertinent observations +on the fashions prevailing amongst men at the present day. +"Why," she asks, "should some men prefer boots with buttons, +while others like their boots laced? Why again should it be considered +right for some men to wear dark blue overcoats, and for +others to wear black? Finally, if a man standing six foot two in +his stocking-feet is to a bank holiday as a six-inch collar is to a pork-pie, +how comes it that a tartan waistcoat and a pair of green plush +trousers cost five shillings and sixpence per square inch?" We +confess that we are unable to find answers to these questions.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Two Policemen were yesterday observed in earnest conversation +with a well-known member of the Bermondsey Bull-pup Club. +Eventually the three Gentlemen departed for an adjacent police-station, +their proceedings forming a subject for animated comment +amongst the juvenile population of the neighbourhood.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Four receptions, six public dinners, five evening parties, and eight +dances were given in different parts of London yesterday, "to meet +Mr. <span class="sc">H. M. Stanley</span>." We are glad to know that the great explorer +maintains his imperturbable good humour.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class="sc">It</span> is computed that the number of pretty women in London this +Season is just double of what it was last year.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h3>SHORT MATHEMATICAL PAPER.</h3> + +<p>1. Solve the short equation (α + σ + σ + α + υ +λ + τ) × 2 = 14 days.</p> + +<p>2. Given log. ·321 and density γλυε, how much Port would you +deduce from this?</p> + +<p>3. Show under what circumstances P'liceman x<sup>2</sup> = Two-and-sixpence.</p> + +<p>4. What is the probability of two blue eyes becoming black if A, +a stranger, wins half-a-crown three times running at a baccarat-table +in Tottenham Court Road? Calculate to five places of decimals +the chances of A's appearance as prosecutor at Bow Street next +morning.</p> + +<p>5. Construct a set of Tables showing how the interest increases +in a geometrical progression as the principal is paid off. A., a flat, +goes to B., a money-lender, to raise £100. A. receives £7 10<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> +in gold; what balance will he receive in grand old sherry and +real Havana Bremerhaven cigars?</p> + +<p>6. Show how to re-construct a series of Companies (on the square), +with a million capital, within two months of formation, in such a +way that the Shareholders get nothing, and still remain liable for +future calls. Is the root of the above operation to be found in +defective legislation?</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page264" id="page264"></a>[pg 264]</span> + +<h3>THE ART OF BLACKING BOOTS.</h3> + +<p class="ind"><span class="sc">Dear Mr. Punch,</span></p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 160px"><a href="images/264-330.png"><img src="images/264-160.png" width="160" height="210" alt="" /></a></div> + +<p><span class="sc">You'll</span> be glad most likely to hear what's going on in the +boot-blackin' world, of which I'm now a honarery member, havin' +bin thirty-five years at it come next Chrismas, and now retired to +Camberwell to do the rest of my life easy. Fact is, Sir, there's a +many young 'uns come on, and scarcely sufficient +boots for 'em to get a livin out of, more +partikler with them new yaller boots, which is +pison to the honest boot-black. So thinks I +to myself, I've bin polishin' a long time and +knows all the tricks of it, why shouldn't I +lend a 'and to them as is startin'. I'll write +down what I knows myself, and I'll get all +the best blackers of the day to tell me what +they knows about it, and then I'll set the lot +together and get it printed. Fact is, I got put +on the job by a feller who come to see me +'tother day—a tidy young sprig, full of all +them new notions. Says 'e to me, "<span class="sc">Bill</span>," +'e says, "'ow do you walk?" "Why," I say, "on two legs +like the rest of 'em; what do you think?" "No," 'e says, +"that ain't what I mean, you Juggins" (there's a pretty word +to use to one old enough to be his father); "what is the process +you go through in walking?" "Well," I says, "if that's what +you're up to, I mostly puts one foot in front of 'tother, and +arterwards brings the back foot forrard and leaves 'tother behind." +"Ah," says 'e, "that's jest where you make a bloomin' errer. +Your brain sends a message through your nerves, and then you set +to work, movin' the extenser mussels and the glutyus maksimus, +and there you are." Well, I thought about that a lot, and on the +top of it I got 'old of a book called the Art of Authorship, by Mister +<span class="sc">George Bainton</span>, who's agoin' to teach everybody 'ow to write +things pretty and proper, and make no end of money out of it. +Pr'aps, thinks I to myself, there's more in blackin' boots than meets +the eye. I'll write about that on the same plan, gettin' all the +fellers I know to 'elp me. Fust, I drew up a lot of questions, and +I sent 'em round. Then when the ansers come in I got a young +chap, who writes for the <i>Camberwell Star</i>, to polish 'em up a bit +with grammar and spellin', asking 'im to do it like Mister <span class="sc">George +Bainton</span>. I've jest dropped in a word or two of my own 'ere and +there, to show what I mean. So 'ere they are, Sir, and quite at +your servis; and I knows if you prints 'em, there's many a boot-black +unborn, as'll bless your name, not forgettin',</p> + +<p class="author">Yours truely,</p> +<p class="author">the Author,</p> +<p class="author"><span class="sc">Bill the Bootblack</span>.</p> + +<h4><span class="sc">Introduction.</span></h4> + +<p><span class="sc">In</span> putting these notes together, I have been animated solely by +the desire to enable those, whom motives of self-interest, or of +ambition, or the irresistible impulse of innate genius, may induce +to enter upon the profession of blacking, to acquire by living examples +of acknowledged ability, a true and genuine perfection in the art. +For art it is. Let nobody undertake it lightly. There is no room +in the busy throng of ardent blackers for the idler or the fribble. +Such men may write books, they cannot black boots. Style is everything, +style which colours the boots, roots itself in them, and uplifts +them to the highest pinnacle of Art. (N.B.—I took this sentens +nearly strait from <span class="sc">George Bainton</span>.—<i>B. the B.</i>) Therefore, my +young friends, study style. Whenever you see a well-blacked boot +in the street, in the counting-house, or in the sanctity of home, fix +your eyes upon it. Thus you will learn, and may in time black +boots as well as I do myself.</p> + +<p>(N.B.—<span class="sc">George</span> writes the most extronery fine English, I'm told, +and o' course 'e wants the young 'uns to do the same. Same with +me and the boots.—<i>B. the B.</i>)</p> + +<p>My first answer is from <span class="sc">James Huggins</span>, who as is well-known, +polishes the foot-coverings of the innumerable visitors who throng +to the Transcontinental Hotel. He says, "you ask me how I +acquired my unquestioned ability as a blacker. I answer, 'by constantly +studying the best models.' When I was quite a small boy +I used to polish all the boots within reach, and I well remember my +father humorously remonstrating with me, when he found me +blacking an old pair of worsted slippers given him by my mother. +There is a method of breathing on some boots and of spitting on +others, which can only be acquired by long practice. A large boot +with many knobs, is best for a beginner."</p> + +<p>Next I addressed my inquiries to <span class="sc">George Brewsher</span>, more generally +known under his nick-name of <span class="sc">Dandy Geordie</span>. No man has a +wider reputation. His reply is instructive. "It is useless," he +says, "to study models. I tried that, and the result was that I +used to black all the patent leathers, and varnish the ordinary ones. +So I gave up study and relied upon my own talents. At the present +day, nobody in the whole world can put a truer shine on the dampest +boot. I scarcely know how I do it. I only know I do it. I always +keep my brushes in good order, drink a toothful of gin at bed-time, +and never let a single day pass without blacking something."</p> + +<p>My next reply was from <span class="sc">Lemuel D. Dodge</span>, of New York, a boot-polisher +whose delicate and refined style has won him admirers in +this country as well as his own. "Character," he observes, "is +everything. I always analyse my blacking three times over, and +then lay it on thin with a camel's hair-brush. I find this method +much more satisfactory and less tiring than the rough and ungainly +scrubbing so much in vogue with your English artists."</p> + +<p>Miss <span class="sc">Sally Pippin</span>, who officiates in The Metropolitan Ladies' +Boot Emporium, kindly sends me the following notes. "I have +had no education at all. I find it quite useless. All you require is +to make a shine. It's as easy as shelling peas. By the way, I +always wear my hair brought up at the back. This hint may be +useful to intending bootblacks."</p> + +<p>(That's enough for one go, I rayther fancy. There's lots more o' +the same sort all ekally valuble, but I mustn't let you have it all at +once.—<i>B. the B.</i>)</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/double_rule-1.png" width="250" height="10" alt="double rule" border="0" /></div> + +<h3>EARLY GREEN PEAS.</h3> + +<h4><i>A Gourmand's Ditty.</i></h4> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="sc">There's</span> a pleasure in Rhubarb, fresh, early and red,</p> +<p class="i2">When it comes with the flush of the newly born year,</p> +<p>There's a joy in the tasty Asparagus head</p> +<p class="i2">That is met with in soup, be it thick,—be it clear!</p> +<p>There's delight in the oyster; a peace that ne'er fails</p> +<p class="i2">In the placid enjoyment the Plover's egg brings,</p> +<p>A sense of calm peace in your nicely cooked quails,</p> +<p class="i2">But oh! there's one dish that will crown all these things;</p> +<p>For what, with such rapture the palate can please</p> +<p class="i2">As the first welcome helping of Early Green Peas!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>You may bring me Clyde salmon, three shillings the pound,</p> +<p class="i2">Red mullet in envelope, done to a turn,</p> +<p>The young spring potatoe, dug fresh from the ground,</p> +<p class="i2">The daintiest cream from a Devonshire churn:</p> +<p>You may offer me salad that's almost divine,</p> +<p class="i2">With a chicken so plump it should gladden the heart;</p> +<p>You may say, "Wash that down with the best brands of wine,</p> +<p class="i2">And follow it up with young gooseberry tart!"</p> +<p>My reply is but this, "Ah! withhold all of these!</p> +<p class="i2">But yield me the rapture of Early Green Peas!"</p> + </div> </div> + +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/double_rule-1.png" width="250" height="10" alt="double rule" border="0" /></div> + +<p><span class="dropcap1">T</span><b>HE</b> FIVE O'CLOCK TEA BONNET COMPANY.—Under the +above title a Fashionable Company has been inaugurated by +several high-born, but impecunious Ladies, who, importing a model +bonnet from Paris, and reproducing it in British materials, with +more or less success, hope, by a judicious association of the shopkeeping +instinct with the <i>recherché</i> gloze of the best social circles, to +dispose of their stock to a <i>clientèle</i>, consisting of the many toadying +and snobbish friends who would be caught by the idea of purchasing +their bonnets at an establishment where their orders would be taken +by an impoverished Lady of title, and delivered at their residences, +possibly, by the daughter of a Baronet or Nobleman, in reduced +circumstances. The rooms of the New Company that will be shortly +opened at the West End, in the immediate vicinity of Bond Street, +though supplied with a counter on which a few of the choicest +exhibits of the establishment can be displayed, will be in all other +respects furnished after the fashion of a Modern Upper-class May-Fair +Drawing-room, to which intending Purchasers will need no +voucher of admission beyond that furnished by their own visiting-card, +on presentation of which they will be greeted as friends, +making an afternoon call, by the Fore-lady, who may be temporarily +presiding over the Show-room. Indeed, the key-note to the <i>raison +d'être</i> of the <span class="sc">Five O'Clock Tea Bonnet Company</span> will be found in the +happy combination of High-class social intercourse, with a satisfactory +adhesion to the principles of ordinary West-End shopkeeping. No +special prices will be attached to the articles sold, but they may be +regarded on the whole, considering the advantageous social circumstances +under which they are established, as generally a little in +advance of those asked at the leading Professional West-End Establishments +of a similar kind. A generous margin in this direction +must, therefore, be looked for in the account. Bills, if required, when +contracted by well-known Leaders of Society, may stand over for +years, but a very handsome interest will, of course, be expected, in +the event of a long-delayed settlement.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/double_rule-1.png" width="250" height="10" alt="double rule" border="0" /></div> + +<p><span class="sc">Punch and "Judah."</span>—<i>Mr. P.</i> defers his criticism on <span class="sc">Henry +Author Jones's</span> new play at the Shaftesbury ... until he has gone +through the formality of seeing it. From most accounts, it is +evidently well worth a visit.</p> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<div class="figleft1"><img src="images/finger.png" width="32" height="14" alt="finger pointing" border="0" /> +</div> + <p class="center" style="margin-top: -0.2em;"> <b>NOTICE.</b>—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 class="full" /> + +<table align="center" summary="note" style="margin-top: 5em;"> +<tr><td class="note"> +<h4>Transcriber's Note:</h4> + +<p>This book contains a lot of dialect.</p> + +</td></tr></table> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. +98, May 31, 1890, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI *** + +***** This file should be named 33281-h.htm or 33281-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/3/2/8/33281/ + +Produced by Lesley Halamek, Malcolm Fraser and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://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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