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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/33717-8.txt b/33717-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4191387 --- /dev/null +++ b/33717-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1643 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 93. +September 17, 1887, by Various, Edited by F. C. Burnand + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 93. September 17, 1887 + + +Author: Various + +Editor: F. C. Burnand + +Release Date: September 13, 2010 [eBook #33717] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI, +VOL. 93. SEPTEMBER 17, 1887*** + + +E-text prepared by Neville Allen, Malcolm Farmer, and the Project +Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustrations. + See 33717-h.htm or 33717-h.zip: + (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/33717/33717-h/33717-h.htm) + or + (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/33717/33717-h.zip) + + + + + +PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI + +VOLUME 93. + +SEPTEMBER 17, 1887. + + + * * * * * + + +OUR IGNOBLE SELVES. + +(_Lament by a Reader of "Letters to the Papers."_) + +[Illustration] + + OH! bless us and save us! Like men to behave us + We Britons once held it our glory; + Now Party bids fair to befool and enslave us. + We're lost between Liberal and Tory! + Some quidnunc inditeth a letter to GLADSTONE, + The style of it, "Stand and deliver!" + Its speech may be rude, and its tone quite a cad's tone, + Its logic may make a man shiver. + _Au contraire_ it _may_ be most lucid and modest, + In taste and in pertinence equal + (Though such a conjunction would be of the oddest), + But what, anyhow, is the sequel? + Rad papers _all_ cry, "We've once more before us + An instance of folly inrushing." + Whilst _all_ the Conservative Journals in chorus + Declare "it is perfectly crushing!" + "Little Pedlington's" snubbed by the Liberal Press, + And urged such fool tricks to abandon. + Cry Tories, "I guess the Old Man's in a mess, + He hasn't a leg left to stand on!" + Oh! save us and bless us! The shirt of old Nessus, + Was not such a snare to the hero, + As poisonous faction. Crass fools we confess us, + With sense and with spirit at zero. + If thus we comport us like blind sprawling kittens, + Or pitiful partisan poodles, + 'Twill prove Party makes e'en of freeminded Britons, + A race of incontinent noodles! + + * * * * * + +"TO TEAPOT BAY AND BACK." + +LONDONERS who like but are weary of the attractions of Eastend-on-Mud, +and want a change, can scarcely do better than spend twenty-four hours +in that rising watering-place Teapot Bay. I say advisedly "rising," +because the operation has been going on for more than forty years. In +these very pages a description of the "juvenile town," appeared nearly +half a century ago. Then it was said that the place was "so infantine +that many of the houses were not out of their scaffold-poles, whilst +others had not yet cut their windows," and the place has been growing +ever since--but very gradually. The "ground plan of the High Street" of +those days would still be useful as a guide, although it is only fair to +say that several of the fields then occupied by cabbages are now to some +extent covered with empty villas labelled "To Let." In the past the High +Street was intersected by roads described as "a street, half houses, +half potatoes," "a street apparently doing a good stroke of business," +"a street, but no houses," "a street indigent, but houseless," "a street +which appears to have been nipped in the kitchens," "a street thickly +populated with three inhabitants," and last but not least, "a street in +such a flourishing condition that it has started a boarding-house and +seminary." The present condition of Teapot Bay is much the same--the +roads running between two lines of cellars (contributions to houses that +have yet to be built) are numerous and testify to good intentions never +fulfilled. There is the same meaningless tower with a small illuminated +clock at the top of it, and if the pier is not quite so long as it was +thirty or forty years ago, it still seems to be occupying the same site. + +[Illustration: Cheap and Picturesque Roots for Tourists.] + +The means of getting to Teapot Bay is by railway. Although no doubt +numbered amongst the cheap and picturesque routes for tourists, the +place is apparently considered by the authorities as more or less of a +joke. Margate, Ramsgate, Westgate and Broadstairs, are taken _au +sérieux_, and have trains which keep their time; but Teapot Bay, +seemingly, is looked upon as a legitimate excuse for laughter. If two +trains are fixed to start at 12, and 12.30, the twelve o'clock train +will leave at 12.30, and the 12.30 at 1. The authorities endeavour to +have a train in hand at the end of the day, and I fancy are generally +successful in carrying out their intentions. But between London and +Teapot Bay there are many slippery carriages, which stop at various +Junctions, and refuse to go any further in the required direction. When +this happens, the weary traveller has to descend, cross a platform, and +try another line. If he is a man of determination, and is not easily +disheartened, nine times out of ten he ultimately reaches Teapot Bay, +where his arrival causes more astonishment than gratification. + +When I got to this "rising watering-place" the other day, I found an +omnibus in waiting, ready to carry me to the town, which is some little +distance from the station. We travelled by circular tour, which included +a trot through many of the fields of my boyhood, now, alas! potatoless, +and covered with weeds! In one of these fields I noticed a canvas booth, +three or four flags, and a group of about twenty spectators, inspecting +a gentleman in a scarlet coat, mounted on rather a large-boned horse. + +"They still have a country-fair here?" I suggested to the person who had +collected my sixpence. + +"That isn't a fair, Sir--them's the Races," was the reply. + +"Not very well attended, I fear?" I observed. + +[Illustration: A Circular Tour.] + +"Better than they was last year--why the whole town has gone to see them +this time." + +A little later we reached the principal inn of the place, which was +described in a local Handbook as "an old-established hotel, but +comfortable." Rather, to my annoyance (as I was anxious to preserve my +_incognito_), I was received by the landlord with respectful cordiality. +"Glad you have honoured us, Sir--proud of your presence." + +I made a sign to him not to betray me, and asked for my room. + +"Well, Sir, we must put _you_ into the Rotunda." + +Again by a gesture inviting silence as to my identity, I mounted a +flight of stairs, and found myself in a room that once, I think, must +have been entirely arbour. Much of the arbour still remained, but a +large slice had been partitioned off affording space for a +chimney-piece, two chairs, a washstand and a bed. By opening a window +which reached to the ground, I found myself on a balcony covered in with +creepers, and beneath which was a gas-lamp labelled "Hotel Tap." In +front of me was a field with the foundation (long since completed) for +some houses at the end of it. On my left another field in the same state +of passive preparation, and on my right a side view of the Ocean. It was +growing dark, so after an "old-fashioned but comfortable" dinner, I went +out for a stroll. + +"Pleased you should honour us," said the landlord, as he opened the door +to allow me to pass. Again to my annoyance, as it was vexatious to be +thus identified in this out-of-the-way place as one of the celebrities +of the hour. + +The visitors and other inhabitants of Teapot Bay had returned from the +Races, and were walking on the pier listening to the band. The gentlemen +were in flannels, the ladies decorated with yards of white ribbon. The +band was more select than numerous. Its conductor beat time with his +left hand, while with his right he played the "air" of the tune at the +moment attracting his attention upon an elaborate instrument that looked +like a cross between a clarionet and an old-fashioned brass serpent. +There was not much drumming, because the drummer spent nearly all his +ample leisure on more or less successful efforts to vend programmes. The +band was in a gusty alcove at one end of the pier, a small room covered +with placards of a Wizard who, after making the acquaintance of "The +Crowned Heads of Europe," was to perform there "to-night," was at the +other. Having soon exhausted the pleasure derivable from listening to +the band, I sought out the wizard. + +"Oh, he ain't going to do it again until next Saturday," was the answer +of a little girl who had charge of a turnstile, when I asked for a +ticket. "But you can see him then." + +[Illustration: "You're up!"] + +I retired. As all the shops (possibly a couple of dozen) were closed, I +returned to my hotel--really a very comfortable one. In the morning I +thought I would have a sea-bath. There were a few machines, which were +manipulated with ropes and windlasses. There was an elderly man in +charge, who informed me that he could not lower one of these vehicles +until his mate returned. + +"Gone to breakfast?" I suggested. + +"Breakfast--no one here has time for breakfast!" was the reply. + +When I left, the landlord again murmured his thanks for the honour I had +done him by patronising his hotel. Still anxious to preserve my +_incognito_, in bidding him adieu I begged him not to allow my name to +appear in the Visitors' List. + +"You may be sure I won't Sir," said he with a bow as he opened the door, +and a tip-inviting "boots" put my portmanteau on the omnibus starting +for the station,--"_as I don't know it!_" + +On the whole I prefer Eastend-on-Mud to Teapot Bay! + + * * * * * + +A PRETTY CENTENARIAN. + +(_Mr. Bull's Song on Miss Columbia's Hundredth Birthday._) + + "The chief authorities of the several States of this Union have + resolved to celebrate, on the 15th, 16th, and 17th days of September + next, at Philadelphia, the first centennial anniversary of the + framing of the Constitution of the United States, with military and + industrial displays, and with other suitable ceremonies."--_Letter + of Invitation to Mr. Gladstone from the Constitutional Centennial + Commission._ + +[Illustration: _John Bull._ "A Hundred Years Old, my Dear! Who would +have thought it! But then you have such a wonderful constitution!"] + +AIR.--"_I'm getting a Big Boy now._" + + YOU have passed through the troubles of national youth, + (To have safely survived them's a boon,) + You have out your eye-teeth, you look pretty, in truth, + But much the reverse of a "spoon." + We gaze on you fondly, admiringly, dear; + Few traces of age on _your_ brow. + A hundred this year? Then it's perfectly clear + You are getting a great girl now. + +_Chorus._ + + You are getting a great girl now, + And you know it, COLUMBIA, I trow. + Philadelphia's "boom" + Leaves for doubt little room + That you're getting a great girl now. + + I feel like Papa, who though elderly's fresh, + And with younkers can sympathise still; + You are bone of my bone, you are flesh of my flesh, + And I bear you the warmest good-will. + _My_ centennial dates which have rapidly run, + I have given up counting, somehow; + Like me, you'll be learning life is not _all_ fun, + For you're getting a great girl now. + +_Chorus._ + + You are getting a great girl now. + With health and that radiant brow, + One hardly would say + You're a hundred to-day, + Though you're getting a great girl now. + + You've gone in for Parties.--my plague, dear, at home; + If anyone's sick of 'em _I_ am,-- + Your land is so large you need hardly to roam, + Yet you're known from St. James's to Siam. + We greet you as Cousin, our family throng + Is wide, but you're welcome, I vow. + Come often, stay long, you can hardly do wrong, + Though you're getting a great girl now. + +_Chorus._ + + You are getting a great girl now, + The rawness of youth you outgrow. + I am proud of your looks, + Like your art, and your books; + You _are_ getting a great girl now. + + To your big birthday party 'twas kind to invite + My WILLIAM; I'm sure he'd have come + And danced at your ball with the greatest delight, + But for years, and some business at home. + He's really a marvel, you know, for his age; + At your great Philadelphia pow-wow + He'd have reeled you off columns of talk, I'll engage, + Though he's getting an Old Boy now. + +_Chorus._ + + He's getting an Old Boy now, + Yet but for our big Irish row, + He'd have come like a shot, + And orated a lot, + Though he's getting an Old Boy now. + + Your health, my COLUMBIA! A hundred? Seems queer! + What a sweet Centenarian you make! + I suppose it's your fine "Constitution," my dear; + Which nothing, I hope, will e'er shake. + You have proved you have not only swiftness, but stay; + Well, long may you flourish and grow! + Many happy--and hearty--returns of the Day! + You are getting a great girl now! + +_Chorus._ + + You are getting a great girl now; + May you prosper, and keep out of row; + Shun bunkum and bawl, + All that's shoddy and small, + For you're getting a _great_ girl now! + + * * * * * + +THE FATHER OF THE MAN. + +A CASE of some interest to Self-made Men, the conviction of a boy fined +half-a-crown for playing, with some other boys, the game of "brag," +occasioned Mr. SHIEL, on the Southwark Bench, to observe that "Gambling +was the first step towards crime. Boys who began with gambling, very +often ended by being thieves." Too often, perhaps, but, it may be hoped, +not always. The boy who begins by playing at pitch-and-toss, surely +doesn't always grow up to be a man who actually commits manslaughter. He +may possibly stop short of larceny, burglary, or housebreaking, and do +nothing worse than getting a useless, but not absolutely criminal +livelihood, by betting on the Derby and the St. Leger, or speculating on +the Stock Exchange. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: FORM. + +_Public School Boy (to General Sir George, G.C.B., G.S.I., V.C., &c. &c. +&c.)_ "I SAY, GRANDPAPA,--A--WOULD YOU MIND JUST PUTTING ON YOUR HAT _A +LITTLE STRAIGHTER?_ HERE COMES _CODGERS_--HE'S AWFULLY PARTICULAR--AND +HE'S THE _CAPTAIN OF OUR ELEVEN, YOU KNOW!_"] + + * * * * * + +WORDS IN SEASON. + +NEWS are by no means wanting in the newspapers. A surprising telegram +from Vienna announces that:-- + + "A large shark has been captured close to the harbour of Fiume. It + is four and a half mètres long, and weighs 1,460 kilogrammes. The + stomach contained a pair of human feet with the boots on." + +The shark with two feet, and boots inside of it to boot, beats JERROLD'S +"San Domingo Billy," in _Black Eyed Susan_, with a watch in his +maw--whereby hung a yarn. Provincial journals, please copy, and report a +jack that was so big as to have swallowed jack-boots. You may calculate +that they will go down with some of your readers too. Nothing like +leather. + +The gooseberry season is over, but if this were the height of it, the +prodigious fruit of that family would be unmentionable to any scientific +assembly. Nevertheless, Dr. C. FALBERG read a paper to an audience at +the British Association upon "Saccharine, the New Sweet Product of Coal +Tar," which, in connection with the John Hopkins' University (U.S.) he +discovered in 1879. Coal tar has been brought to a pretty pitch. He +averred this saccharine to be 250 times sweeter than sugar. Must have +used nice means to calculate that quantity of the quality of sweetness. +Said it had become an article of commerce--had a large sale in Germany, +was perfectly harmless, he had himself used it for nine years, and it +produced no injurious effect upon him. Apparently, then, he used to eat +it, and if he didn't might have invited his hearers likewise to eat him. +This "Saccharine" bears a somewhat long name, which, as it is a +commercial article, might perhaps be compendiously replaced with +"Sugarine." + +The sea-serpent, _Python marinus--Python Ambulatoris_, or _Python +Walkerii_--seems not just yet to have been satisfactorily sighted either +by sailors or marines. However, he may be expected to turn up again very +soon, this time probably coiled in constrictor fashion, as an oceanic +ophidian, around a Laocoön or leviathan of a species very like a whale. + + * * * * * + +The Duke's Motto. + +MR. DUKE, Secretary to the Liberal-Unionists, says that they consider +Liberal reunion as desirable, but "with one opinion" they decline to do +anything until publicly authorised to do so by Lord HARTINGTON and the +Liberal-Unionist leaders. This DUKE'S motto is evidently "Ditto to Lord +HARTINGTON." DUKE'S "Dittos" may in future pair off with GLADSTONE'S +"Items." + + * * * * * + +A VERY PRETTY TALE BY ANDERSON. + +MY DEAR MR. PUNCH, + +In producing _The Winter's Tale_ at the Lyceum, that most charming young +actress, Miss MARY ANDERSON, deserves well, not only of her country (if +she insists upon calling England "abroad," like some of her +compatriots), but also of our country, which, I presume, was furthermore +the country of her ancestors. If the shade of Master WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE +will pardon the liberty, the play is a very good one. It has an +interesting plot, with plenty of scope for good acting, good music, and +last, and not least, good scenery. Why it should not have been revived +before I cannot imagine, unless it be that London theatres have men and +not ladies to manage them. Had it been produced in the IRVING _régime_, +Miss ELLEN TERRY could have played--and played well--the parts of +_Hermione_ and _Perdita_; but I fail to see where the name of the lessee +would have come in. _Leontes_ is not a very prominent personage, and +even had it been coupled with _Autolycus_, still the demands upon Mr. +IRVING'S talent would have been insufficient, not only to please +himself, but also (which is of equal importance) to satisfy the +audience. + +[Illustration: A Picture from the Stone.] + +However, when Miss ANDERSON takes the reins of stage management in to +her own fair and shapely hands, the necessity of providing for a +tragedian of the first class disappears. The "leading man" of her +company is Mr. FORBES-ROBERTSON--a most talented person. He can paint +pictures, and play remarkably well in certain characters. His _Captain +Absolute_ was far from bad, and his _Romeo_ more than good. As _Leontes_ +he has a part rather out of his line; but, all things considered, he +fills it very well. It may be objected that he is rather effeminate, and +that his costume would have been more becoming had he worn what the +ladies (I believe) term "half sleeves;" but for all that, his reading of +the character was entirely conscientious, if not absolutely right. But +naturally the success of Saturday evening was Miss ANDERSON, who was as +matronly dignified as _Hermione_, as she was deliciously girlish as +_Perdita_. She "looked" both parts to perfection. It may be my fancy, +but I imagine she has greatly improved since we saw her last in London. +The bass notes of her silvery voice have mellowed, and her attitudes, +always graceful, are seemingly now more spontaneous, and consequently +more natural. Charming as _Juliet_, she is more charming as _Hermione_, +and most charming as _Perdita_. Nothing prettier than her dance in the +"Pastoral Scene" has been seen in a London Theatre for many a long +year. + +[Illustration: Young and Harpy.] + +And my reference to the "Pastoral Scene," (by Mr. HAWES CRAVEN) recalls +the fact to my mind that all the scenery is excellent. The _Palace of +Leontes_ by Mr. W. TELBIN, is only equalled by Mr. W. TELBIN'S _Queen's +Apartment_, and a wonderful cloth of a roadside with a view of a flock +of sheep grazing on the brow of a hill (again by Mr. HAWES CRAVEN, who +seems to have become Artist in Ordinary to Arcadia), is not more +remarkable than Mr. HANN'S Court of Justice. In the last stage-picture +it is possible, but not probable, that the hypercritical might suggest +that the accessories are slightly suggestive of a kitchen, on the score +that the altar is something like a silver grill, and the Court Herald +appears, during a portion of the action of the piece, to be cooking +chops. Personally, I think this idea rather far-fetched, although, of +course, there is some resemblance (no doubt purely accidental) between +the helmets of the soldiers and the brass coal-scuttle of a modern +drawing-room. And I will even go further, and admit that, to a careless +observer, some of the warriors may appear to be wearing the garb of +Harlequin; but when it is hinted that _Leontes_, in his first attitude +on his throne, is not unlike a Guy on the Fifth of November, I feel that +the wish must be father of the thought, and that the resemblance is +purely imaginary. + +[Illustration: A Scene on its Metal.] + +Leaving the scenery to come to the acting, I may say that the play is +generally well cast. Mr. MACLEAN and Mr. CHARLES COLLETTE are both very +amusing, the first as _Camillo_, and the last as _Autolycus_, and Mr. +GEORGE WARDE is quietly humorous with the baby. When I say quietly +humorous, I do not mean that he trenches in the least on the ground +occupied by either the Clown of Pantomime or the Clown of SHAKSPEARE. He +does not sit upon the infant, or throw it about--no, nor even sing to it +a little comic song. He gets all his effects by merely carrying it +quietly about, and showing it, with an assumption of gravity that is +killing, to Mr. FORBES-ROBERTSON. To turn to the less important +characters of the play, Mr. DAVIES as a gaoler suggests that in "those +days" prison officials were sometimes whatever happened to be the +equivalent of the period to the modern "masher." Miss ZEFFIE TILBURY, +Miss HELENA DACRE, and Miss DESMOND ("1st Lady with a song" and gigantic +lyre) are all equally good, and even the subordinate female parts have +efficient representatives. + +Returning to the gentlemen (a difficult task when it entails leaving +such pleasant company) Mr. F. H. MACKLIN as _Polixenes_ is sufficiently +robust in his manly bearing to suggest the necessary contrast with +_Leontes_, and Mr. FULLER MELLISH is picturesque, painstaking and +conscientious as _Florizel_. + +[Illustration: An Infant Phenomenon.] + +I began with Miss ANDERSON and (much to my regret) I must end with her. +She is equally charming as _Hermione_ and _Perdita_. Her cry of horror +and dead faint in the Hall of Justice on learning of the loss of +_Mamillius_, is one of many points that profoundly impressed the +audience, and in her comedy scene with _Polixenes_ in Act I, in which +she asks him _à propos_ of _Leontes_, "Was not my lord the verier wag o' +the two?" her smiling glance at her sombre lord is simply inimitable. I +can quite fancy that _Leontes_ when he saw _Hermione_, and _Florizel +Perdita_, must have talked of their condition (allowing for the loss of +their hearts) as I describe myself when I assume the signature of + +ONE WHO HAS GONE TO PIECES. + + * * * * * + +A PLEA FOR THE BIRDS. + +(_To the Ladies of England._) + +[Illustration] + + Lo! the sea-gulls slowly whirling + Over all the silver sea, + Where the white-toothed waves are curling, + And the winds are blowing free. + There's a sound of wild commotion, + And the surge is stained with red; + Blood incarnadines the ocean, + Sweeping round old Flamborough Head. + + For the butchers come unheeding + All the torture as they slay, + Helpless birds left slowly bleeding, + When the wings are reft away. + There the parent bird is dying, + With the crimson on her breast, + While her little ones are lying + Left to starve in yonder nest. + + What dooms all these birds to perish, + What sends forth these men to kill, + Who can have the hearts that cherish + Such designs of doing ill? + Sad the answer: English ladies + Send those men, to gain each day + What for matron and for maid is + All the Fashion, so folks say. + + Feathers deck the hat and bonnet. + Though the plumage seemeth fair, + _Punch_, whene'er he looks upon it, + Sees that slaughter in the air. + Many a fashion gives employment + Unto thousands needing bread, + This, to add to your enjoyment, + Means the dying and the dead. + + Wear the hat, then, _sans_ the feather, + English women, kind and true; + Birds enjoy the summer weather + And the sea as much as you. + There's the riband, silk, or jewel, + Fashion's whims are oft absurd; + This is execrably cruel; + Leave his feathers to the bird! + + * * * * * + +ROBERT AT MARLOW. + +"HERE we are again!" as the Clown says in the Pantermine, at butiful +Great Marlow, looking jest as bootiful as ever, though there is jest a +few tears a falling from the dark clowds coz the sun doesn't shine as it +did when we was in grand old Lundon last week, and turn all the drops of +rain into reel dimons. My son WILLIAM has cum with us, and he says as +how this lovely place makes quite a Poet of him, so he dashed off the +following description of it larst nite when the rain was a coming down +in palefuls, witch we all thinks to be amost as butiful as it's trew:-- + + "To Marlow have we come, a little city, + Famous for pretty girls and boating, he + Who has not seen it, will be much to pity, + So says King ROBERT, and I quite agree + Of all the towns on Thames there's none more pretty, + Pangbourne perhaps, but that you soon may see. + Our nice clean lodging's near the flowing river, + A noble stream, much like the Guadalquiver." + +I haven't corrected none of his rayther rum spelling, but writ it down +jest as he wrote it all out of his hone hed. Not having ever herd of the +place that he says the River is like, I natrally arsked him where it +were, and he said in Sow Ameriky. What it is to be not only a Poet but a +geolergist as well! ah, it's all owing to the Bellowsmender's Skool. + +I don't find much difference in the old Place xcep that it's gitting +bigger, witch it's a pity, but how can one be surprized. If peeple finds +out a perfec pairodice they natrally tells their friends of it, and so +more cums ewery year. Among others we've got a real live Hem Pea, but +he's here on the sly, having told the Tory Whip as he's bin obligated to +go to Swizzerland to see his pore sick Mother-in-Law! A nice sort of +green Whip he must ha' bin to be so eesily gammond. His wally told me as +he had shaved off his beard so nobody knowed him, but for fear of +accidence he passes ewery Satterday and Sunday at a farm yard inland. +Wot a lively life for a reel Swell! + +I've ony bin here jest a few days, and I've had another startling +adwenture. I never seed such a plaice as this is for adwentures. I had +taken my favorit stroll to Temple Lock, and had my customary chat with +the werry intellegent Lock Keeper there on things in general, and +Locksmen's trubbles in partickler, and was walking gently home, wen I +herd the most unusual report of Guns close by me, on the hopposite Bank; +and jest as I came up to where they was a shooting, I seed three Gents +raise their sanguinary Rifels and haim bang at my dewoted hed! I hadn't +time to shout tout or to run away, so I had to stand it like a traitor +or a dezerter. Luckely they missed me, and, laying down their murdrous +weppons, went into the ouse. I was so prostrated with estonishment that +I remaned fixt on the spot. Luckely my son WILLIAM came by in a Bote, so +I hollowed to him, and, getting in, he pulled me across the foaming +River. I luckely remembered hearing 2 of the Tems Consewatifs a torking +at the LORD MARE'S Bankwet about the Buy Lors, and that one on em was a +fine of 40_s_. for ewerrybody as shot a gun across the River. So, harmed +with this nollidge, I at wunce adrest myself to the estonished Gents +about the enormous sum as they wood have to pay me if as how as I went +and told. I had bin a making the Calkerlashon all the way across, so I +was able to say boldly, eleven shots, at 40_s_. per shot, is twenty-too +pound! One of the gents turned gashly pail, and another sed as they +woodn't do it not never no more, so I kindly promist not to do wot I +might do, and rode away in our Bote with the feeling of a Judge a +pardoning 3 criminals. They did say as they could not have bin a haiming +at me becoz they fired up in the hair, where the birds was; but how was +I to know that, wen the dedly weppens was pinted bang at me, and how, +too, about the falling bullets? They must have bin quite fust-rate +shots, for wen a hole flock of pidgeons flew into their garden, amost +close to 'em, they all three fired at the lot, and acshally wounded one +of 'em, poor thing. + +When warking by the side of the River this arternoon, I was arsked by a +young, but not werry successful angler, what o'clock it was. I told him, +in course, and he said as he coudn't fish no more, as it was lunch time, +so we warked along together, and he told me all his trubbels. He had bin +at it for five days, and had never cort but one fish, and he was too +little to keep. He was a nice brite young chap, so I simpathised with +him. He said other peeple cort plenty of fish, but they came and looked +at his bait, and then turned round and swum away; so I gave him a bit of +adwice as I had wunce herd of. Don't buy your flys, I ses, but make 'em +yourself. Anythink will do if it has 4 legs, and 2 wings made of gorze. +And when the fishes sees it they will say to one another, "Hullo, BILL, +here's a rum-looking fly--I never tasted one like him--so here goes," +and he gobbles up your fly, and so you has him slick. How my young frend +did larf. Ah, says he, that's the frute of indulging your curiossity. +I'll set to work this evening and make one, as I've no dout he did. + +I took a walk this morning in butiful Quarry Woods, but O what a site +met my gaze! It used to be one of the atrakshuns of the place for +anyboddy as could walk. What is it now? All the roads as bin dug up, and +left so, and at the entrance to the lovely paths there are orrid bords +put up, saying, "No path--trespassers persecuted." But it isn't true. +They are Paths, and they leads everywhere, and I wasn't persecuted. All +the finest trees are smeared over with dirty bills, saying, "No person +allowed to camp, land, or picknick," and sumbody had added, "Or cough, +or sneeze, without permission!" As a poor feller said to me, who was +hobbling along on the horful road, and who knew the late propryeter, +"Ah, a kind, Cristian Landlord ought to live as long as he posserbly +can, for he never can tell what's to foller." + +There's a place there where the Wolunteers practises firing, and I'm +afraid they must be werry careless, for they writes up, "No one must +damage the property of the Corpse," which is werry kind of 'em, so far. + +ROBERT. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: A VIKING ON MODERN FASHION. + +"WHAT DOES T'LASS WANT WI' YON _BOOSTLE_ FOR? IT AREN'T BIG ENOUGH TO +_SMOGGLE_ THINGS, AND SHE CAN'T _STEER_ HERSELF WI' IT!"] + + * * * * * + +THE WAIL OF THE MALE; + +_Being a British Workman's View of the Cheap Female Labour Question, +respectfully submitted to the Trades Union Congress._ + +_Bill Smith to his Shopmate, Ben Jones, loquitur_:-- + + EH? Give 'em the Suffrage--the Women? Why not? + What else, that's worth having, lads, _haven't_ they got? + If it's levelling up, let 'em have it all round, + And _we_ shan't be the first to complain, I'll be bound. + They've cut down our wages, and copied our coats, + And I really don't see why they shouldn't have Votes. + Wish _I_ was a woman, old fellow, that's flat; + I should then have a chance, and know what to be at. + I have just got the "bullet," Mate--sacked without notice, + I wonder what pull _my_ possessin' the Vote is? + _She_ hasn't got ne'er a one--_she's_ got my job, + I lose a fair crib, and the boss saves ten bob! + I've been at it five years, kept a family on it, + And she--well, the first thing she buys is a bonnet! + They're cutting us out, Mate--the Women are--straight, + And I s'pose it's no use for to kick agen Fate, + But it seems blooming hard on the wife and the kids, + _She_'s a woman, of course, though she can't earn the "quids," + But then, being married, she's out of the hunt + For earning or votes. Look here, BILL! If they shunt + You and me, and our like, as they're doing all round, + Because Women are cheap, and there's heaps to be found, + Won't it come to this, sooner or later, my boy, + That the most of us chaps will be out of employ, + Whilst the Women will do all the work there's to do, + And keep us, and the kids, _on about half our "screw"_? + Who's a-going to gain by that there but the boss? + And for everyone else it is bound to be loss. + A nice pooty look-out! Oh, I know what they say;-- + That the women work better than us for less pay, + And are much less the slaves of the pint and the pot; + What's that got to do with it? All tommy rot! + We have all got to live, and if women-folk choose + To collar our cribs or to cut down our screws, + _They_ will have to be bread-winners, leaving us chaps + To darn stockings at home with the kids on our laps. + Well, I hope as they'll like it. I tell you what, neighbour, + The world's being ruined by petticoat labour. + Besides, Mate, in spite of this Woman's Rights fuss, + Work don't make 'em better _as_ women, but wus. + It mucks 'em for marriage, and spiles 'em for home, + 'Cos their notion of life is to racket and roam. + Just look at that work-girl there, her with the fringe! + She's a nice pooty specimen! Makes a chap cringe + To think of that flashy young chit as a wife, + That's what cheap woman labour will do for our life. + Oh, give 'em the Vote, and the breeks, while you're at it, + Make 'em soldiers, and Bobbies, and bosses. But, drat it, + If this blessed new-fangled game's to prewail, + I pities the beggar who's born a poor Male! + + * * * * * + +BACKING BACO. + +THE movements of Prince FERDINAND, as recently reported, appear to be +shrouded in some mystery. It was announced that his Mamma was about to +join him, and that a suite of apartments was being already prepared for +her reception at the Palace. No sooner, however, was this encouraging +piece of news published, than it was followed by a sinister rumour that +the Prince himself was about to hurry off from Sofia to Baco, one of his +country-seats on the frontiers of Hungary. As there is no mention of his +being accompanied by his _suite_, it is doubtful if, in going to Baco, +the Prince intended to take "returns." Naturally the Sobranje would like +to be assured that, in going to Baco, he was really only going there and +back, and did not mean, as the name of the place might suggest, to back +out of the situation altogether. But perhaps there may not be, after +all, any good foundation for the story of the proposed journey, in which +event all this disturbing talk of a visit to Baco will probably end, as +it naturally should, in smoke. + + * * * * * + +DEAR AT THE PRICE.--The farmers of Derbyshire have been meeting together +and trying to fix "the price of milk during the ensuing winter." Well, +the price that we in London pay for milk seems only too often to +be--scarlet fever. _That_ price requires regulating. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: THE "FINAL TABLEAU." + +("A CONSUMMATION DEVOUTLY TO BE WISHED."--SHAKSPEARE.)] + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: PROBLEM. TO FIND THE LAW COURTS. + +(_Sketched on the spot, Arundel Street, Victoria Embankment._)] + + * * * * * + +HOUSE AND HOME. + +MY DEAR MONEYPENNY, + +PRAY excuse one more refusal of your kind and seasonable invitation, so +often repeated, to come and stay with you at the "Sycamores." Believe +me, there is nobody in the world than yourself I had rather live with if +obliged to choose somebody. But to pass more than a few hours at a +stretch in anyone's house besides my own, is more than I can abide, +unless now and then for a night or so at an hotel, where I am not +expected to notice anybody, and nobody minds me except the waiters in +attendance, whom I am not ashamed of giving trouble. Besides, my dear +fellow, you have no idea of what my making myself at home in your +quarters as I do in my own would mean. Am in the first place, a very +late riser. If my mind is occupied with any problem, usually lie in bed +and think it out, very often until noon, or, even later. + +When I have done breakfast (invariably taken in my own room), I always +smoke a pipe, and then set-to at reading or writing for a longer or +shorter time, and go on smoking at intervals in the meanwhile. Sometimes +sit and meditate till I lapse into a brown study, and am then liable to +dream day-dreams, and fall into fits of unconscious cerebration, in +which I frequently start up and spout SHAKSPEARE, or sing songs, or hum +passages in operas, oratorios, symphonies, and overtures, a trick which, +as my voice is very harsh and discordant, would of course be most +irritating and offensive to anybody who could hear me, as would be +generally the case anywhere out of my own den. Could never bear to be +punctual to meal times, must always dine at what time it suits me; am +utterly incapable of observing regular hours. + +So I might go on. But I trust I have now said enough to show you what a +bore I should be if I were to repay your generous importunity to become +your guest and do whatever I pleased so ill as to comply with it. +Enough. I am afraid I have already bored you with much too long a +letter. Let me only add that almost all social amusements, particularly +cards and dancing, and every sort of small talk, common-place +conversation, chaff, or gossip, or discussion of any subject, except +philosophy, science, politics and theology, on which I am prone to +argument, whilst my opponents generally lose their temper--are all so +many bores of the very first magnitude to your sincerely candid and +scrupulously outspoken friend, + +_Tub Snuggery._ ANTONY CAVEBEAR. + + * * * * * + +THE BRIGAND'S DOOM. + +_Brief libretto for a Trades-Unionist Grand Opera written up to date._ + + _The Scene represents a Country Mansion surrounded by its grounds. + Members of the New Labour Electoral Association discovered hanging + about in threatening attitudes. As the Curtain rises they sing the + following Chorus_:-- + +CHORUS. + + SEE us here, in jubilation, + A brand-new Association. + Still, the truth to tell, although + What we want we don't quite know. + We are bound the world to wake, + If sufficient noise we make. + Hail our programme then with bliss, + Which is, briefly stated, this: + No longer we'll trust representative nous, + But force for ourselves Parliamentary gates, + As Members we'll take our own seats in the House, + And have our expenses paid out of the rates. + +A LOCAL RATEPAYER (_andante_). + + Nay, nay! To take your seats, you're free, + But not, oh! not, to burthen me! + Enough am I already charged, + And would not see the sum enlarged, + Your pay,--that is your own affair; + I care not whence it emanates: + I only most distinctly swear, + You shall not get it from the rates. + +CHORUS (_advancing on him threateningly_). + + Be still, and know that the whole nation, + Bows down to the Association! + [_The Local Ratepayer cowers before them._ + And yet this question of the land + We own we don't quite understand. + Is there no specialist who'll try + To make it clear? + +_Enter_ Mr. JOSEPH ARCH. _He bounds into their midst._ + +MR. JOSEPH ARCH. + + Why here am I! + You want your intellect to march? + [_They express assent._ + Then listen all to JOSEPH ARCH. + [_They group themselves in attentive + positions gracefully about him._ + +BALLAD. + + A man may own jewels and gold, + A piano, horse, railway shares, + A cellar of wine, new or old, + A house, and the clothes that he wears. + Everything he may sell, or may buy, + That is purchased by wealth or by toil; + But he mustn't own--no matter why-- + A single square yard of the soil. + He this who from HODGE, its true owner, perverts, + Is a brigand, and merits a brigand's deserts! + + This park that around you you see, + These gardens you so much admire, + Each hedgerow, each copse, every tree, + Is the owner's bequeathed from his sire. + He may have remitted his rents! + What of that till the Nation cries "Quits!" + His land, with the march of events, + Being purloined and cut up into bits? + For until to its true owner, HODGE, it reverts,-- + He's a brigand, and merits a brigand's deserts! + + [_At the conclusion of the ballad_ Mr. JOSEPH ARCH _gives a signal + and the_ OWNER OF THE PROPERTY _is led on in the custody of + Trade-Union Myrmidons_. + +CHORUS. + + Rob him! fleece him! gag him! seize him! + Drive him from his country place. + Of his right of tenure ease him; + Call him "Brigand" to his face! + +OWNER OF THE PROPERTY (_recitative_). + + Oh, outrage horrible + And entirely unsatisfactory, + Thus to fasten with salutations + Eminently unpalatable + On the defenceless monied one of the County! + Know ye not that my venerated sire, + A Soap-boiler successful in his line of business + Beyond his wildest visions, + Purchased for eighty thousand pounds sterling, + These acres, as an investment + Speculative and commercial. + Say, then, is it reasonable that I, + His hopeful heir and offspring, + Should be defrauded of what, + At present prices agricultural, + Is but a return dim and disappointing + On his original outlay. + Why call me "Brigand"? Tell me why? + +MR. JOSEPH ARCH (_con fuoco_). + + Your father had no right to buy, + And, as the land to HODGE is due, + We take it thus by force from you! + +_A Crowd of Radical Land Reformers rush in, and seizing on the property, +hew down the timber, cut away the brushwood, and parcel it out into +small allotments._ + +OWNER OF THE PROPERTY (_con animo_). + + And is there for no compensation room? + +Mr. JOSEPH ARCH. + + No! none! And now, behold the Brigand's doom! + + [_Points triumphantly to the work at the back, while he waves the + draft of a new Act of Parliament over the prostrate form of the_ + Owner of the Property, _as the Curtain slowly descends_. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: "MUFTI." + +_Materfamilias (flurried)._ "OH, PLEASE, WILL MR. CHARKLE COME TO OUR +HOUSE DIRECTLY--THE SOOT IS FALLING INTO THE NURSERY, AND----" + +_Mrs. Charkle._ "CERTAINLY, M'UM. LEASTWAYS MY 'USBAND _AIN'T IN BLACK_ +HISSELF TO-DAY, M'UM, BUT I'LL SEND SOMEBODY AT ONCE, M'UM!"] + + * * * * * + +MORE ADVICE GRATIS. + +VICTIM.--We should not advise you to prosecute the constable who +"pummeled you severely," and then took you up for being drunk and +disorderly, because you happened to drop your hymn-book on the pavement +on returning from Church last Sunday evening. We cannot, either, +recommend your going to the Police Station to lodge a complaint, unless +you are an expert pugilist or take the precaution to wear sheet-iron +next the skin. Perhaps the poor fellow was trying to introduce the +_massage_ treatment to your attention. + +RIPARIAN OWNER.--Yes, you can, if you think it worthwhile, sue the +owners of the five houseboats which have moored themselves close to your +front-garden, and to whose proximity you fancy the two cases of typhus +and one of cholera in your family are to be attributed. You ask what the +maximum costs would be. Costs are things which have no maximum. Multiply +your yearly income by the number of boats, and you will be pretty near +the amount. + +HISTORICAL STUDENT.--1. THOMAS CROMWELL was called the "Lord Protector" +because he protected the Lord Chancellor (WOLSEY) from the King's +vengeance. 2. No, the expression "short commons" has nothing do with the +Long Parliament. + +POLITICIAN.--1. You are under a misapprehension in supposing that Mr. +CHAMBERLAIN has undertaken to delimit the Afghan frontier. He has been +appointed a Fishery Commissioner, with full power to investigate the +condition of the Margate whelk-trade. 2. North Sea "Smacksmen" are not +so called in consequence of their recent treatment by the Ostend +fish-wives. + +VOTARY OF SCIENCE.--The Antarctic regions were so named to distinguish +them from the Arctic regions. A rather illiterate sea-captain discovered +them, and at once exclaimed, "Why, these _Aint Arctic!_" They have +retained this quaint title ever since.--No, the British Association does +not require its members to have, as you suppose, "a profound knowledge +of Chemistry, Physiology, Dynamics, and all other branches of Modern +Science." Payment of a guinea entrance-fee is all that is needed. + +NERVOUS INVALID.--It is unfortunate that the last Southbourne Park +train, should "blow off steam and whistle continuously for half an hour +under your windows," at 1.30 A.M. Still, this does not quite excuse your +smashing all the furniture and throwing the fire-irons into the street +in one of the paroxysms you speak of. When you have a lucid interval +write to the Company. No, don't "put a bullet through the +engine-driver's head," as you suggest. Try a _mandamus_ first,--also try +some soothing syrup. + +ANXIOUS ENGINEER.--You ask "if there is any danger attending the +experiment of mixing equal parts of nitro-glycerine, gun-cotton, and +sulphuric acid in an iron tank in your back-garden?" We have never tried +it, so cannot say. The best _modus operandi_ would be to invite your +landlord, mother-in-law, and nearest tax-collector to come and see the +fun. Go off yourself to the seaside, and get one of them to do the +mixing. You would be sure to be interested in the result. + + * * * * * + +THE LOST RECORD. + +(_A Chaunt by an ex-Champion._) + +AIR--"_The Lost Chord._" + + RUNNING one day on the "Cinder," + I led all the field with ease; + I felt I was going strongly, + I romped in quite "as you please." + I knew not what I was doing, + I was "fit as a fiddle" then, + And I made a "Record" that morning + I never shall make again. + + It flooded the sporting papers, + I got the pedestrian palm. + They called me Champion of Champions; + The praise in my ears was balm. + But another "Ped."--confound him!-- + "Cut" my record, in our next strife, + By exactly one-tenth of a second. + I should like to have his life! + + I was Champion of Champions no longer, + Gone, gone was my pride, my peace. + Oh, the cheers for my hated supplanter! + I thought they would never cease. + I have struggled, but struggled vainly, + By practice and training fine, + To regain once more that "Record," + Which for a brief month was mine. + It may be the man who licked me + Will be licked by yet better men, + But the "Record" I lost that morning + _I_ never shall win again. + + * * * * * + +AN "ORANGE FREE STATE" THAT SHOULD HAVE ITS LIBERTY CURTAILED.--Peel on +the pavement. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration] + +THE HOUSE "UP" AT LAST. + +ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT. EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M.P. + +_House of Commons, Tuesday, September 13._--The House is "up," or nearly +so, and if not altogether, more shame for it. _We_ are, as will be seen +from thumb-nail sketch annexed. I'm not only up, but have been off for a +clear week. Come back just to hear HARCOURT'S Speech. Liked to go +finally before, but ARNOLD MORLEY wouldn't let me. "Get a pair," said +he, when I again broached subject, "and go as soon as you like." + +All very well to say, "Get a pair," but where do they grow? In moody +thought, and growing despair, met HARTINGTON'S dog. Here was chance! +"ROY" rather nondescript politician. Says he's a Liberal, but barks in +favour of Government, and, though admits they're not always right +(opposed them, for example, on CADOGAN'S Amendment to Land Bill, and +on Proclaiming of National League), yet steadily votes for them. +Is, in short, a Liberal-Unionist. We're asked not to pair with +Liberal-Unionists. But exceptions to every rule; will make one here. +"ROY" delighted. Says he's sick of politics, and would like a roll on +pasture-land. + +Nearly everyone else off, pair or no pair. Irish Members, with exception +of PARNELL, have nowhere else to go, so make up their minds not only to +stop themselves, but to be the cause of stopping in others. PARNELL long +ago gone off shooting. The O'GORMAN MAHON shook his hand all the way +across Palace Yard, and assured him he might go without a sense of +uneasiness. + +"I'll keep mee oi on things when ye'er gone, dear Bhoy," he said, giving +his Chief resounding whack on back that nearly knocked him down. "We +learnt a thing or two when gettin' the Bill o' Roights through, and I've +seen a thrifle since." + +A dreary place the House, yet struggling through fag-ends of work. Not a +cheery Session from any point of view. No new reputations made; some old +ones shaken, some shattered. + + * * * * * + +SOME NOTES AT STARMOUTH. + +[Illustration] + +_Views after Breakfast._--Now to lay down the lines for my Drama.... +Eleven--and the only lines I have laid down, as yet, are "Act I., Scene +I!" I must stimulate my imagination by the sight of salt water. + +_On the Sands._--Dense crowd. Deafening noise. Penny bagpipes, comb and +paper. Italian girls with accordion, trumpet from sailing-boat. "'Ere +y'are for a jolly sail out, Sir!"--which happens to be just the precise +thing I am _not_ here for. Nor (I should have thought) do I look the +kind of person likely to buy that "strong and emusing toy, one penny, +the little Chinese Bandalore"--but these fellows have no eye for +character. Several shoeblacks very anxious to black my boots, which, as +I tell them, would be "painting the lily." Don't think they understand +me. Stop thoughtlessly to look at a cage containing a tree-frog and two +Japanese rats. Proprietor approaches with plate: "This little Jubilee +Menagerie open free to the Public," he says--"we ope the Public will +respond by a similar liberality." Well, well, if I must--but it really +was _not_ worth a penny. + +Join a crowd: a conjuror--good, I am fond of conjuring. Conjuror now +going to introduce his "celebrated and favourite Shell-trick." Crowd +very obligingly make way for me--capital place in front row. Conjuror +takes a large Nautilus shell. I have never seen this trick--it looks a +good one.... It appears this is his way of making a collection--he comes +to me first. He is sure, he says (he is an impudent dog), that I shall +feel hurt if he passes _me_ over. No change. He begs me not to get +flurried--sooner than deprive me of the pleasure of patronising him, +_he_ will give me change--he does. This is the end of the performance. +Singular how depressed I feel by this petty incident. Blazers in great +force on the sands. Teasing half-offended nursemaids, playing penny +"nap" on newspapers, or lying in pits scooped out of sand, with their +heads on the laps of their fair ones, or pursuing the fair ones, and +putting sand down their backs. + +[Illustration: Charing-Cross.] + +Most flourishing institution on the Beach is certainly Phrenology. No +less than three little platforms, each with a Consulting Chair, a table, +on which stands a meek bust, and a canvas awning overhead, and row of +garden-seats (free) in front. Have long wished to gain insight into this +Science. Think there certainly is something in it. As a Blazer near me +remarks, "Why, you'd say Cocoa-nuts looked all alike, till you come to +see there's differences--and it's the same with 'eds." Cockney tone +about this. To find his proper station, I should have to go, I fancy, to +Charing Cross, Cannon Street, or Waterloo. + +[Illustration: Canon's Treat.] + +Find a Lady-Professor on first platform giving a "delineation" of a live +subject--a turnip-headed little boy of three, who sits with his tongue +out, under the impression he is at the Doctor's. "His self-will is +strong," she is announcing in Sibylline accents to his proud parents, +"and I should say you would find him very strong-willed. I should check +it by curbing his will. Conjugality large, and therefore we may say that +he will be fond of his wife and of his home. Self-esteem only moderate. +It will be useless to bring up this little boy to any trade or business +of a mechanical kind, unless he developes an after-taste for it, which I +do not say he may not--far from it. But he has a brain which will fit +him for great success in some artistic profession. Give him colours and +a brush, and you will see he will immediately commence to +paint--likewise draw. Or he has an organ with which he can be a great +Composer, if you care to develope him that way. Or he would write books +or poetry--that would come very easy to him, he would have no difficulty +in doing it at all. I think that is all with this subject." + +[Illustration: Water-loo.] + +Pass on to Professor PODDER. Venerable gentleman with dark grey beard, +and a certain ponderous playfulness. He has got a subject too--a pretty +little impish girl of eight, who is struggling to suppress a fit of the +giggles. "This is a thoughtful little one we 'ave here," he says, +patting her hair in a fatherly way. "She thinks. Turns over things in +her mind. Reflects. Compares. Memory for dates moderate. She will be +fond of her home, fond of her parents. She will be capable of passing in +an examination--if she takes pains. She finds no difficulty in doing +anything that comes easy to her." (_Here the patient giggles._) "There is +one thing I should like to see--a little more Veneration. Where +Veneration should be I find a distinct depression. This young lady has a +keen sense of the ridiculous. Easily detects what is ridiculous." (_Here +the subject breaks into a scream of laughter by way of corroboration._) +"I have done, young lady. Now, we have a nice large audience--I hope +some other subject will oblige us by stepping up. We like to see one +coming up briskly after another, you know. We don't like to be idle." + +His eye seems glancing in my direction. Off to hear Professor SKITTLES. +He is a bony, lantern-jawed young man, in velveteen jacket, with a +puggaree round his hat. As I come up, he is delineating a lady of +portentous plainness, who sits and sniggers with a dreadful bashfulness. +"This young lady has a large and powerful brain," he says--"plenty of +Wit and Humour, Thoughtfulness and Consideration for Others, Caution, +and Memory for Events that impress her strongly. Her Social Brain is +large; she is fond of Society, and likes to see others enjoying +themselves. Thinks more of others' happiness than her own. We should +like to see a little more 'ope." + +This Professor, I find, enjoys the highest reputation; he measures more, +for one thing, and has an Assistant, who enters all the measurements in +a ledger, which naturally inspires confidence. The Lady delineator, I +also hear, does not think it necessary to measure so much, and is of +opinion that Professor SKITTLES "studies too hard." + +[Illustration: Tennis-Sun and Miltin'.] + +New subject; quite a typical 'ARRY, round back, hock-bottle shoulders, +has shambled up, and taken the chair. No forehead nor chin worth +mentioning; but, as he removes his hat (which he puts on the bust), a +tall crest of yellow hair starts up like a trick wig. Professor measures +him solemnly as he sits with a crooked grin. + +"The measurement of this brain is rather below the average," says the +lecturer, forbearingly. "Here we have a brain measuring only eighteen +and three-quarter inches. A very tall and narrow head. You would find +that this gentleman arrives at his ideas without conscious reflection, +or exercise of thought." (_'ARRY looks gratified._) "He takes a strong +and deep interest in religious subjects." (_Derisive "hor-hor!" from +'ARRY._) "Language strong. He will find no difficulty in putting what he +wishes to say into language with considerable fluency, though perhaps +not with much variety. Great Firmness and Benevolence. The Moral Brain +is large, and your moral standard"--("_My_ what?" _interrupts 'ARRY, +with a suspicious cock of his eye_)--"Your moral standard is high." +("Right!" _says 'ARRY, mollified, and séance terminates_.) + +These delineators certainly put things very agreeably. One might get +some useful hints, too. If Professor SKITTLES could tell me whether I am +most poetic, or witty, or dramatic, I should know exactly what to aim at +in my Nautical Drama. I have never been able to decide which I love the +best--TENNYSON, MILTON, or CAMPBELL. And, after what he found to say +about 'ARRY----but it is all so very public, I don't think I _could_ +bring myself to do it--I will go on.... + +[Illustration: Cam-belle.] + +I hardly know exactly how I came here--but here I am on the platform, +sitting in the Professor's chair. He is measuring me with a sliding +scale, the brass end of which feels cold against my forehead. Curious +sensation, as if I was upside down at a Bootmaker's. Sun in my eyes. +Tittering from girls on benches in front. + +A party of Blazers has just come up--I fear in a frivolous spirit. Begin +to wish now I had had this done privately. + + * * * * * + +THE LAND OF THE 'ARRY'UNS.--'Am'stead 'Eath. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration] 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. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI, VOL. +93. SEPTEMBER 17, 1887*** + + +******* This file should be named 33717-8.txt or 33717-8.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/3/7/1/33717 + + + +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. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. 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September 17, 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%;} + 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;} + + .figure, .figcenter, .figright, .figleft + {padding: 0; margin: 0; margin-right: 1em; 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; margin-left: 1em;} + .figleft {float: left; width: auto;} + + .img {margin: 0; padding-right: 0;} + .div {margin: 0; padding: 0;} + + p.author {text-align: right;} + + .regards {text-align: right; + margin-right: 4em;} + + .salute {text-align: left; + margin-left: 2em;} + + .figure img, .figcenter img, .figright img, .figleft img + {border: none;} + + hr.pg { width: 100%; + margin-top: 3em; + margin-bottom: 0em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + height: 4px; + border-width: 4px 0 0 0; /* remove all borders except the top one */ + border-style: solid; + border-color: #000000; + clear: both; } + pre {font-size: 90%; } + </style> +</head> +<body> +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 93. +September 17, 1887, by Various, Edited by F. C. Burnand</h1> +<pre> +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 <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 93. September 17, 1887</p> +<p>Author: Various</p> +<p>Editor: F. C. Burnand</p> +<p>Release Date: September 13, 2010 [eBook #33717]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI, VOL. 93. SEPTEMBER 17, 1887***</p> +<p> </p> +<h3>E-text prepared by Neville Allen, Malcolm Farmer,<br /> + and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (http://www.pgdp.net)</h3> +<p> </p> +<hr class="pg" /> + +<h1>PUNCH,<br /> + +OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.</h1> + +<h2>VOLUME 93.</h2> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<h2>SEPTEMBER 17, 1887.</h2> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> + +<h2>OUR IGNOBLE SELVES.</h2> + +<center>(<i>Lament by a Reader of "Letters to the Papers."</i>)</center> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 30%"> +<a href="images/121a.png"> +<img src="images/121a.png" width="100%" alt="Cartoon" /></a> +</div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oh!</span> bless us and save us! Like men to behave us</p> +<p class="i2">We Britons once held it our glory;</p> +<p class="i0">Now Party bids fair to befool and enslave us.</p> +<p class="i2">We're lost between Liberal and Tory!</p> +<p class="i0">Some quidnunc inditeth a letter to <span class="smcap">Gladstone</span>,</p> +<p class="i2">The style of it, "Stand and deliver!"</p> +<p class="i0">Its speech may be rude, and its tone quite a cad's tone,</p> +<p class="i2">Its logic may make a man shiver.</p> +<p class="i0"><i>Au contraire</i> it <i>may</i> be most lucid and modest,</p> +<p class="i2">In taste and in pertinence equal</p> +<p class="i0">(Though such a conjunction would be of the oddest),</p> +<p class="i2">But what, anyhow, is the sequel?</p> +<p class="i0">Rad papers <i>all</i> cry, "We've once more before us</p> +<p class="i2">An instance of folly inrushing."</p> +<p class="i0">Whilst <i>all</i> the Conservative Journals in chorus</p> +<p class="i2">Declare "it is perfectly crushing!"</p> +<p class="i0">"Little Pedlington's" snubbed by the Liberal Press,</p> +<p class="i2">And urged such fool tricks to abandon.</p> +<p class="i0">Cry Tories, "I guess the Old Man's in a mess,</p> +<p class="i2">He hasn't a leg left to stand on!"</p> +<p class="i0">Oh! save us and bless us! The shirt of old Nessus,</p> +<p class="i2">Was not such a snare to the hero,</p> +<p class="i0">As poisonous faction. Crass fools we confess us,</p> +<p class="i2">With sense and with spirit at zero.</p> +<p class="i0">If thus we comport us like blind sprawling kittens,</p> +<p class="i2">Or pitiful partisan poodles,</p> +<p class="i0">'Twill prove Party makes e'en of freeminded Britons,</p> +<p class="i2">A race of incontinent noodles!</p> +</div></div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>"TO TEAPOT BAY AND BACK."</h2> + +<p><span class="smcap">Londoners</span> who like but are weary of the attractions of +Eastend-on-Mud, and want a change, can scarcely do better than spend +twenty-four hours in that rising watering-place Teapot Bay. I say advisedly +"rising," because the operation has been going on for more than forty years. +In these very pages a description of the "juvenile town," appeared nearly +half a century ago. Then it was said that the place was "so infantine +that many of the houses were not out of their scaffold-poles, whilst +others had not yet cut their windows," and the place has been growing +ever since—but very gradually. The "ground plan of the High Street" of +those days would still be useful as a guide, although it is only fair to +say that several of the fields then occupied by cabbages are now to some +extent covered with empty villas labelled "To Let." In the past the High +Street was intersected by roads described as "a street, half houses, +half potatoes," "a street apparently doing a good stroke of business," +"a street, but no houses," "a street indigent, but houseless," "a street +which appears to have been nipped in the kitchens," "a street thickly +populated with three inhabitants," and last but not least, "a street in +such a flourishing condition that it has started a boarding-house and +seminary." The present condition of Teapot Bay is much the same—the +roads running between two lines of cellars (contributions to houses that +have yet to be built) are numerous and testify to good intentions never +fulfilled. There is the same meaningless tower with a small illuminated +clock at the top of it, and if the pier is not quite so long as it was +thirty or forty years ago, it still seems to be occupying the same site.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 30%"> +<a href="images/121b.png"> +<img src="images/121b.png" width="100%" alt="Cheap and Picturesque Roots" /></a> +<h3>Cheap and Picturesque Roots for Tourists.</h3> +</div> + +<p>The means of getting to Teapot Bay is by railway. Although no doubt +numbered amongst the cheap and picturesque routes for tourists, the +place is apparently considered by the authorities as more or less of a +joke. Margate, Ramsgate, Westgate and Broadstairs, are taken <i>au +sérieux</i>, and have trains which keep their time; but Teapot Bay, +seemingly, is looked upon as a legitimate excuse for laughter. If two +trains are fixed to start at 12, and 12.30, the twelve o'clock train +will leave at 12.30, and the 12.30 at 1. The authorities endeavour to +have a train in hand at the end of the day, and I fancy are generally +successful in carrying out their intentions. But between London and +Teapot Bay there are many slippery carriages, which stop at various +Junctions, and refuse to go any further in the required direction. When +this happens, the weary traveller has to descend, cross a platform, and +try another line. If he is a man of determination, and is not easily +disheartened, nine times out of ten he ultimately reaches Teapot Bay, +where his arrival causes more astonishment than gratification.</p> + +<p>When I got to this "rising watering-place" the other day, I found an +omnibus in waiting, ready to carry me to the town, which is some little +distance from the station. We travelled by circular tour, which included +a trot through many of the fields of my boyhood, now, alas! potatoless, +and covered with weeds! In one of these fields I noticed a canvas booth, +three or four flags, and a group of about twenty spectators, inspecting +a gentleman in a scarlet coat, mounted on rather a large-boned horse.</p> + +<p>"They still have a country-fair here?" I suggested to the person who had +collected my sixpence.</p> + +<p>"That isn't a fair, Sir—them's the Races," was the reply.</p> + +<p>"Not very well attended, I fear?" I observed.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 30%"> +<a href="images/121c.png"> +<img src="images/121c.png" width="100%" alt="A Circular Tour" /></a> +<h3>A Circular Tour.</h3> +</div> + +<p>"Better than they was last year—why the whole town has gone to see them +this time."</p> + +<p>A little later we reached the principal inn of the place, which was +described in a local Handbook as "an old-established hotel, but +comfortable." Rather, to my annoyance (as I was anxious to preserve my +<i>incognito</i>), I was received by the landlord with respectful cordiality. +"Glad you have honoured us, Sir—proud of your presence."</p> + +<p>I made a sign to him not to betray me, and asked for my room.</p> + +<p>"Well, Sir, we must put <i>you</i> into the Rotunda."</p> + +<p>Again by a gesture inviting silence as to my identity, I mounted a +flight of stairs, and found myself in a room that once, I think, must +have been entirely arbour. Much of the arbour still remained, but a +large slice had been partitioned off affording space for a +chimney-piece, two chairs, a washstand and a bed. By opening a window +which reached to the ground, I found myself on a balcony covered in with +creepers, and beneath which was a gas-lamp labelled "Hotel Tap." In +front of me was a field with the foundation (long since completed) for +some houses at the end of it. On my left another field in the same state +of passive preparation, and on my right a side view of the Ocean. It was +growing dark, so after an "old-fashioned but comfortable" dinner, I went +out for a stroll.</p> + +<p>"Pleased you should honour us," said the landlord, as he opened the door +to allow me to pass. Again to my annoyance, as it was vexatious to be +thus identified in this out-of-the-way place as one of the celebrities +of the hour.</p> + +<p>The visitors and other inhabitants of Teapot Bay had returned from the +Races, and were walking on the pier listening to the band. The gentlemen +were in flannels, the ladies decorated with yards of white ribbon. The +band was more select than numerous. Its conductor beat time with his +left hand, while with his right he played the "air" of the tune at the +moment attracting his attention upon an elaborate instrument that looked +like a cross between a clarionet and an old-fashioned brass serpent. +There was not much drumming, because the drummer spent nearly all his +ample leisure on more or less successful efforts to vend programmes. The +band was in a gusty alcove at one end of the pier, a small room covered +with placards of a Wizard who, after making the acquaintance of "The +Crowned Heads of Europe," was to perform there "to-night," was at the +other. Having soon exhausted the pleasure derivable from listening to +the band, I sought out the wizard.</p> + +<p>"Oh, he ain't going to do it again until next Saturday," was the answer +of a little girl who had charge of a turnstile, when I asked for a +ticket. "But you can see him then."</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 30%"> +<a href="images/121d.png"> +<img src="images/121d.png" width="100%" alt="You're up" /></a> +<h3>"You're up!"</h3> +</div> + +<p>I retired. As all the shops (possibly a couple of dozen) were closed, I +returned to my hotel—really a very comfortable one. In the morning I +thought I would have a sea-bath. There were a few machines, which were +manipulated with ropes and windlasses. There was an elderly man in +charge, who informed me that he could not lower one of these vehicles +until his mate returned.</p> + +<p>"Gone to breakfast?" I suggested.</p> + +<p>"Breakfast—no one here has time for breakfast!" was the reply.</p> + +<p>When I left, the landlord again murmured his thanks for the honour I had +done him by patronising his hotel. Still anxious to preserve my +<i>incognito</i>, in bidding him adieu I begged him not to allow my name to +appear in the Visitors' List.</p> + +<p>"You may be sure I won't Sir," said he with a bow as he opened the door, +and a tip-inviting "boots" put my portmanteau on the omnibus starting +for the station,—"<i>as I don't know it!</i>"</p> + +<p>On the whole I prefer Eastend-on-Mud to Teapot Bay!</p> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> + +<h2>A PRETTY CENTENARIAN.</h2> + +<center>(<i>Mr. Bull's Song on Miss Columbia's Hundredth Birthday.</i>)</center> + +<blockquote><p>"The chief authorities of the several States of this Union have +resolved to celebrate, on the 15th, 16th, and 17th days of September +next, at Philadelphia, the first centennial anniversary of the +framing of the Constitution of the United States, with military and +industrial displays, and with other suitable ceremonies."—<i>Letter +of Invitation to Mr. Gladstone from the Constitutional Centennial +Commission.</i></p></blockquote> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 55%"> +<a href="images/122.png"> +<img src="images/122.png" width="100%" alt="A Hundred Years Old" /></a><br /><br /> +<p><i>John Bull.</i> "A Hundred Years Old, my Dear! Who would +have thought it! But then you have such a wonderful constitution!"</p> +</div><br /> + +<center><span class="smcap">Air</span>.—"<i>I'm getting a Big Boy now.</i>"</center> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0"><span class="smcap">You</span> have passed through the troubles of national youth,</p> +<p class="i2">(To have safely survived them's a boon,)</p> +<p class="i0">You have out your eye-teeth, you look pretty, in truth,</p> +<p class="i2">But much the reverse of a "spoon."</p> +<p class="i0">We gaze on you fondly, admiringly, dear;</p> +<p class="i2">Few traces of age on <i>your</i> brow.</p> +<p class="i0">A hundred this year? Then it's perfectly clear</p> +<p class="i2">You are getting a great girl now.</p> +</div></div> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> + +<center><i>Chorus.</i></center> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">You are getting a great girl now,</p> +<p class="i4">And you know it, <span class="smcap">Columbia</span>, I trow.</p> +<p class="i8">Philadelphia's "boom"</p> +<p class="i8">Leaves for doubt little room</p> +<p class="i4">That you're getting a great girl now.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">I feel like Papa, who though elderly's fresh,</p> +<p class="i2">And with younkers can sympathise still;</p> +<p class="i0">You are bone of my bone, you are flesh of my flesh,</p> +<p class="i2">And I bear you the warmest good-will.</p> +<p class="i0"><i>My</i> centennial dates which have rapidly run,</p> +<p class="i2">I have given up counting, somehow;</p> +<p class="i0">Like me, you'll be learning life is not <i>all</i> fun,</p> +<p class="i2">For you're getting a great girl now.</p> +</div></div> + +<center><i>Chorus.</i></center> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">You are getting a great girl now.</p> +<p class="i4">With health and that radiant brow,</p> +<p class="i8">One hardly would say</p> +<p class="i8">You're a hundred to-day,</p> +<p class="i4">Though you're getting a great girl now.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">You've gone in for Parties.—my plague, dear, at home;</p> +<p class="i2">If anyone's sick of 'em <i>I</i> am,—</p> +<p class="i0">Your land is so large you need hardly to roam,</p> +<p class="i2">Yet you're known from St. James's to Siam.</p> +<p class="i0">We greet you as Cousin, our family throng</p> +<p class="i2">Is wide, but you're welcome, I vow.</p> +<p class="i0">Come often, stay long, you can hardly do wrong,</p> +<p class="i2">Though you're getting a great girl now.</p> +</div></div> + +<center><i>Chorus.</i></center> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">You are getting a great girl now,</p> +<p class="i4">The rawness of youth you outgrow.</p> +<p class="i8">I am proud of your looks,</p> +<p class="i8">Like your art, and your books;</p> +<p class="i4">You <i>are</i> getting a great girl now.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">To your big birthday party 'twas kind to invite</p> +<p class="i2">My <span class="smcap">William</span>; I'm sure he'd have come</p> +<p class="i0">And danced at your ball with the greatest delight,</p> +<p class="i2">But for years, and some business at home.</p> +<p class="i0">He's really a marvel, you know, for his age;</p> +<p class="i2">At your great Philadelphia pow-wow</p> +<p class="i0">He'd have reeled you off columns of talk, I'll engage,</p> +<p class="i2">Though he's getting an Old Boy now.</p> +</div></div> + +<center><i>Chorus.</i></center> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">He's getting an Old Boy now,</p> +<p class="i4">Yet but for our big Irish row,</p> +<p class="i8">He'd have come like a shot,</p> +<p class="i8">And orated a lot,</p> +<p class="i4">Though he's getting an Old Boy now.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Your health, my <span class="smcap">Columbia</span>! A hundred? Seems queer!</p> +<p class="i2">What a sweet Centenarian you make!</p> +<p class="i0">I suppose it's your fine "Constitution," my dear;</p> +<p class="i2">Which nothing, I hope, will e'er shake.</p> +<p class="i0">You have proved you have not only swiftness, but stay;</p> +<p class="i2">Well, long may you flourish and grow!</p> +<p class="i0">Many happy—and hearty—returns of the Day!</p> +<p class="i2">You are getting a great girl now!</p> +</div></div> + +<center><i>Chorus.</i></center> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">You are getting a great girl now;</p> +<p class="i4">May you prosper, and keep out of row;</p> +<p class="i8">Shun bunkum and bawl,</p> +<p class="i8">All that's shoddy and small,</p> +<p class="i4">For you're getting a <i>great</i> girl now!</p> +</div></div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>THE FATHER OF THE MAN.</h2> + +<p><span class="smcap">A case</span> of some interest to Self-made Men, the conviction of a boy fined +half-a-crown for playing, with some other boys, the game of "brag," +occasioned Mr. <span class="smcap">Shiel</span>, on the Southwark Bench, to observe that "Gambling +was the first step towards crime. Boys who began with gambling, very +often ended by being thieves." Too often, perhaps, but, it may be hoped, +not always. The boy who begins by playing at pitch-and-toss, surely +doesn't always grow up to be a man who actually commits manslaughter. He +may possibly stop short of larceny, burglary, or housebreaking, and do +nothing worse than getting a useless, but not absolutely criminal +livelihood, by betting on the Derby and the St. Leger, or speculating on +the Stock Exchange.</p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 55%"> +<a href="images/123.png"> +<img src="images/123.png" width="100%" alt="FORM" /></a> +<h3>FORM.</h3> +<p><i>Public School Boy (to General Sir George, G.C.B., G S.I., V.C., &c. &c. +&c.)</i> "<span class="smcap">I say, Grandpapa,—a—would you mind just putting on your Hat <i>a +little straighter?</i> Here comes <i>Codgers</i>—he's awfully particular—and +he's the <i>Captain of our Eleven, you know!</i></span>"</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>WORDS IN SEASON.</h2> + +<p><span class="smcap">News</span> are by no means wanting in the newspapers. A surprising telegram +from Vienna announces that:—</p> + +<blockquote><p>"A large shark has been captured close to the harbour of Fiume. It +is four and a half mètres long, and weighs 1,460 kilogrammes. The +stomach contained a pair of human feet with the boots on."</p></blockquote> + +<p>The shark with two feet, and boots inside of it to boot, beats <span class="smcap">Jerrold's</span> +"San Domingo Billy," in <i>Black Eyed Susan</i>, with a watch in his +maw—whereby hung a yarn. Provincial journals, please copy, and report a +jack that was so big as to have swallowed jack-boots. You may calculate +that they will go down with some of your readers too. Nothing like +leather.</p> + +<p>The gooseberry season is over, but if this were the height of it, the +prodigious fruit of that family would be unmentionable to any scientific +assembly. Nevertheless, Dr. <span class="smcap">C. Falberg</span> read a paper to an audience at +the British Association upon "Saccharine, the New Sweet Product of Coal +Tar," which, in connection with the John Hopkins' University (U.S.) he +discovered in 1879. Coal tar has been brought to a pretty pitch. He +averred this saccharine to be 250 times sweeter than sugar. Must have +used nice means to calculate that quantity of the quality of sweetness. +Said it had become an article of commerce—had a large sale in Germany, +was perfectly harmless, he had himself used it for nine years, and it +produced no injurious effect upon him. Apparently, then, he used to eat +it, and if he didn't might have invited his hearers likewise to eat him. +This "Saccharine" bears a somewhat long name, which, as it is a +commercial article, might perhaps be compendiously replaced with +"Sugarine."</p> + +<p>The sea-serpent, <i>Python marinus—Python Ambulatoris</i>, or <i>Python +Walkerii</i>—seems not just yet to have been satisfactorily sighted either +by sailors or marines. However, he may be expected to turn up again very +soon, this time probably coiled in constrictor fashion, as an oceanic +ophidian, around a Laocoön or leviathan of a species very like a whale.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>The Duke's Motto.</h2> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Duke</span>, Secretary to the Liberal-Unionists, says that they consider +Liberal reunion as desirable, but "with one opinion" they decline to do +anything until publicly authorised to do so by Lord <span class="smcap">Hartington</span> and the +Liberal-Unionist leaders. This <span class="smcap">Duke's</span> motto is evidently "Ditto to Lord +<span class="smcap">Hartington</span>." <span class="smcap">Duke's</span> "Dittos" may in future pair off with <span class="smcap">Gladstone's</span> +"Items."</p> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> + +<h2>A VERY PRETTY TALE BY ANDERSON.</h2> + +<p class="salute"> +<span class="smcap">My Dear Mr. Punch,</span></p> + +<p>In producing <i>The Winter's Tale</i> at the Lyceum, that most charming young +actress, Miss <span class="smcap">Mary Anderson</span>, deserves well, not only of her country (if +she insists upon calling England "abroad," like some of her +compatriots), but also of our country, which, I presume, was furthermore +the country of her ancestors. If the shade of Master <span class="smcap">William Shakspeare</span> +will pardon the liberty, the play is a very good one. It has an +interesting plot, with plenty of scope for good acting, good music, and +last, and not least, good scenery. Why it should not have been revived +before I cannot imagine, unless it be that London theatres have men and +not ladies to manage them. Had it been produced in the <span class="smcap">Irving</span> <i>régime</i>, +Miss <span class="smcap">Ellen Terry</span> could have played—and played well—the parts of +<i>Hermione</i> and <i>Perdita</i>; but I fail to see where the name of the lessee +would have come in. <i>Leontes</i> is not a very prominent personage, and +even had it been coupled with <i>Autolycus</i>, still the demands upon Mr. +<span class="smcap">Irving's</span> talent would have been insufficient, not only to please +himself, but also (which is of equal importance) to satisfy the +audience.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 30%"> +<a href="images/124a.png"> +<img src="images/124a.png" width="100%" alt="A Picture from the Stone." /></a> +<h3>A Picture from the Stone.</h3> +</div> + +<p>However, when Miss <span class="smcap">Anderson</span> takes the reins of stage management in to +her own fair and shapely hands, the necessity of providing for a +tragedian of the first class disappears. The "leading man" of her +company is Mr. <span class="smcap">Forbes-Robertson</span>—a most talented person. He can paint +pictures, and play remarkably well in certain characters. His <i>Captain +Absolute</i> was far from bad, and his <i>Romeo</i> more than good. As <i>Leontes</i> +he has a part rather out of his line; but, all things considered, he +fills it very well. It may be objected that he is rather effeminate, and +that his costume would have been more becoming had he worn what the +ladies (I believe) term "half sleeves;" but for all that, his reading of +the character was entirely conscientious, if not absolutely right. But +naturally the success of Saturday evening was Miss <span class="smcap">Anderson</span>, who was as +matronly dignified as <i>Hermione</i>, as she was deliciously girlish as +<i>Perdita</i>. She "looked" both parts to perfection. It may be my fancy, +but I imagine she has greatly improved since we saw her last in London. +The bass notes of her silvery voice have mellowed, and her attitudes, +always graceful, are seemingly now more spontaneous, and consequently +more natural. Charming as <i>Juliet</i>, she is more charming as <i>Hermione</i>, +and most charming as <i>Perdita</i>. Nothing prettier than her dance in the +"Pastoral Scene" has been seen in a London Theatre for many a long +year.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 30%"> +<a href="images/124b.png"> +<img src="images/124b.png" width="100%" alt="Young and Harpy." /></a> +<h3>Young and Harpy.</h3> +</div> + +<p>And my reference to the "Pastoral Scene," (by Mr. <span class="smcap">Hawes Craven</span>) recalls +the fact to my mind that all the scenery is excellent. The <i>Palace of +Leontes</i> by Mr. <span class="smcap">W. Telbin</span>, is only equalled by Mr. W. <span class="smcap">Telbin's</span> <i>Queen's +Apartment</i>, and a wonderful cloth of a roadside with a view of a flock +of sheep grazing on the brow of a hill (again by Mr. <span class="smcap">Hawes Craven</span>, who +seems to have become Artist in Ordinary to Arcadia), is not more +remarkable than Mr. <span class="smcap">Hann's</span> Court of Justice. In the last stage-picture +it is possible, but not probable, that the hypercritical might suggest +that the accessories are slightly suggestive of a kitchen, on the score +that the altar is something like a silver grill, and the Court Herald +appears, during a portion of the action of the piece, to be cooking +chops. Personally, I think this idea rather far-fetched, although, of +course, there is some resemblance (no doubt purely accidental) between +the helmets of the soldiers and the brass coal-scuttle of a modern +drawing-room. And I will even go further, and admit that, to a careless +observer, some of the warriors may appear to be wearing the garb of +Harlequin; but when it is hinted that <i>Leontes</i>, in his first attitude +on his throne, is not unlike a Guy on the Fifth of November, I feel that +the wish must be father of the thought, and that the resemblance is +purely imaginary.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 50%"> +<a href="images/124c.png"> +<img src="images/124c.png" width="100%" alt="A Scene on its Metal." /></a> +<h3>A Scene on its Metal.</h3> +</div> + +<p>Leaving the scenery to come to the acting, I may say that the play is +generally well cast. Mr. <span class="smcap">Maclean</span> and Mr. <span class="smcap">Charles Collette</span> are both very +amusing, the first as <i>Camillo</i>, and the last as <i>Autolycus</i>, and Mr. +<span class="smcap">George Warde</span> is quietly humorous with the baby. When I say quietly +humorous, I do not mean that he trenches in the least on the ground +occupied by either the Clown of Pantomime or the Clown of <span class="smcap">Shakspeare</span>. He +does not sit upon the infant, or throw it about—no, nor even sing to it +a little comic song. He gets all his effects by merely carrying it +quietly about, and showing it, with an assumption of gravity that is +killing, to Mr. <span class="smcap">Forbes-Robertson</span>. To turn to the less important +characters of the play, Mr. <span class="smcap">Davies</span> as a gaoler suggests that in "those +days" prison officials were sometimes whatever happened to be the +equivalent of the period to the modern "masher." Miss <span class="smcap">Zeffie Tilbury</span>, +Miss <span class="smcap">Helena Dacre</span>, and Miss <span class="smcap">Desmond</span> ("1st Lady with a song" and gigantic +lyre) are all equally good, and even the subordinate female parts have +efficient representatives.</p> + +<p>Returning to the gentlemen (a difficult task when it entails leaving +such pleasant company) Mr. F. H. <span class="smcap">Macklin</span> as <i>Polixenes</i> is sufficiently +robust in his manly bearing to suggest the necessary contrast with +<i>Leontes</i>, and Mr. <span class="smcap">Fuller Mellish</span> is picturesque, painstaking and +conscientious as <i>Florizel</i>.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 25%"> +<a href="images/124d.png"> +<img src="images/124d.png" width="100%" alt="An Infant Phenomenon" /></a> +<h3>An Infant Phenomenon.</h3> +</div><br /><br /> + +<p>I began with Miss <span class="smcap">Anderson</span> and (much to my regret) I must end with her. +She is equally charming as <i>Hermione</i> and <i>Perdita</i>. Her cry of horror +and dead faint in the Hall of Justice on learning of the loss of +<i>Mamillius</i>, is one of many points that profoundly impressed the +audience, and in her comedy scene with <i>Polixenes</i> in Act I, in which +she asks him <i>à propos</i> of <i>Leontes</i>, "Was not my lord the verier wag o' +the two?" her smiling glance at her sombre lord is simply inimitable. I +can quite fancy that <i>Leontes</i> when he saw <i>Hermione</i>, and <i>Florizel +Perdita</i>, must have talked of their condition (allowing for the loss of +their hearts) as I describe myself when I assume the signature of</p> + +<p class="author"><span class="smcap">One who has gone to Pieces.</span></p> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> + +<h2>A PLEA FOR THE BIRDS.</h2> + +<center>(<i>To the Ladies of England.</i>)</center> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 40%"> +<a href="images/125.png"> +<img src="images/125.png" width="100%" alt="Cartoon" /></a> +</div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Lo! the sea-gulls slowly whirling</p> +<p class="i2">Over all the silver sea,</p> +<p class="i0">Where the white-toothed waves are curling,</p> +<p class="i2">And the winds are blowing free.</p> +<p class="i0">There's a sound of wild commotion,</p> +<p class="i2">And the surge is stained with red;</p> +<p class="i0">Blood incarnadines the ocean,</p> +<p class="i2">Sweeping round old Flamborough Head.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">For the butchers come unheeding</p> +<p class="i2">All the torture as they slay,</p> +<p class="i0">Helpless birds left slowly bleeding,</p> +<p class="i2">When the wings are reft away.</p> +<p class="i0">There the parent bird is dying,</p> +<p class="i2">With the crimson on her breast,</p> +<p class="i0">While her little ones are lying</p> +<p class="i2">Left to starve in yonder nest.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">What dooms all these birds to perish,</p> +<p class="i2">What sends forth these men to kill,</p> +<p class="i0">Who can have the hearts that cherish</p> +<p class="i2">Such designs of doing ill?</p> +<p class="i0">Sad the answer: English ladies</p> +<p class="i2">Send those men, to gain each day</p> +<p class="i0">What for matron and for maid is</p> +<p class="i2">All the Fashion, so folks say.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Feathers deck the hat and bonnet.</p> +<p class="i2">Though the plumage seemeth fair,</p> +<p class="i0"><i>Punch</i>, whene'er he looks upon it,</p> +<p class="i2">Sees that slaughter in the air.</p> +<p class="i0">Many a fashion gives employment</p> +<p class="i2">Unto thousands needing bread,</p> +<p class="i0">This, to add to your enjoyment,</p> +<p class="i2">Means the dying and the dead.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Wear the hat, then, <i>sans</i> the feather,</p> +<p class="i2">English women, kind and true;</p> +<p class="i0">Birds enjoy the summer weather</p> +<p class="i2">And the sea as much as you.</p> +<p class="i0">There's the riband, silk, or jewel,</p> +<p class="i2">Fashion's whims are oft absurd;</p> +<p class="i0">This is execrably cruel;</p> +<p class="i2">Leave his feathers to the bird!</p> +</div></div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>ROBERT AT MARLOW.</h2> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Here</span> we are again!" as the Clown says in the Pantermine, at butiful +Great Marlow, looking jest as bootiful as ever, though there is jest a +few tears a falling from the dark clowds coz the sun doesn't shine as it +did when we was in grand old Lundon last week, and turn all the drops of +rain into reel dimons. My son <span class="smcap">William</span> has cum with us, and he says as +how this lovely place makes quite a Poet of him, so he dashed off the +following description of it larst nite when the rain was a coming down +in palefuls, witch we all thinks to be amost as butiful as it's trew:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">"To Marlow have we come, a little city,</p> +<p class="i0">Famous for pretty girls and boating, he</p> +<p class="i0">Who has not seen it, will be much to pity,</p> +<p class="i0">So says King <span class="smcap">Robert</span>, and I quite agree</p> +<p class="i0">Of all the towns on Thames there's none more pretty,</p> +<p class="i0">Pangbourne perhaps, but that you soon may see.</p> +<p class="i0">Our nice clean lodging's near the flowing river,</p> +<p class="i0">A noble stream, much like the Guadalquiver."</p> +</div></div> + +<p>I haven't corrected none of his rayther rum spelling, but writ it down +jest as he wrote it all out of his hone hed. Not having ever herd of the +place that he says the River is like, I natrally arsked him where it +were, and he said in Sow Ameriky. What it is to be not only a Poet but a +geolergist as well! ah, it's all owing to the Bellowsmender's Skool.</p> + +<p>I don't find much difference in the old Place xcep that it's gitting +bigger, witch it's a pity, but how can one be surprized. If peeple finds +out a perfec pairodice they natrally tells their friends of it, and so +more cums ewery year. Among others we've got a real live Hem Pea, but +he's here on the sly, having told the Tory Whip as he's bin obligated to +go to Swizzerland to see his pore sick Mother-in-Law! A nice sort of +green Whip he must ha' bin to be so eesily gammond. His wally told me as +he had shaved off his beard so nobody knowed him, but for fear of +accidence he passes ewery Satterday and Sunday at a farm yard inland. +Wot a lively life for a reel Swell!</p> + +<p>I've ony bin here jest a few days, and I've had another startling +adwenture. I never seed such a plaice as this is for adwentures. I had +taken my favorit stroll to Temple Lock, and had my customary chat with +the werry intellegent Lock Keeper there on things in general, and +Locksmen's trubbles in partickler, and was walking gently home, wen I +herd the most unusual report of Guns close by me, on the hopposite Bank; +and jest as I came up to where they was a shooting, I seed three Gents +raise their sanguinary Rifels and haim bang at my dewoted hed! I hadn't +time to shout tout or to run away, so I had to stand it like a traitor +or a dezerter. Luckely they missed me, and, laying down their murdrous +weppons, went into the ouse. I was so prostrated with estonishment that +I remaned fixt on the spot. Luckely my son <span class="smcap">William</span> came by in a Bote, so +I hollowed to him, and, getting in, he pulled me across the foaming +River. I luckely remembered hearing 2 of the Tems Consewatifs a torking +at the <span class="smcap">Lord Mare's</span> Bankwet about the Buy Lors, and that one on em was a +fine of 40<i>s</i>. for ewerrybody as shot a gun across the River. So, harmed +with this nollidge, I at wunce adrest myself to the estonished Gents +about the enormous sum as they wood have to pay me if as how as I went +and told. I had bin a making the Calkerlashon all the way across, so I +was able to say boldly, eleven shots, at 40<i>s</i>. per shot, is twenty-too +pound! One of the gents turned gashly pail, and another sed as they +woodn't do it not never no more, so I kindly promist not to do wot I +might do, and rode away in our Bote with the feeling of a Judge a +pardoning 3 criminals. They did say as they could not have bin a haiming +at me becoz they fired up in the hair, where the birds was; but how was +I to know that, wen the dedly weppens was pinted bang at me, and how, +too, about the falling bullets? They must have bin quite fust-rate +shots, for wen a hole flock of pidgeons flew into their garden, amost +close to 'em, they all three fired at the lot, and acshally wounded one +of 'em, poor thing.</p> + +<p>When warking by the side of the River this arternoon, I was arsked by a +young, but not werry successful angler, what o'clock it was. I told him, +in course, and he said as he coudn't fish no more, as it was lunch time, +so we warked along together, and he told me all his trubbels. He had bin +at it for five days, and had never cort but one fish, and he was too +little to keep. He was a nice brite young chap, so I simpathised with +him. He said other peeple cort plenty of fish, but they came and looked +at his bait, and then turned round and swum away; so I gave him a bit of +adwice as I had wunce herd of. Don't buy your flys, I ses, but make 'em +yourself. Anythink will do if it has 4 legs, and 2 wings made of gorze. +And when the fishes sees it they will say to one another, "Hullo, <span class="smcap">Bill</span>, +here's a rum-looking fly—I never tasted one like him—so here goes," +and he gobbles up your fly, and so you has him slick. How my young frend +did larf. Ah, says he, that's the frute of indulging your curiossity. +I'll set to work this evening and make one, as I've no dout he did.</p> + +<p>I took a walk this morning in butiful Quarry Woods, but O what a site +met my gaze! It used to be one of the atrakshuns of the place for +anyboddy as could walk. What is it now? All the roads as bin dug up, and +left so, and at the entrance to the lovely paths there are orrid bords +put up, saying, "No path—trespassers persecuted." But it isn't true. +They are Paths, and they leads everywhere, and I wasn't persecuted. All +the finest trees are smeared over with dirty bills, saying, "No person +allowed to camp, land, or picknick," and sumbody had added, "Or cough, +or sneeze, without permission!" As a poor feller said to me, who was +hobbling along on the horful road, and who knew the late propryeter, +"Ah, a kind, Cristian Landlord ought to live as long as he posserbly +can, for he never can tell what's to foller."</p> + +<p>There's a place there where the Wolunteers practises firing, and I'm +afraid they must be werry careless, for they writes up, "No one must +damage the property of the Corpse," which is werry kind of 'em, so far.</p> + +<p class="author"><span class="smcap">Robert.</span></p> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 80%"> +<a href="images/126.png"> +<img src="images/126.png" width="100%" alt="A VIKING ON MODERN FASHION" /></a> +<h3>A VIKING ON MODERN FASHION.</h3> +<p>"<span class="smcap">What does t'Lass want wi' yon <i>Boostle</i> for? It aren't big enough to +<i>Smoggle</i> things, and she can't <i>Steer</i> herself wi' it!</span>"</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>THE WAIL OF THE MALE;</h2> + +<center><i>Being a British Workman's View of the Cheap Female Labour Question, +respectfully submitted to the Trades Union Congress.</i><br /><br /> + +<i>Bill Smith to his Shopmate, Ben Jones, loquitur</i>:—</center> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0"><span class="smcap">Eh?</span> Give 'em the Suffrage—the Women? Why not?</p> +<p class="i0">What else, that's worth having, lads, <i>haven't</i> they got?</p> +<p class="i0">If it's levelling up, let 'em have it all round,</p> +<p class="i0">And <i>we</i> shan't be the first to complain, I'll be bound.</p> +<p class="i0">They've cut down our wages, and copied our coats,</p> +<p class="i0">And I really don't see why they shouldn't have Votes.</p> +<p class="i0">Wish <i>I</i> was a woman, old fellow, that's flat;</p> +<p class="i0">I should then have a chance, and know what to be at.</p> +<p class="i0">I have just got the "bullet," Mate—sacked without notice,</p> +<p class="i0">I wonder what pull <i>my</i> possessin' the Vote is?</p> +<p class="i0"><i>She</i> hasn't got ne'er a one—<i>she's</i> got my job,</p> +<p class="i0">I lose a fair crib, and the boss saves ten bob!</p> +<p class="i0">I've been at it five years, kept a family on it,</p> +<p class="i0">And she—well, the first thing she buys is a bonnet!</p> +<p class="i0">They're cutting us out, Mate—the Women are—straight,</p> +<p class="i0">And I s'pose it's no use for to kick agen Fate,</p> +<p class="i0">But it seems blooming hard on the wife and the kids,</p> +<p class="i0"><i>She</i>'s a woman, of course, though she can't earn the "quids,"</p> +<p class="i0">But then, being married, she's out of the hunt</p> +<p class="i0">For earning or votes. Look here, <span class="smcap">Bill</span>! If they shunt</p> +<p class="i0">You and me, and our like, as they're doing all round,</p> +<p class="i0">Because Women are cheap, and there's heaps to be found,</p> +<p class="i0">Won't it come to this, sooner or later, my boy,</p> +<p class="i0">That the most of us chaps will be out of employ,</p> +<p class="i0">Whilst the Women will do all the work there's to do,</p> +<p class="i0">And keep us, and the kids, <i>on about half our "screw"</i>?</p> +<p class="i0">Who's a-going to gain by that there but the boss?</p> +<p class="i0">And for everyone else it is bound to be loss.</p> +<p class="i0">A nice pooty look-out! Oh, I know what they say;—</p> +<p class="i0">That the women work better than us for less pay,</p> +<p class="i0">And are much less the slaves of the pint and the pot;</p> +<p class="i0">What's that got to do with it? All tommy rot!</p> +<p class="i0">We have all got to live, and if women-folk choose</p> +<p class="i0">To collar our cribs or to cut down our screws,</p> +<p class="i0"><i>They</i> will have to be bread-winners, leaving us chaps</p> +<p class="i0">To darn stockings at home with the kids on our laps.</p> +<p class="i0">Well, I hope as they'll like it. I tell you what, neighbour,</p> +<p class="i0">The world's being ruined by petticoat labour.</p> +<p class="i0">Besides, Mate, in spite of this Woman's Rights fuss,</p> +<p class="i0">Work don't make 'em better <i>as</i> women, but wus.</p> +<p class="i0">It mucks 'em for marriage, and spiles 'em for home,</p> +<p class="i0">'Cos their notion of life is to racket and roam.</p> +<p class="i0">Just look at that work-girl there, her with the fringe!</p> +<p class="i0">She's a nice pooty specimen! Makes a chap cringe</p> +<p class="i0">To think of that flashy young chit as a wife,</p> +<p class="i0">That's what cheap woman labour will do for our life.</p> +<p class="i0">Oh, give 'em the Vote, and the breeks, while you're at it,</p> +<p class="i0">Make 'em soldiers, and Bobbies, and bosses. But, drat it,</p> +<p class="i0">If this blessed new-fangled game's to prewail,</p> +<p class="i0">I pities the beggar who's born a poor Male!</p> +</div></div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>BACKING BACO.</h2> + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> movements of Prince <span class="smcap">Ferdinand</span>, as recently reported, appear to be +shrouded in some mystery. It was announced that his Mamma was about to +join him, and that a suite of apartments was being already prepared for +her reception at the Palace. No sooner, however, was this encouraging +piece of news published, than it was followed by a sinister rumour that +the Prince himself was about to hurry off from Sofia to Baco, one of his +country-seats on the frontiers of Hungary. As there is no mention of his +being accompanied by his <i>suite</i>, it is doubtful if, in going to Baco, +the Prince intended to take "returns." Naturally the Sobranje would like +to be assured that, in going to Baco, he was really only going there and +back, and did not mean, as the name of the place might suggest, to back +out of the situation altogether. But perhaps there may not be, after +all, any good foundation for the story of the proposed journey, in which +event all this disturbing talk of a visit to Baco will probably end, as +it naturally should, in smoke.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear at the Price.</span>—The farmers of Derbyshire have been meeting together +and trying to fix "the price of milk during the ensuing winter." Well, +the price that we in London pay for milk seems only too often to +be—scarlet fever. <i>That</i> price requires regulating.</p> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 50%"> +<a href="images/127.png"> +<img src="images/127.png" width="100%" alt="THE "FINAL TABLEAU" /></a> +<h3>THE "FINAL TABLEAU."</h3> +<p>("A CONSUMMATION DEVOUTLY TO BE WISHED."—<span class="smcap">Shakspeare.</span>)</p> +</div> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 50%"> +<a href="images/129.png"> +<img src="images/129.png" width="100%" alt="PROBLEM. TO FIND THE LAW COURTS" /></a> +<h3>PROBLEM. TO FIND THE LAW COURTS.</h3> +<p>(<i>Sketched on the spot, Arundel Street, Victoria Embankment.</i>)</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>HOUSE AND HOME.</h2> + +<p class="salute"><span class="smcap">My Dear Moneypenny,</span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Pray</span> excuse one more refusal of your kind and seasonable invitation, so +often repeated, to come and stay with you at the "Sycamores." Believe +me, there is nobody in the world than yourself I had rather live with if +obliged to choose somebody. But to pass more than a few hours at a +stretch in anyone's house besides my own, is more than I can abide, +unless now and then for a night or so at an hotel, where I am not +expected to notice anybody, and nobody minds me except the waiters in +attendance, whom I am not ashamed of giving trouble. Besides, my dear +fellow, you have no idea of what my making myself at home in your +quarters as I do in my own would mean. Am in the first place, a very +late riser. If my mind is occupied with any problem, usually lie in bed +and think it out, very often until noon, or, even later.</p> + +<p>When I have done breakfast (invariably taken in my own room), I always +smoke a pipe, and then set-to at reading or writing for a longer or +shorter time, and go on smoking at intervals in the meanwhile. Sometimes +sit and meditate till I lapse into a brown study, and am then liable to +dream day-dreams, and fall into fits of unconscious cerebration, in +which I frequently start up and spout <span class="smcap">Shakspeare</span>, or sing songs, or hum +passages in operas, oratorios, symphonies, and overtures, a trick which, +as my voice is very harsh and discordant, would of course be most +irritating and offensive to anybody who could hear me, as would be +generally the case anywhere out of my own den. Could never bear to be +punctual to meal times, must always dine at what time it suits me; am +utterly incapable of observing regular hours.</p> + +<p>So I might go on. But I trust I have now said enough to show you what a +bore I should be if I were to repay your generous importunity to become +your guest and do whatever I pleased so ill as to comply with it. +Enough. I am afraid I have already bored you with much too long a +letter. Let me only add that almost all social amusements, particularly +cards and dancing, and every sort of small talk, common-place +conversation, chaff, or gossip, or discussion of any subject, except +philosophy, science, politics and theology, on which I am prone to +argument, whilst my opponents generally lose their temper—are all so +many bores of the very first magnitude to your sincerely candid and +scrupulously outspoken friend,</p> + +<p class="regards"><i>Tub Snuggery.</i></p> + +<p class="author"><span class="smcap">Antony Cavebear.</span></p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>THE BRIGAND'S DOOM.</h2> + +<center><i>Brief libretto for a Trades-Unionist Grand Opera written up to date.</i></center> + +<p><i>The Scene represents a Country Mansion surrounded by its grounds. +Members of the New Labour Electoral Association discovered hanging about +in threatening attitudes. As the Curtain rises they sing the following +Chorus</i>:—</p> + +<center><span class="smcap">Chorus.</span></center> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4"><span class="smcap">See</span> us here, in jubilation,</p> +<p class="i4">A brand-new Association.</p> +<p class="i4">Still, the truth to tell, although</p> +<p class="i4">What we want we don't quite know.</p> +<p class="i4">We are bound the world to wake,</p> +<p class="i4">If sufficient noise we make.</p> +<p class="i4">Hail our programme then with bliss,</p> +<p class="i4">Which is, briefly stated, this:</p> +<p class="i0">No longer we'll trust representative nous,</p> +<p class="i2">But force for ourselves Parliamentary gates,</p> +<p class="i0">As Members we'll take our own seats in the House,</p> +<p class="i2">And have our expenses paid out of the rates.</p> +</div></div> + +<center><span class="smcap">A Local Ratepayer</span> (<i>andante</i>).</center> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Nay, nay! To take your seats, you're free,</p> +<p class="i0">But not, oh! not, to burthen me!</p> +<p class="i0">Enough am I already charged,</p> +<p class="i0">And would not see the sum enlarged,</p> +<p class="i0">Your pay,—that is your own affair;</p> +<p class="i0">I care not whence it emanates:</p> +<p class="i0">I only most distinctly swear,</p> +<p class="i0">You shall not get it from the rates.</p> +</div></div> + +<center><span class="smcap">Chorus</span> (<i>advancing on him threateningly</i>).</center> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Be still, and know that the whole nation,</p> +<p class="i4">Bows down to the Association!</p> +<p class="i10">[<i>The Local Ratepayer cowers before them.</i></p> +<p class="i4">And yet this question of the land</p> +<p class="i4">We own we don't quite understand.</p> +<p class="i4">Is there no specialist who'll try</p> +<p class="i4">To make it clear?</p> +</div></div> + +<center><i>Enter</i> Mr. <span class="smcap">Joseph Arch</span>. <i>He bounds into their midst.</i><br /><br /> +<span class="smcap">Mr. Joseph Arch.</span></center> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i10">Why here am I!</p> +<p class="i2">You want your intellect to march?</p> +<p class="i10">[<i>They express assent.</i></p> +<p class="i2">Then listen all to <span class="smcap">Joseph Arch</span>.</p> +<p class="i10">[<i>They group themselves in attentive</i></p> +<p class="i10"> <i>positions gracefully about him.</i></p> +</div></div> + +<center><span class="smcap">Ballad.</span></center> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">A man may own jewels and gold,</p> +<p class="i4">A piano, horse, railway shares,</p> +<p class="i2">A cellar of wine, new or old,</p> +<p class="i4">A house, and the clothes that he wears.</p> +<p class="i2">Everything he may sell, or may buy,</p> +<p class="i4">That is purchased by wealth or by toil;</p> +<p class="i2">But he mustn't own—no matter why—</p> +<p class="i4">A single square yard of the soil.</p> +<p class="i0">He this who from <span class="smcap">Hodge</span>, its true owner, perverts,</p> +<p class="i0">Is a brigand, and merits a brigand's deserts!</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">This park that around you you see,</p> +<p class="i4">These gardens you so much admire,</p> +<p class="i2">Each hedgerow, each copse, every tree,</p> +<p class="i4">Is the owner's bequeathed from his sire.</p> +<p class="i2">He may have remitted his rents!</p> +<p class="i4">What of that till the Nation cries "Quits!"</p> +<p class="i2">His land, with the march of events,</p> +<p class="i4">Being purloined and cut up into bits?</p> +<p class="i0">For until to its true owner, <span class="smcap">Hodge</span>, it reverts,—</p> +<p class="i0">He's a brigand, and merits a brigand's deserts!</p> +</div></div> + +<center>[<i>At the conclusion of the ballad</i> Mr. <span class="smcap">Joseph Arch</span> <i>gives a signal and +the</i> <span class="smcap">Owner of the Property</span> <i>is led on in the custody of Trade-Union +Myrmidons</i>.</center><br /><br /> + +<center><span class="smcap">Chorus.</span></center> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">Rob him! fleece him! gag him! seize him!</p> +<p class="i4">Drive him from his country place.</p> +<p class="i2">Of his right of tenure ease him;</p> +<p class="i4">Call him "Brigand" to his face!</p> +</div></div> + +<center><span class="smcap">Owner of the Property</span> (<i>recitative</i>).</center> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Oh, outrage horrible</p> +<p class="i0">And entirely unsatisfactory,</p> +<p class="i0">Thus to fasten with salutations</p> +<p class="i0">Eminently unpalatable</p> +<p class="i0">On the defenceless monied one of the County!</p> +<p class="i0">Know ye not that my venerated sire,</p> +<p class="i0">A Soap-boiler successful in his line of business</p> +<p class="i0">Beyond his wildest visions,</p> +<p class="i0">Purchased for eighty thousand pounds sterling,</p> +<p class="i0">These acres, as an investment</p> +<p class="i0">Speculative and commercial.</p> +<p class="i0">Say, then, is it reasonable that I,</p> +<p class="i0">His hopeful heir and offspring,</p> +<p class="i0">Should be defrauded of what,</p> +<p class="i0">At present prices agricultural,</p> +<p class="i0">Is but a return dim and disappointing</p> +<p class="i0">On his original outlay.</p> +<p class="i0">Why call me "Brigand"? Tell me why?</p> +</div></div> + +<center><span class="smcap">Mr. Joseph Arch</span> (<i>con fuoco</i>).</center> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">Your father had no right to buy,</p> +<p class="i0">And, as the land to <span class="smcap">Hodge</span> is due,</p> +<p class="i0">We take it thus by force from you!</p> +</div></div> + +<blockquote><i>A Crowd of Radical Land Reformers rush in, and seizing on the property, +hew down the timber, cut away the brushwood, and parcel it out into +small allotments.</i></blockquote> + +<center><span class="smcap">Owner of the Property</span> (<i>con animo</i>).<br /><br /> +And is there for no compensation room?</center><br /> + +<center>Mr. <span class="smcap">Joseph Arch</span>.<br /><br /> +No! none! And now, behold the Brigand's doom!</center><br /> + +<center>[<i>Points triumphantly to the work at the back, while he waves the draft +of a new Act of Parliament over the prostrate form of the</i> Owner of the +Property, <i>as the Curtain slowly descends</i>.</center> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 40%"> +<a href="images/130.png"> +<img src="images/130.png" width="100%" alt="MUFTI" /></a> +<h3>"MUFTI."</h3> +<p><i>Materfamilias (flurried).</i> "<span class="smcap">Oh, please, will Mr. Charkle come to our +House directly—the Soot is falling into the Nursery, and——</span>"</p> +<p><i>Mrs. Charkle.</i> "<span class="smcap">Certainly, M'um. Leastways my 'Usband <i>ain't in Black</i> +hisself to-day, M'um, But I'll send Somebody at once, M'um!</span>"</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>MORE ADVICE GRATIS.</h2> + +<p><span class="smcap">Victim.</span>—We should not advise you to prosecute the constable who +"pummeled you severely," and then took you up for being drunk and +disorderly, because you happened to drop your hymn-book on the pavement +on returning from Church last Sunday evening. We cannot, either, +recommend your going to the Police Station to lodge a complaint, unless +you are an expert pugilist or take the precaution to wear sheet-iron +next the skin. Perhaps the poor fellow was trying to introduce the +<i>massage</i> treatment to your attention.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Riparian Owner.</span>—Yes, you can, if you think it worthwhile, sue the +owners of the five houseboats which have moored themselves close to your +front-garden, and to whose proximity you fancy the two cases of typhus +and one of cholera in your family are to be attributed. You ask what the +maximum costs would be. Costs are things which have no maximum. Multiply +your yearly income by the number of boats, and you will be pretty near +the amount.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Historical Student.</span>—1. <span class="smcap">Thomas Cromwell</span> was called the "Lord Protector" +because he protected the Lord Chancellor (<span class="smcap">Wolsey</span>) from the King's +vengeance. 2. No, the expression "short commons" has nothing do with the +Long Parliament.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Politician.</span>—1. You are under a misapprehension in supposing that Mr. +<span class="smcap">Chamberlain</span> has undertaken to delimit the Afghan frontier. He has been +appointed a Fishery Commissioner, with full power to investigate the +condition of the Margate whelk-trade. 2. North Sea "Smacksmen" are not +so called in consequence of their recent treatment by the Ostend +fish-wives.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Votary of Science.</span>—The Antarctic regions were so named to distinguish +them from the Arctic regions. A rather illiterate sea-captain discovered +them, and at once exclaimed, "Why, these <i>Aint Arctic!</i>" They have +retained this quaint title ever since.—No, the British Association does +not require its members to have, as you suppose, "a profound knowledge +of Chemistry, Physiology, Dynamics, and all other branches of Modern +Science." Payment of a guinea entrance-fee is all that is needed.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Nervous Invalid.</span>—It is unfortunate that the last Southbourne Park +train, should "blow off steam and whistle continuously for half an hour +under your windows," at 1.30 <span class="smcap">A.M.</span> Still, this does not quite excuse your +smashing all the furniture and throwing the fire-irons into the street +in one of the paroxysms you speak of. When you have a lucid interval +write to the Company. No, don't "put a bullet through the +engine-driver's head," as you suggest. Try a <i>mandamus</i> first,—also try +some soothing syrup.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Anxious Engineer.</span>—You ask "if there is any danger attending the +experiment of mixing equal parts of nitro-glycerine, gun-cotton, and +sulphuric acid in an iron tank in your back-garden?" We have never tried +it, so cannot say. The best <i>modus operandi</i> would be to invite your +landlord, mother-in-law, and nearest tax-collector to come and see the +fun. Go off yourself to the seaside, and get one of them to do the +mixing. You would be sure to be interested in the result.</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>THE LOST RECORD.</h2> + +<center>(<i>A Chaunt by an ex-Champion.</i>)<br /><br /> + +<span class="smcap">Air</span>—"<i>The Lost Chord.</i>"</center> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0"><span class="smcap">Running</span> one day on the "Cinder,"</p> +<p class="i2">I led all the field with ease;</p> +<p class="i0">I felt I was going strongly,</p> +<p class="i2">I romped in quite "as you please."</p> +<p class="i0">I knew not what I was doing,</p> +<p class="i2">I was "fit as a fiddle" then,</p> +<p class="i2">I never shall make again.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">It flooded the sporting papers,</p> +<p class="i2">I got the pedestrian palm.</p> +<p class="i0">They called me Champion of Champions;</p> +<p class="i2">The praise in my ears was balm.</p> +<p class="i0">But another "Ped."—confound him!—</p> +<p class="i2">"Cut" my record, in our next strife,</p> +<p class="i0">By exactly one-tenth of a second.</p> +<p class="i2">I should like to have his life!</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i0">I was Champion of Champions no longer,</p> +<p class="i2">Gone, gone was my pride, my peace.</p> +<p class="i0">Oh, the cheers for my hated supplanter!</p> +<p class="i2">I thought they would never cease.</p> +<p class="i0">I have struggled, but struggled vainly,</p> +<p class="i2">By practice and training fine,</p> +<p class="i0">To regain once more that "Record,"</p> +<p class="i2">Which for a brief month was mine.</p> +<p class="i0">It may be the man who licked me</p> +<p class="i2">Will be licked by yet better men,</p> +<p class="i0">But the "Record" I lost that morning</p> +<p class="i2"><i>I</i> never shall win again.</p> +</div></div> + +<hr /><br /> + +<center><span class="smcap">An "Orange Free State" that should have its Liberty Curtailed.</span>—Peel on +the pavement.</center><br /> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> +<br /> + +<h2>ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.</h2> + +<h3>EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M.P.</h3> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 100%"> +<a href="images/131a.png"> +<img src="images/131a.png" width="100%" alt="top of illustration" /></a> +</div> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 50%"> +<a href="images/131b.png"> +<img src="images/131b.png" width="100%" alt="Bottom half of illustration" /></a> +</div> + +<p><i>House of Commons, Tuesday, September 13.</i>—The House is "up," or nearly +so, and if not altogether, more shame for it. <i>We</i> are, as will be seen +from thumb-nail sketch annexed. I'm not only up, but have been off for a +clear week. Come back just to hear <span class="smcap">Harcourt's</span> Speech. Liked to go +finally before, but <span class="smcap">Arnold Morley</span> wouldn't let me. "Get a pair," said +he, when I again broached subject, "and go as soon as you like."</p> + +<p>All very well to say, "Get a pair," but where do they grow? In moody +thought, and growing despair, met <span class="smcap">Hartington's</span> dog. Here was chance! +"<span class="smcap">Roy</span>" rather nondescript politician. Says he's a Liberal, but barks in +favour of Government, and, though admits they're not always right +(opposed them, for example, on CADOGAN'S Amendment to Land Bill, and on +Proclaiming of National League), yet steadily votes for them. Is, in +short, a Liberal-Unionist. We're asked not to pair with +Liberal-Unionists. But exceptions to every rule; will make one here. +"<span class="smcap">Roy</span>" delighted. Says he's sick of politics, and would like a roll on +pasture-land.</p> + +<p>Nearly everyone else off, pair or no pair. Irish Members, with exception +of <span class="smcap">Parnell</span>, have nowhere else to go, so make up their minds not only to +stop themselves, but to be the cause of stopping in others. <span class="smcap">Parnell</span> long +ago gone off shooting. The <span class="smcap">O'Gorman Mahon</span> shook his hand all the way +across Palace Yard, and assured him he might go without a sense of +uneasiness.</p> + +<p>"I'll keep mee oi on things when ye'er gone, dear Bhoy," he said, giving +his Chief resounding whack on back that nearly knocked him down. "We +learnt a thing or two when gettin' the Bill o' Roights through, and I've +seen a thrifle since."</p> + +<p>A dreary place the House, yet struggling through fag-ends of work. Not a +cheery Session from any point of view. No new reputations made; some old +ones shaken, some shattered.</p> + +<hr /> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> + +<h2>SOME NOTES AT STARMOUTH.</h2> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 30%"> +<a href="images/132a.png"> +<img src="images/132a.png" width="100%" alt="cartoon" /></a> +</div> + +<p><i>Views after Breakfast.</i>—Now to lay down the lines for my Drama.... +Eleven—and the only lines I have laid down, as yet, are "Act I., Scene +I!" I must stimulate my imagination by the sight of salt water.</p> + +<p><i>On the Sands.</i>—Dense crowd. Deafening noise. Penny bagpipes, comb and +paper. Italian girls with accordion, trumpet from sailing-boat. '"Ere +y'are for a jolly sail out, Sir!"—which happens to be just the precise +thing I am <i>not</i> here for. Nor (I should have thought) do I look the +kind of person likely to buy that "strong and emusing toy, one penny, +the little Chinese Bandalore"—but these fellows have no eye for +character. Several shoeblacks very anxious to black my boots, which, as +I tell them, would be "painting the lily." Don't think they understand +me. Stop thoughtlessly to look at a cage containing a tree-frog and two +Japanese rats. Proprietor approaches with plate: "This little Jubilee +Menagerie open free to the Public," he says—"we ope the Public will +respond by a similar liberality." Well, well, if I must—but it really +was <i>not</i> worth a penny.</p> + +<p>Join a crowd: a conjuror—good, I am fond of conjuring. Conjuror now +going to introduce his "celebrated and favourite Shell-trick." Crowd +very obligingly make way for me—capital place in front row. Conjuror +takes a large Nautilus shell. I have never seen this trick—it looks a +good one.... It appears this is his way of making a collection—he comes +to me first. He is sure, he says (he is an impudent dog), that I shall +feel hurt if he passes <i>me</i> over. No change. He begs me not to get +flurried—sooner than deprive me of the pleasure of patronising him, +<i>he</i> will give me change—he does. This is the end of the performance. +Singular how depressed I feel by this petty incident. Blazers in great +force on the sands. Teasing half-offended nursemaids, playing penny +"nap" on newspapers, or lying in pits scooped out of sand, with their +heads on the laps of their fair ones, or pursuing the fair ones, and +putting sand down their backs.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 30%"> +<a href="images/132b.png"> +<img src="images/132b.png" width="100%" alt="Charing-Cross" /></a> +<h3>Charing-Cross.</h3> +</div> + +<p>Most flourishing institution on the Beach is certainly Phrenology. No +less than three little platforms, each with a Consulting Chair, a table, +on which stands a meek bust, and a canvas awning overhead, and row of +garden-seats (free) in front. Have long wished to gain insight into this +Science. Think there certainly is something in it. As a Blazer near me +remarks, "Why, you'd say Cocoa-nuts looked all alike, till you come to +see there's differences—and it's the same with 'eds." Cockney tone +about this. To find his proper station, I should have to go, I fancy, to +Charing Cross, Cannon Street, or Waterloo.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 30%"> +<a href="images/132c.png"> +<img src="images/132c.png" width="100%" alt="Canon's Treat" /></a> +<h3>Canon's Treat.</h3> +</div> + +<p>Find a Lady-Professor on first platform giving a "delineation" of a live +subject—a turnip-headed little boy of three, who sits with his tongue +out, under the impression he is at the Doctor's. "His self-will is +strong," she is announcing in Sibylline accents to his proud parents, +"and I should say you would find him very strong-willed. I should check +it by curbing his will. Conjugality large, and therefore we may say that +he will be fond of his wife and of his home. Self-esteem only moderate. +It will be useless to bring up this little boy to any trade or business +of a mechanical kind, unless he developes an after-taste for it, which I +do not say he may not—far from it. But he has a brain which will fit +him for great success in some artistic profession. Give him colours and +a brush, and you will see he will immediately commence to +paint—likewise draw. Or he has an organ with which he can be a great +Composer, if you care to develope him that way. Or he would write books +or poetry—that would come very easy to him, he would have no difficulty +in doing it at all. I think that is all with this subject."</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 30%"> +<a href="images/132d.png"> +<img src="images/132d.png" width="100%" alt="Water-loo" /></a> +<h3>Water-loo.</h3> +</div> + +<p>Pass on to Professor <span class="smcap">Podder</span>. Venerable gentleman with dark grey beard, +and a certain ponderous playfulness. He has got a subject too—a pretty +little impish girl of eight, who is struggling to suppress a fit of the +giggles. "This is a thoughtful little one we 'ave here," he says, +patting her hair in a fatherly way. "She thinks. Turns over things in +her mind. Reflects. Compares. Memory for dates moderate. She will be +fond of her home, fond of her parents. She will be capable of passing in +an examination—if she takes pains. She finds no difficulty in doing +anything that comes easy to her." (<i>Here the patient giggles.</i>) "There is +one thing I should like to see—a little more Veneration. Where +Veneration should be I find a distinct depression. This young lady has a +keen sense of the ridiculous. Easily detects what is ridiculous." (<i>Here +the subject breaks into a scream of laughter by way of corroboration.</i>) +"I have done, young lady. Now, we have a nice large audience—I hope +some other subject will oblige us by stepping up. We like to see one +coming up briskly after another, you know. We don't like to be idle."</p> + +<p>His eye seems glancing in my direction. Off to hear Professor <span class="smcap">Skittles</span>. +He is a bony, lantern-jawed young man, in velveteen jacket, with a +puggaree round his hat. As I come up, he is delineating a lady of +portentous plainness, who sits and sniggers with a dreadful bashfulness. +"This young lady has a large and powerful brain," he says—"plenty of +Wit and Humour, Thoughtfulness and Consideration for Others, Caution, +and Memory for Events that impress her strongly. Her Social Brain is +large; she is fond of Society, and likes to see others enjoying +themselves. Thinks more of others' happiness than her own. We should +like to see a little more 'ope."</p> + +<p>This Professor, I find, enjoys the highest reputation; he measures more, +for one thing, and has an Assistant, who enters all the measurements in +a ledger, which naturally inspires confidence. The Lady delineator, I +also hear, does not think it necessary to measure so much, and is of +opinion that Professor <span class="smcap">Skittles</span> "studies too hard."</p> + +<p>New subject; quite a typical <span class="smcap">'Arry</span>, round back, hock-bottle shoulders, +has shambled up, and taken the chair. No forehead nor chin worth +mentioning; but, as he removes his hat (which he puts on the bust), a +tall crest of yellow hair starts up like a trick wig. Professor measures +him solemnly as he sits with a crooked grin.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 30%"> +<a href="images/132e.png"> +<img src="images/132e.png" width="100%" alt="Tennis-Sun and Miltin'" /></a> +<h3>Tennis-Sun and Miltin'.</h3> +</div> + +<p>"The measurement of this brain is rather below the average," says the +lecturer, forbearingly. "Here we have a brain measuring only eighteen +and three-quarter inches. A very tall and narrow head. You would find +that this gentleman arrives at his ideas without conscious reflection, +or exercise of thought." (<i><span class="smcap">'Arry</span> looks gratified.</i>) "He takes a strong +and deep interest in religious subjects." (<i>Derisive "hor-hor!" from +<span class="smcap">'Arry.</span></i>) "Language strong. He will find no difficulty in putting what he +wishes to say into language with considerable fluency, though perhaps +not with much variety. Great Firmness and Benevolence. The Moral Brain +is large, and your moral standard"—("<i>My</i> what?" <i>interrupts <span class="smcap">'Arry</span>, +with a suspicious cock of his eye</i>)—"Your moral standard is high." +("Right!" <i>says <span class="smcap">'Arry</span>, mollified, and séance terminates</i>.)</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 30%"> +<a href="images/132f.png"> +<img src="images/132f.png" width="100%" alt="Cam-belle." /></a> +<h3>Cam-belle.</h3> +</div> + +<p>These delineators certainly put things very agreeably. One might get +some useful hints, too. If Professor <span class="smcap">Skittles</span> could tell me whether I am +most poetic, or witty, or dramatic, I should know exactly what to aim at +in my Nautical Drama. I have never been able to decide which I love the +best—<span class="smcap">Tennyson</span>, <span class="smcap">Milton</span>, or <span class="smcap">Campbell</span>. And, after what he found to say +about <span class="smcap">'Arry</span>——but it is all so very public, I don't think I <i>could</i> +bring myself to do it—I will go on....</p> + +<p>I hardly know exactly how I came here—but here I am on the platform, +sitting in the Professor's chair. He is measuring me with a sliding +scale, the brass end of which feels cold against my forehead. Curious +sensation, as if I was upside down at a Bootmaker's. Sun in my eyes. +Tittering from girls on benches in front.</p> + +<p>A party of Blazers has just come up—I fear in a frivolous spirit. Begin +to wish now I had had this done privately.</p> + +<hr /><br /> + +<center><span class="smcap">The Land of the 'Arry'uns.</span>—'Am'stead 'Eath.</center><br /> + +<hr /> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 45px;"> +<img src="images/132g.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> + +<p> </p> +<hr class="pg" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI, VOL. 93. SEPTEMBER 17, 1887***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 33717-h.txt or 33717-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/3/7/1/33717">http://www.gutenberg.org/3/3/7/1/33717</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>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. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. 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C. Burnand + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 93. September 17, 1887 + + +Author: Various + +Editor: F. C. Burnand + +Release Date: September 13, 2010 [eBook #33717] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI, +VOL. 93. SEPTEMBER 17, 1887*** + + +E-text prepared by Neville Allen, Malcolm Farmer, and the Project +Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustrations. + See 33717-h.htm or 33717-h.zip: + (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/33717/33717-h/33717-h.htm) + or + (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/33717/33717-h.zip) + + + + + +PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI + +VOLUME 93. + +SEPTEMBER 17, 1887. + + + * * * * * + + +OUR IGNOBLE SELVES. + +(_Lament by a Reader of "Letters to the Papers."_) + +[Illustration] + + OH! bless us and save us! Like men to behave us + We Britons once held it our glory; + Now Party bids fair to befool and enslave us. + We're lost between Liberal and Tory! + Some quidnunc inditeth a letter to GLADSTONE, + The style of it, "Stand and deliver!" + Its speech may be rude, and its tone quite a cad's tone, + Its logic may make a man shiver. + _Au contraire_ it _may_ be most lucid and modest, + In taste and in pertinence equal + (Though such a conjunction would be of the oddest), + But what, anyhow, is the sequel? + Rad papers _all_ cry, "We've once more before us + An instance of folly inrushing." + Whilst _all_ the Conservative Journals in chorus + Declare "it is perfectly crushing!" + "Little Pedlington's" snubbed by the Liberal Press, + And urged such fool tricks to abandon. + Cry Tories, "I guess the Old Man's in a mess, + He hasn't a leg left to stand on!" + Oh! save us and bless us! The shirt of old Nessus, + Was not such a snare to the hero, + As poisonous faction. Crass fools we confess us, + With sense and with spirit at zero. + If thus we comport us like blind sprawling kittens, + Or pitiful partisan poodles, + 'Twill prove Party makes e'en of freeminded Britons, + A race of incontinent noodles! + + * * * * * + +"TO TEAPOT BAY AND BACK." + +LONDONERS who like but are weary of the attractions of Eastend-on-Mud, +and want a change, can scarcely do better than spend twenty-four hours +in that rising watering-place Teapot Bay. I say advisedly "rising," +because the operation has been going on for more than forty years. In +these very pages a description of the "juvenile town," appeared nearly +half a century ago. Then it was said that the place was "so infantine +that many of the houses were not out of their scaffold-poles, whilst +others had not yet cut their windows," and the place has been growing +ever since--but very gradually. The "ground plan of the High Street" of +those days would still be useful as a guide, although it is only fair to +say that several of the fields then occupied by cabbages are now to some +extent covered with empty villas labelled "To Let." In the past the High +Street was intersected by roads described as "a street, half houses, +half potatoes," "a street apparently doing a good stroke of business," +"a street, but no houses," "a street indigent, but houseless," "a street +which appears to have been nipped in the kitchens," "a street thickly +populated with three inhabitants," and last but not least, "a street in +such a flourishing condition that it has started a boarding-house and +seminary." The present condition of Teapot Bay is much the same--the +roads running between two lines of cellars (contributions to houses that +have yet to be built) are numerous and testify to good intentions never +fulfilled. There is the same meaningless tower with a small illuminated +clock at the top of it, and if the pier is not quite so long as it was +thirty or forty years ago, it still seems to be occupying the same site. + +[Illustration: Cheap and Picturesque Roots for Tourists.] + +The means of getting to Teapot Bay is by railway. Although no doubt +numbered amongst the cheap and picturesque routes for tourists, the +place is apparently considered by the authorities as more or less of a +joke. Margate, Ramsgate, Westgate and Broadstairs, are taken _au +serieux_, and have trains which keep their time; but Teapot Bay, +seemingly, is looked upon as a legitimate excuse for laughter. If two +trains are fixed to start at 12, and 12.30, the twelve o'clock train +will leave at 12.30, and the 12.30 at 1. The authorities endeavour to +have a train in hand at the end of the day, and I fancy are generally +successful in carrying out their intentions. But between London and +Teapot Bay there are many slippery carriages, which stop at various +Junctions, and refuse to go any further in the required direction. When +this happens, the weary traveller has to descend, cross a platform, and +try another line. If he is a man of determination, and is not easily +disheartened, nine times out of ten he ultimately reaches Teapot Bay, +where his arrival causes more astonishment than gratification. + +When I got to this "rising watering-place" the other day, I found an +omnibus in waiting, ready to carry me to the town, which is some little +distance from the station. We travelled by circular tour, which included +a trot through many of the fields of my boyhood, now, alas! potatoless, +and covered with weeds! In one of these fields I noticed a canvas booth, +three or four flags, and a group of about twenty spectators, inspecting +a gentleman in a scarlet coat, mounted on rather a large-boned horse. + +"They still have a country-fair here?" I suggested to the person who had +collected my sixpence. + +"That isn't a fair, Sir--them's the Races," was the reply. + +"Not very well attended, I fear?" I observed. + +[Illustration: A Circular Tour.] + +"Better than they was last year--why the whole town has gone to see them +this time." + +A little later we reached the principal inn of the place, which was +described in a local Handbook as "an old-established hotel, but +comfortable." Rather, to my annoyance (as I was anxious to preserve my +_incognito_), I was received by the landlord with respectful cordiality. +"Glad you have honoured us, Sir--proud of your presence." + +I made a sign to him not to betray me, and asked for my room. + +"Well, Sir, we must put _you_ into the Rotunda." + +Again by a gesture inviting silence as to my identity, I mounted a +flight of stairs, and found myself in a room that once, I think, must +have been entirely arbour. Much of the arbour still remained, but a +large slice had been partitioned off affording space for a +chimney-piece, two chairs, a washstand and a bed. By opening a window +which reached to the ground, I found myself on a balcony covered in with +creepers, and beneath which was a gas-lamp labelled "Hotel Tap." In +front of me was a field with the foundation (long since completed) for +some houses at the end of it. On my left another field in the same state +of passive preparation, and on my right a side view of the Ocean. It was +growing dark, so after an "old-fashioned but comfortable" dinner, I went +out for a stroll. + +"Pleased you should honour us," said the landlord, as he opened the door +to allow me to pass. Again to my annoyance, as it was vexatious to be +thus identified in this out-of-the-way place as one of the celebrities +of the hour. + +The visitors and other inhabitants of Teapot Bay had returned from the +Races, and were walking on the pier listening to the band. The gentlemen +were in flannels, the ladies decorated with yards of white ribbon. The +band was more select than numerous. Its conductor beat time with his +left hand, while with his right he played the "air" of the tune at the +moment attracting his attention upon an elaborate instrument that looked +like a cross between a clarionet and an old-fashioned brass serpent. +There was not much drumming, because the drummer spent nearly all his +ample leisure on more or less successful efforts to vend programmes. The +band was in a gusty alcove at one end of the pier, a small room covered +with placards of a Wizard who, after making the acquaintance of "The +Crowned Heads of Europe," was to perform there "to-night," was at the +other. Having soon exhausted the pleasure derivable from listening to +the band, I sought out the wizard. + +"Oh, he ain't going to do it again until next Saturday," was the answer +of a little girl who had charge of a turnstile, when I asked for a +ticket. "But you can see him then." + +[Illustration: "You're up!"] + +I retired. As all the shops (possibly a couple of dozen) were closed, I +returned to my hotel--really a very comfortable one. In the morning I +thought I would have a sea-bath. There were a few machines, which were +manipulated with ropes and windlasses. There was an elderly man in +charge, who informed me that he could not lower one of these vehicles +until his mate returned. + +"Gone to breakfast?" I suggested. + +"Breakfast--no one here has time for breakfast!" was the reply. + +When I left, the landlord again murmured his thanks for the honour I had +done him by patronising his hotel. Still anxious to preserve my +_incognito_, in bidding him adieu I begged him not to allow my name to +appear in the Visitors' List. + +"You may be sure I won't Sir," said he with a bow as he opened the door, +and a tip-inviting "boots" put my portmanteau on the omnibus starting +for the station,--"_as I don't know it!_" + +On the whole I prefer Eastend-on-Mud to Teapot Bay! + + * * * * * + +A PRETTY CENTENARIAN. + +(_Mr. Bull's Song on Miss Columbia's Hundredth Birthday._) + + "The chief authorities of the several States of this Union have + resolved to celebrate, on the 15th, 16th, and 17th days of September + next, at Philadelphia, the first centennial anniversary of the + framing of the Constitution of the United States, with military and + industrial displays, and with other suitable ceremonies."--_Letter + of Invitation to Mr. Gladstone from the Constitutional Centennial + Commission._ + +[Illustration: _John Bull._ "A Hundred Years Old, my Dear! Who would +have thought it! But then you have such a wonderful constitution!"] + +AIR.--"_I'm getting a Big Boy now._" + + YOU have passed through the troubles of national youth, + (To have safely survived them's a boon,) + You have out your eye-teeth, you look pretty, in truth, + But much the reverse of a "spoon." + We gaze on you fondly, admiringly, dear; + Few traces of age on _your_ brow. + A hundred this year? Then it's perfectly clear + You are getting a great girl now. + +_Chorus._ + + You are getting a great girl now, + And you know it, COLUMBIA, I trow. + Philadelphia's "boom" + Leaves for doubt little room + That you're getting a great girl now. + + I feel like Papa, who though elderly's fresh, + And with younkers can sympathise still; + You are bone of my bone, you are flesh of my flesh, + And I bear you the warmest good-will. + _My_ centennial dates which have rapidly run, + I have given up counting, somehow; + Like me, you'll be learning life is not _all_ fun, + For you're getting a great girl now. + +_Chorus._ + + You are getting a great girl now. + With health and that radiant brow, + One hardly would say + You're a hundred to-day, + Though you're getting a great girl now. + + You've gone in for Parties.--my plague, dear, at home; + If anyone's sick of 'em _I_ am,-- + Your land is so large you need hardly to roam, + Yet you're known from St. James's to Siam. + We greet you as Cousin, our family throng + Is wide, but you're welcome, I vow. + Come often, stay long, you can hardly do wrong, + Though you're getting a great girl now. + +_Chorus._ + + You are getting a great girl now, + The rawness of youth you outgrow. + I am proud of your looks, + Like your art, and your books; + You _are_ getting a great girl now. + + To your big birthday party 'twas kind to invite + My WILLIAM; I'm sure he'd have come + And danced at your ball with the greatest delight, + But for years, and some business at home. + He's really a marvel, you know, for his age; + At your great Philadelphia pow-wow + He'd have reeled you off columns of talk, I'll engage, + Though he's getting an Old Boy now. + +_Chorus._ + + He's getting an Old Boy now, + Yet but for our big Irish row, + He'd have come like a shot, + And orated a lot, + Though he's getting an Old Boy now. + + Your health, my COLUMBIA! A hundred? Seems queer! + What a sweet Centenarian you make! + I suppose it's your fine "Constitution," my dear; + Which nothing, I hope, will e'er shake. + You have proved you have not only swiftness, but stay; + Well, long may you flourish and grow! + Many happy--and hearty--returns of the Day! + You are getting a great girl now! + +_Chorus._ + + You are getting a great girl now; + May you prosper, and keep out of row; + Shun bunkum and bawl, + All that's shoddy and small, + For you're getting a _great_ girl now! + + * * * * * + +THE FATHER OF THE MAN. + +A CASE of some interest to Self-made Men, the conviction of a boy fined +half-a-crown for playing, with some other boys, the game of "brag," +occasioned Mr. SHIEL, on the Southwark Bench, to observe that "Gambling +was the first step towards crime. Boys who began with gambling, very +often ended by being thieves." Too often, perhaps, but, it may be hoped, +not always. The boy who begins by playing at pitch-and-toss, surely +doesn't always grow up to be a man who actually commits manslaughter. He +may possibly stop short of larceny, burglary, or housebreaking, and do +nothing worse than getting a useless, but not absolutely criminal +livelihood, by betting on the Derby and the St. Leger, or speculating on +the Stock Exchange. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: FORM. + +_Public School Boy (to General Sir George, G.C.B., G.S.I., V.C., &c. &c. +&c.)_ "I SAY, GRANDPAPA,--A--WOULD YOU MIND JUST PUTTING ON YOUR HAT _A +LITTLE STRAIGHTER?_ HERE COMES _CODGERS_--HE'S AWFULLY PARTICULAR--AND +HE'S THE _CAPTAIN OF OUR ELEVEN, YOU KNOW!_"] + + * * * * * + +WORDS IN SEASON. + +NEWS are by no means wanting in the newspapers. A surprising telegram +from Vienna announces that:-- + + "A large shark has been captured close to the harbour of Fiume. It + is four and a half metres long, and weighs 1,460 kilogrammes. The + stomach contained a pair of human feet with the boots on." + +The shark with two feet, and boots inside of it to boot, beats JERROLD'S +"San Domingo Billy," in _Black Eyed Susan_, with a watch in his +maw--whereby hung a yarn. Provincial journals, please copy, and report a +jack that was so big as to have swallowed jack-boots. You may calculate +that they will go down with some of your readers too. Nothing like +leather. + +The gooseberry season is over, but if this were the height of it, the +prodigious fruit of that family would be unmentionable to any scientific +assembly. Nevertheless, Dr. C. FALBERG read a paper to an audience at +the British Association upon "Saccharine, the New Sweet Product of Coal +Tar," which, in connection with the John Hopkins' University (U.S.) he +discovered in 1879. Coal tar has been brought to a pretty pitch. He +averred this saccharine to be 250 times sweeter than sugar. Must have +used nice means to calculate that quantity of the quality of sweetness. +Said it had become an article of commerce--had a large sale in Germany, +was perfectly harmless, he had himself used it for nine years, and it +produced no injurious effect upon him. Apparently, then, he used to eat +it, and if he didn't might have invited his hearers likewise to eat him. +This "Saccharine" bears a somewhat long name, which, as it is a +commercial article, might perhaps be compendiously replaced with +"Sugarine." + +The sea-serpent, _Python marinus--Python Ambulatoris_, or _Python +Walkerii_--seems not just yet to have been satisfactorily sighted either +by sailors or marines. However, he may be expected to turn up again very +soon, this time probably coiled in constrictor fashion, as an oceanic +ophidian, around a Laocoon or leviathan of a species very like a whale. + + * * * * * + +The Duke's Motto. + +MR. DUKE, Secretary to the Liberal-Unionists, says that they consider +Liberal reunion as desirable, but "with one opinion" they decline to do +anything until publicly authorised to do so by Lord HARTINGTON and the +Liberal-Unionist leaders. This DUKE'S motto is evidently "Ditto to Lord +HARTINGTON." DUKE'S "Dittos" may in future pair off with GLADSTONE'S +"Items." + + * * * * * + +A VERY PRETTY TALE BY ANDERSON. + +MY DEAR MR. PUNCH, + +In producing _The Winter's Tale_ at the Lyceum, that most charming young +actress, Miss MARY ANDERSON, deserves well, not only of her country (if +she insists upon calling England "abroad," like some of her +compatriots), but also of our country, which, I presume, was furthermore +the country of her ancestors. If the shade of Master WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE +will pardon the liberty, the play is a very good one. It has an +interesting plot, with plenty of scope for good acting, good music, and +last, and not least, good scenery. Why it should not have been revived +before I cannot imagine, unless it be that London theatres have men and +not ladies to manage them. Had it been produced in the IRVING _regime_, +Miss ELLEN TERRY could have played--and played well--the parts of +_Hermione_ and _Perdita_; but I fail to see where the name of the lessee +would have come in. _Leontes_ is not a very prominent personage, and +even had it been coupled with _Autolycus_, still the demands upon Mr. +IRVING'S talent would have been insufficient, not only to please +himself, but also (which is of equal importance) to satisfy the +audience. + +[Illustration: A Picture from the Stone.] + +However, when Miss ANDERSON takes the reins of stage management in to +her own fair and shapely hands, the necessity of providing for a +tragedian of the first class disappears. The "leading man" of her +company is Mr. FORBES-ROBERTSON--a most talented person. He can paint +pictures, and play remarkably well in certain characters. His _Captain +Absolute_ was far from bad, and his _Romeo_ more than good. As _Leontes_ +he has a part rather out of his line; but, all things considered, he +fills it very well. It may be objected that he is rather effeminate, and +that his costume would have been more becoming had he worn what the +ladies (I believe) term "half sleeves;" but for all that, his reading of +the character was entirely conscientious, if not absolutely right. But +naturally the success of Saturday evening was Miss ANDERSON, who was as +matronly dignified as _Hermione_, as she was deliciously girlish as +_Perdita_. She "looked" both parts to perfection. It may be my fancy, +but I imagine she has greatly improved since we saw her last in London. +The bass notes of her silvery voice have mellowed, and her attitudes, +always graceful, are seemingly now more spontaneous, and consequently +more natural. Charming as _Juliet_, she is more charming as _Hermione_, +and most charming as _Perdita_. Nothing prettier than her dance in the +"Pastoral Scene" has been seen in a London Theatre for many a long +year. + +[Illustration: Young and Harpy.] + +And my reference to the "Pastoral Scene," (by Mr. HAWES CRAVEN) recalls +the fact to my mind that all the scenery is excellent. The _Palace of +Leontes_ by Mr. W. TELBIN, is only equalled by Mr. W. TELBIN'S _Queen's +Apartment_, and a wonderful cloth of a roadside with a view of a flock +of sheep grazing on the brow of a hill (again by Mr. HAWES CRAVEN, who +seems to have become Artist in Ordinary to Arcadia), is not more +remarkable than Mr. HANN'S Court of Justice. In the last stage-picture +it is possible, but not probable, that the hypercritical might suggest +that the accessories are slightly suggestive of a kitchen, on the score +that the altar is something like a silver grill, and the Court Herald +appears, during a portion of the action of the piece, to be cooking +chops. Personally, I think this idea rather far-fetched, although, of +course, there is some resemblance (no doubt purely accidental) between +the helmets of the soldiers and the brass coal-scuttle of a modern +drawing-room. And I will even go further, and admit that, to a careless +observer, some of the warriors may appear to be wearing the garb of +Harlequin; but when it is hinted that _Leontes_, in his first attitude +on his throne, is not unlike a Guy on the Fifth of November, I feel that +the wish must be father of the thought, and that the resemblance is +purely imaginary. + +[Illustration: A Scene on its Metal.] + +Leaving the scenery to come to the acting, I may say that the play is +generally well cast. Mr. MACLEAN and Mr. CHARLES COLLETTE are both very +amusing, the first as _Camillo_, and the last as _Autolycus_, and Mr. +GEORGE WARDE is quietly humorous with the baby. When I say quietly +humorous, I do not mean that he trenches in the least on the ground +occupied by either the Clown of Pantomime or the Clown of SHAKSPEARE. He +does not sit upon the infant, or throw it about--no, nor even sing to it +a little comic song. He gets all his effects by merely carrying it +quietly about, and showing it, with an assumption of gravity that is +killing, to Mr. FORBES-ROBERTSON. To turn to the less important +characters of the play, Mr. DAVIES as a gaoler suggests that in "those +days" prison officials were sometimes whatever happened to be the +equivalent of the period to the modern "masher." Miss ZEFFIE TILBURY, +Miss HELENA DACRE, and Miss DESMOND ("1st Lady with a song" and gigantic +lyre) are all equally good, and even the subordinate female parts have +efficient representatives. + +Returning to the gentlemen (a difficult task when it entails leaving +such pleasant company) Mr. F. H. MACKLIN as _Polixenes_ is sufficiently +robust in his manly bearing to suggest the necessary contrast with +_Leontes_, and Mr. FULLER MELLISH is picturesque, painstaking and +conscientious as _Florizel_. + +[Illustration: An Infant Phenomenon.] + +I began with Miss ANDERSON and (much to my regret) I must end with her. +She is equally charming as _Hermione_ and _Perdita_. Her cry of horror +and dead faint in the Hall of Justice on learning of the loss of +_Mamillius_, is one of many points that profoundly impressed the +audience, and in her comedy scene with _Polixenes_ in Act I, in which +she asks him _a propos_ of _Leontes_, "Was not my lord the verier wag o' +the two?" her smiling glance at her sombre lord is simply inimitable. I +can quite fancy that _Leontes_ when he saw _Hermione_, and _Florizel +Perdita_, must have talked of their condition (allowing for the loss of +their hearts) as I describe myself when I assume the signature of + +ONE WHO HAS GONE TO PIECES. + + * * * * * + +A PLEA FOR THE BIRDS. + +(_To the Ladies of England._) + +[Illustration] + + Lo! the sea-gulls slowly whirling + Over all the silver sea, + Where the white-toothed waves are curling, + And the winds are blowing free. + There's a sound of wild commotion, + And the surge is stained with red; + Blood incarnadines the ocean, + Sweeping round old Flamborough Head. + + For the butchers come unheeding + All the torture as they slay, + Helpless birds left slowly bleeding, + When the wings are reft away. + There the parent bird is dying, + With the crimson on her breast, + While her little ones are lying + Left to starve in yonder nest. + + What dooms all these birds to perish, + What sends forth these men to kill, + Who can have the hearts that cherish + Such designs of doing ill? + Sad the answer: English ladies + Send those men, to gain each day + What for matron and for maid is + All the Fashion, so folks say. + + Feathers deck the hat and bonnet. + Though the plumage seemeth fair, + _Punch_, whene'er he looks upon it, + Sees that slaughter in the air. + Many a fashion gives employment + Unto thousands needing bread, + This, to add to your enjoyment, + Means the dying and the dead. + + Wear the hat, then, _sans_ the feather, + English women, kind and true; + Birds enjoy the summer weather + And the sea as much as you. + There's the riband, silk, or jewel, + Fashion's whims are oft absurd; + This is execrably cruel; + Leave his feathers to the bird! + + * * * * * + +ROBERT AT MARLOW. + +"HERE we are again!" as the Clown says in the Pantermine, at butiful +Great Marlow, looking jest as bootiful as ever, though there is jest a +few tears a falling from the dark clowds coz the sun doesn't shine as it +did when we was in grand old Lundon last week, and turn all the drops of +rain into reel dimons. My son WILLIAM has cum with us, and he says as +how this lovely place makes quite a Poet of him, so he dashed off the +following description of it larst nite when the rain was a coming down +in palefuls, witch we all thinks to be amost as butiful as it's trew:-- + + "To Marlow have we come, a little city, + Famous for pretty girls and boating, he + Who has not seen it, will be much to pity, + So says King ROBERT, and I quite agree + Of all the towns on Thames there's none more pretty, + Pangbourne perhaps, but that you soon may see. + Our nice clean lodging's near the flowing river, + A noble stream, much like the Guadalquiver." + +I haven't corrected none of his rayther rum spelling, but writ it down +jest as he wrote it all out of his hone hed. Not having ever herd of the +place that he says the River is like, I natrally arsked him where it +were, and he said in Sow Ameriky. What it is to be not only a Poet but a +geolergist as well! ah, it's all owing to the Bellowsmender's Skool. + +I don't find much difference in the old Place xcep that it's gitting +bigger, witch it's a pity, but how can one be surprized. If peeple finds +out a perfec pairodice they natrally tells their friends of it, and so +more cums ewery year. Among others we've got a real live Hem Pea, but +he's here on the sly, having told the Tory Whip as he's bin obligated to +go to Swizzerland to see his pore sick Mother-in-Law! A nice sort of +green Whip he must ha' bin to be so eesily gammond. His wally told me as +he had shaved off his beard so nobody knowed him, but for fear of +accidence he passes ewery Satterday and Sunday at a farm yard inland. +Wot a lively life for a reel Swell! + +I've ony bin here jest a few days, and I've had another startling +adwenture. I never seed such a plaice as this is for adwentures. I had +taken my favorit stroll to Temple Lock, and had my customary chat with +the werry intellegent Lock Keeper there on things in general, and +Locksmen's trubbles in partickler, and was walking gently home, wen I +herd the most unusual report of Guns close by me, on the hopposite Bank; +and jest as I came up to where they was a shooting, I seed three Gents +raise their sanguinary Rifels and haim bang at my dewoted hed! I hadn't +time to shout tout or to run away, so I had to stand it like a traitor +or a dezerter. Luckely they missed me, and, laying down their murdrous +weppons, went into the ouse. I was so prostrated with estonishment that +I remaned fixt on the spot. Luckely my son WILLIAM came by in a Bote, so +I hollowed to him, and, getting in, he pulled me across the foaming +River. I luckely remembered hearing 2 of the Tems Consewatifs a torking +at the LORD MARE'S Bankwet about the Buy Lors, and that one on em was a +fine of 40_s_. for ewerrybody as shot a gun across the River. So, harmed +with this nollidge, I at wunce adrest myself to the estonished Gents +about the enormous sum as they wood have to pay me if as how as I went +and told. I had bin a making the Calkerlashon all the way across, so I +was able to say boldly, eleven shots, at 40_s_. per shot, is twenty-too +pound! One of the gents turned gashly pail, and another sed as they +woodn't do it not never no more, so I kindly promist not to do wot I +might do, and rode away in our Bote with the feeling of a Judge a +pardoning 3 criminals. They did say as they could not have bin a haiming +at me becoz they fired up in the hair, where the birds was; but how was +I to know that, wen the dedly weppens was pinted bang at me, and how, +too, about the falling bullets? They must have bin quite fust-rate +shots, for wen a hole flock of pidgeons flew into their garden, amost +close to 'em, they all three fired at the lot, and acshally wounded one +of 'em, poor thing. + +When warking by the side of the River this arternoon, I was arsked by a +young, but not werry successful angler, what o'clock it was. I told him, +in course, and he said as he coudn't fish no more, as it was lunch time, +so we warked along together, and he told me all his trubbels. He had bin +at it for five days, and had never cort but one fish, and he was too +little to keep. He was a nice brite young chap, so I simpathised with +him. He said other peeple cort plenty of fish, but they came and looked +at his bait, and then turned round and swum away; so I gave him a bit of +adwice as I had wunce herd of. Don't buy your flys, I ses, but make 'em +yourself. Anythink will do if it has 4 legs, and 2 wings made of gorze. +And when the fishes sees it they will say to one another, "Hullo, BILL, +here's a rum-looking fly--I never tasted one like him--so here goes," +and he gobbles up your fly, and so you has him slick. How my young frend +did larf. Ah, says he, that's the frute of indulging your curiossity. +I'll set to work this evening and make one, as I've no dout he did. + +I took a walk this morning in butiful Quarry Woods, but O what a site +met my gaze! It used to be one of the atrakshuns of the place for +anyboddy as could walk. What is it now? All the roads as bin dug up, and +left so, and at the entrance to the lovely paths there are orrid bords +put up, saying, "No path--trespassers persecuted." But it isn't true. +They are Paths, and they leads everywhere, and I wasn't persecuted. All +the finest trees are smeared over with dirty bills, saying, "No person +allowed to camp, land, or picknick," and sumbody had added, "Or cough, +or sneeze, without permission!" As a poor feller said to me, who was +hobbling along on the horful road, and who knew the late propryeter, +"Ah, a kind, Cristian Landlord ought to live as long as he posserbly +can, for he never can tell what's to foller." + +There's a place there where the Wolunteers practises firing, and I'm +afraid they must be werry careless, for they writes up, "No one must +damage the property of the Corpse," which is werry kind of 'em, so far. + +ROBERT. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: A VIKING ON MODERN FASHION. + +"WHAT DOES T'LASS WANT WI' YON _BOOSTLE_ FOR? IT AREN'T BIG ENOUGH TO +_SMOGGLE_ THINGS, AND SHE CAN'T _STEER_ HERSELF WI' IT!"] + + * * * * * + +THE WAIL OF THE MALE; + +_Being a British Workman's View of the Cheap Female Labour Question, +respectfully submitted to the Trades Union Congress._ + +_Bill Smith to his Shopmate, Ben Jones, loquitur_:-- + + EH? Give 'em the Suffrage--the Women? Why not? + What else, that's worth having, lads, _haven't_ they got? + If it's levelling up, let 'em have it all round, + And _we_ shan't be the first to complain, I'll be bound. + They've cut down our wages, and copied our coats, + And I really don't see why they shouldn't have Votes. + Wish _I_ was a woman, old fellow, that's flat; + I should then have a chance, and know what to be at. + I have just got the "bullet," Mate--sacked without notice, + I wonder what pull _my_ possessin' the Vote is? + _She_ hasn't got ne'er a one--_she's_ got my job, + I lose a fair crib, and the boss saves ten bob! + I've been at it five years, kept a family on it, + And she--well, the first thing she buys is a bonnet! + They're cutting us out, Mate--the Women are--straight, + And I s'pose it's no use for to kick agen Fate, + But it seems blooming hard on the wife and the kids, + _She_'s a woman, of course, though she can't earn the "quids," + But then, being married, she's out of the hunt + For earning or votes. Look here, BILL! If they shunt + You and me, and our like, as they're doing all round, + Because Women are cheap, and there's heaps to be found, + Won't it come to this, sooner or later, my boy, + That the most of us chaps will be out of employ, + Whilst the Women will do all the work there's to do, + And keep us, and the kids, _on about half our "screw"_? + Who's a-going to gain by that there but the boss? + And for everyone else it is bound to be loss. + A nice pooty look-out! Oh, I know what they say;-- + That the women work better than us for less pay, + And are much less the slaves of the pint and the pot; + What's that got to do with it? All tommy rot! + We have all got to live, and if women-folk choose + To collar our cribs or to cut down our screws, + _They_ will have to be bread-winners, leaving us chaps + To darn stockings at home with the kids on our laps. + Well, I hope as they'll like it. I tell you what, neighbour, + The world's being ruined by petticoat labour. + Besides, Mate, in spite of this Woman's Rights fuss, + Work don't make 'em better _as_ women, but wus. + It mucks 'em for marriage, and spiles 'em for home, + 'Cos their notion of life is to racket and roam. + Just look at that work-girl there, her with the fringe! + She's a nice pooty specimen! Makes a chap cringe + To think of that flashy young chit as a wife, + That's what cheap woman labour will do for our life. + Oh, give 'em the Vote, and the breeks, while you're at it, + Make 'em soldiers, and Bobbies, and bosses. But, drat it, + If this blessed new-fangled game's to prewail, + I pities the beggar who's born a poor Male! + + * * * * * + +BACKING BACO. + +THE movements of Prince FERDINAND, as recently reported, appear to be +shrouded in some mystery. It was announced that his Mamma was about to +join him, and that a suite of apartments was being already prepared for +her reception at the Palace. No sooner, however, was this encouraging +piece of news published, than it was followed by a sinister rumour that +the Prince himself was about to hurry off from Sofia to Baco, one of his +country-seats on the frontiers of Hungary. As there is no mention of his +being accompanied by his _suite_, it is doubtful if, in going to Baco, +the Prince intended to take "returns." Naturally the Sobranje would like +to be assured that, in going to Baco, he was really only going there and +back, and did not mean, as the name of the place might suggest, to back +out of the situation altogether. But perhaps there may not be, after +all, any good foundation for the story of the proposed journey, in which +event all this disturbing talk of a visit to Baco will probably end, as +it naturally should, in smoke. + + * * * * * + +DEAR AT THE PRICE.--The farmers of Derbyshire have been meeting together +and trying to fix "the price of milk during the ensuing winter." Well, +the price that we in London pay for milk seems only too often to +be--scarlet fever. _That_ price requires regulating. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: THE "FINAL TABLEAU." + +("A CONSUMMATION DEVOUTLY TO BE WISHED."--SHAKSPEARE.)] + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: PROBLEM. TO FIND THE LAW COURTS. + +(_Sketched on the spot, Arundel Street, Victoria Embankment._)] + + * * * * * + +HOUSE AND HOME. + +MY DEAR MONEYPENNY, + +PRAY excuse one more refusal of your kind and seasonable invitation, so +often repeated, to come and stay with you at the "Sycamores." Believe +me, there is nobody in the world than yourself I had rather live with if +obliged to choose somebody. But to pass more than a few hours at a +stretch in anyone's house besides my own, is more than I can abide, +unless now and then for a night or so at an hotel, where I am not +expected to notice anybody, and nobody minds me except the waiters in +attendance, whom I am not ashamed of giving trouble. Besides, my dear +fellow, you have no idea of what my making myself at home in your +quarters as I do in my own would mean. Am in the first place, a very +late riser. If my mind is occupied with any problem, usually lie in bed +and think it out, very often until noon, or, even later. + +When I have done breakfast (invariably taken in my own room), I always +smoke a pipe, and then set-to at reading or writing for a longer or +shorter time, and go on smoking at intervals in the meanwhile. Sometimes +sit and meditate till I lapse into a brown study, and am then liable to +dream day-dreams, and fall into fits of unconscious cerebration, in +which I frequently start up and spout SHAKSPEARE, or sing songs, or hum +passages in operas, oratorios, symphonies, and overtures, a trick which, +as my voice is very harsh and discordant, would of course be most +irritating and offensive to anybody who could hear me, as would be +generally the case anywhere out of my own den. Could never bear to be +punctual to meal times, must always dine at what time it suits me; am +utterly incapable of observing regular hours. + +So I might go on. But I trust I have now said enough to show you what a +bore I should be if I were to repay your generous importunity to become +your guest and do whatever I pleased so ill as to comply with it. +Enough. I am afraid I have already bored you with much too long a +letter. Let me only add that almost all social amusements, particularly +cards and dancing, and every sort of small talk, common-place +conversation, chaff, or gossip, or discussion of any subject, except +philosophy, science, politics and theology, on which I am prone to +argument, whilst my opponents generally lose their temper--are all so +many bores of the very first magnitude to your sincerely candid and +scrupulously outspoken friend, + +_Tub Snuggery._ ANTONY CAVEBEAR. + + * * * * * + +THE BRIGAND'S DOOM. + +_Brief libretto for a Trades-Unionist Grand Opera written up to date._ + + _The Scene represents a Country Mansion surrounded by its grounds. + Members of the New Labour Electoral Association discovered hanging + about in threatening attitudes. As the Curtain rises they sing the + following Chorus_:-- + +CHORUS. + + SEE us here, in jubilation, + A brand-new Association. + Still, the truth to tell, although + What we want we don't quite know. + We are bound the world to wake, + If sufficient noise we make. + Hail our programme then with bliss, + Which is, briefly stated, this: + No longer we'll trust representative nous, + But force for ourselves Parliamentary gates, + As Members we'll take our own seats in the House, + And have our expenses paid out of the rates. + +A LOCAL RATEPAYER (_andante_). + + Nay, nay! To take your seats, you're free, + But not, oh! not, to burthen me! + Enough am I already charged, + And would not see the sum enlarged, + Your pay,--that is your own affair; + I care not whence it emanates: + I only most distinctly swear, + You shall not get it from the rates. + +CHORUS (_advancing on him threateningly_). + + Be still, and know that the whole nation, + Bows down to the Association! + [_The Local Ratepayer cowers before them._ + And yet this question of the land + We own we don't quite understand. + Is there no specialist who'll try + To make it clear? + +_Enter_ Mr. JOSEPH ARCH. _He bounds into their midst._ + +MR. JOSEPH ARCH. + + Why here am I! + You want your intellect to march? + [_They express assent._ + Then listen all to JOSEPH ARCH. + [_They group themselves in attentive + positions gracefully about him._ + +BALLAD. + + A man may own jewels and gold, + A piano, horse, railway shares, + A cellar of wine, new or old, + A house, and the clothes that he wears. + Everything he may sell, or may buy, + That is purchased by wealth or by toil; + But he mustn't own--no matter why-- + A single square yard of the soil. + He this who from HODGE, its true owner, perverts, + Is a brigand, and merits a brigand's deserts! + + This park that around you you see, + These gardens you so much admire, + Each hedgerow, each copse, every tree, + Is the owner's bequeathed from his sire. + He may have remitted his rents! + What of that till the Nation cries "Quits!" + His land, with the march of events, + Being purloined and cut up into bits? + For until to its true owner, HODGE, it reverts,-- + He's a brigand, and merits a brigand's deserts! + + [_At the conclusion of the ballad_ Mr. JOSEPH ARCH _gives a signal + and the_ OWNER OF THE PROPERTY _is led on in the custody of + Trade-Union Myrmidons_. + +CHORUS. + + Rob him! fleece him! gag him! seize him! + Drive him from his country place. + Of his right of tenure ease him; + Call him "Brigand" to his face! + +OWNER OF THE PROPERTY (_recitative_). + + Oh, outrage horrible + And entirely unsatisfactory, + Thus to fasten with salutations + Eminently unpalatable + On the defenceless monied one of the County! + Know ye not that my venerated sire, + A Soap-boiler successful in his line of business + Beyond his wildest visions, + Purchased for eighty thousand pounds sterling, + These acres, as an investment + Speculative and commercial. + Say, then, is it reasonable that I, + His hopeful heir and offspring, + Should be defrauded of what, + At present prices agricultural, + Is but a return dim and disappointing + On his original outlay. + Why call me "Brigand"? Tell me why? + +MR. JOSEPH ARCH (_con fuoco_). + + Your father had no right to buy, + And, as the land to HODGE is due, + We take it thus by force from you! + +_A Crowd of Radical Land Reformers rush in, and seizing on the property, +hew down the timber, cut away the brushwood, and parcel it out into +small allotments._ + +OWNER OF THE PROPERTY (_con animo_). + + And is there for no compensation room? + +Mr. JOSEPH ARCH. + + No! none! And now, behold the Brigand's doom! + + [_Points triumphantly to the work at the back, while he waves the + draft of a new Act of Parliament over the prostrate form of the_ + Owner of the Property, _as the Curtain slowly descends_. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: "MUFTI." + +_Materfamilias (flurried)._ "OH, PLEASE, WILL MR. CHARKLE COME TO OUR +HOUSE DIRECTLY--THE SOOT IS FALLING INTO THE NURSERY, AND----" + +_Mrs. Charkle._ "CERTAINLY, M'UM. LEASTWAYS MY 'USBAND _AIN'T IN BLACK_ +HISSELF TO-DAY, M'UM, BUT I'LL SEND SOMEBODY AT ONCE, M'UM!"] + + * * * * * + +MORE ADVICE GRATIS. + +VICTIM.--We should not advise you to prosecute the constable who +"pummeled you severely," and then took you up for being drunk and +disorderly, because you happened to drop your hymn-book on the pavement +on returning from Church last Sunday evening. We cannot, either, +recommend your going to the Police Station to lodge a complaint, unless +you are an expert pugilist or take the precaution to wear sheet-iron +next the skin. Perhaps the poor fellow was trying to introduce the +_massage_ treatment to your attention. + +RIPARIAN OWNER.--Yes, you can, if you think it worthwhile, sue the +owners of the five houseboats which have moored themselves close to your +front-garden, and to whose proximity you fancy the two cases of typhus +and one of cholera in your family are to be attributed. You ask what the +maximum costs would be. Costs are things which have no maximum. Multiply +your yearly income by the number of boats, and you will be pretty near +the amount. + +HISTORICAL STUDENT.--1. THOMAS CROMWELL was called the "Lord Protector" +because he protected the Lord Chancellor (WOLSEY) from the King's +vengeance. 2. No, the expression "short commons" has nothing do with the +Long Parliament. + +POLITICIAN.--1. You are under a misapprehension in supposing that Mr. +CHAMBERLAIN has undertaken to delimit the Afghan frontier. He has been +appointed a Fishery Commissioner, with full power to investigate the +condition of the Margate whelk-trade. 2. North Sea "Smacksmen" are not +so called in consequence of their recent treatment by the Ostend +fish-wives. + +VOTARY OF SCIENCE.--The Antarctic regions were so named to distinguish +them from the Arctic regions. A rather illiterate sea-captain discovered +them, and at once exclaimed, "Why, these _Aint Arctic!_" They have +retained this quaint title ever since.--No, the British Association does +not require its members to have, as you suppose, "a profound knowledge +of Chemistry, Physiology, Dynamics, and all other branches of Modern +Science." Payment of a guinea entrance-fee is all that is needed. + +NERVOUS INVALID.--It is unfortunate that the last Southbourne Park +train, should "blow off steam and whistle continuously for half an hour +under your windows," at 1.30 A.M. Still, this does not quite excuse your +smashing all the furniture and throwing the fire-irons into the street +in one of the paroxysms you speak of. When you have a lucid interval +write to the Company. No, don't "put a bullet through the +engine-driver's head," as you suggest. Try a _mandamus_ first,--also try +some soothing syrup. + +ANXIOUS ENGINEER.--You ask "if there is any danger attending the +experiment of mixing equal parts of nitro-glycerine, gun-cotton, and +sulphuric acid in an iron tank in your back-garden?" We have never tried +it, so cannot say. The best _modus operandi_ would be to invite your +landlord, mother-in-law, and nearest tax-collector to come and see the +fun. Go off yourself to the seaside, and get one of them to do the +mixing. You would be sure to be interested in the result. + + * * * * * + +THE LOST RECORD. + +(_A Chaunt by an ex-Champion._) + +AIR--"_The Lost Chord._" + + RUNNING one day on the "Cinder," + I led all the field with ease; + I felt I was going strongly, + I romped in quite "as you please." + I knew not what I was doing, + I was "fit as a fiddle" then, + And I made a "Record" that morning + I never shall make again. + + It flooded the sporting papers, + I got the pedestrian palm. + They called me Champion of Champions; + The praise in my ears was balm. + But another "Ped."--confound him!-- + "Cut" my record, in our next strife, + By exactly one-tenth of a second. + I should like to have his life! + + I was Champion of Champions no longer, + Gone, gone was my pride, my peace. + Oh, the cheers for my hated supplanter! + I thought they would never cease. + I have struggled, but struggled vainly, + By practice and training fine, + To regain once more that "Record," + Which for a brief month was mine. + It may be the man who licked me + Will be licked by yet better men, + But the "Record" I lost that morning + _I_ never shall win again. + + * * * * * + +AN "ORANGE FREE STATE" THAT SHOULD HAVE ITS LIBERTY CURTAILED.--Peel on +the pavement. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration] + +THE HOUSE "UP" AT LAST. + +ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT. EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M.P. + +_House of Commons, Tuesday, September 13._--The House is "up," or nearly +so, and if not altogether, more shame for it. _We_ are, as will be seen +from thumb-nail sketch annexed. I'm not only up, but have been off for a +clear week. Come back just to hear HARCOURT'S Speech. Liked to go +finally before, but ARNOLD MORLEY wouldn't let me. "Get a pair," said +he, when I again broached subject, "and go as soon as you like." + +All very well to say, "Get a pair," but where do they grow? In moody +thought, and growing despair, met HARTINGTON'S dog. Here was chance! +"ROY" rather nondescript politician. Says he's a Liberal, but barks in +favour of Government, and, though admits they're not always right +(opposed them, for example, on CADOGAN'S Amendment to Land Bill, and +on Proclaiming of National League), yet steadily votes for them. +Is, in short, a Liberal-Unionist. We're asked not to pair with +Liberal-Unionists. But exceptions to every rule; will make one here. +"ROY" delighted. Says he's sick of politics, and would like a roll on +pasture-land. + +Nearly everyone else off, pair or no pair. Irish Members, with exception +of PARNELL, have nowhere else to go, so make up their minds not only to +stop themselves, but to be the cause of stopping in others. PARNELL long +ago gone off shooting. The O'GORMAN MAHON shook his hand all the way +across Palace Yard, and assured him he might go without a sense of +uneasiness. + +"I'll keep mee oi on things when ye'er gone, dear Bhoy," he said, giving +his Chief resounding whack on back that nearly knocked him down. "We +learnt a thing or two when gettin' the Bill o' Roights through, and I've +seen a thrifle since." + +A dreary place the House, yet struggling through fag-ends of work. Not a +cheery Session from any point of view. No new reputations made; some old +ones shaken, some shattered. + + * * * * * + +SOME NOTES AT STARMOUTH. + +[Illustration] + +_Views after Breakfast._--Now to lay down the lines for my Drama.... +Eleven--and the only lines I have laid down, as yet, are "Act I., Scene +I!" I must stimulate my imagination by the sight of salt water. + +_On the Sands._--Dense crowd. Deafening noise. Penny bagpipes, comb and +paper. Italian girls with accordion, trumpet from sailing-boat. "'Ere +y'are for a jolly sail out, Sir!"--which happens to be just the precise +thing I am _not_ here for. Nor (I should have thought) do I look the +kind of person likely to buy that "strong and emusing toy, one penny, +the little Chinese Bandalore"--but these fellows have no eye for +character. Several shoeblacks very anxious to black my boots, which, as +I tell them, would be "painting the lily." Don't think they understand +me. Stop thoughtlessly to look at a cage containing a tree-frog and two +Japanese rats. Proprietor approaches with plate: "This little Jubilee +Menagerie open free to the Public," he says--"we ope the Public will +respond by a similar liberality." Well, well, if I must--but it really +was _not_ worth a penny. + +Join a crowd: a conjuror--good, I am fond of conjuring. Conjuror now +going to introduce his "celebrated and favourite Shell-trick." Crowd +very obligingly make way for me--capital place in front row. Conjuror +takes a large Nautilus shell. I have never seen this trick--it looks a +good one.... It appears this is his way of making a collection--he comes +to me first. He is sure, he says (he is an impudent dog), that I shall +feel hurt if he passes _me_ over. No change. He begs me not to get +flurried--sooner than deprive me of the pleasure of patronising him, +_he_ will give me change--he does. This is the end of the performance. +Singular how depressed I feel by this petty incident. Blazers in great +force on the sands. Teasing half-offended nursemaids, playing penny +"nap" on newspapers, or lying in pits scooped out of sand, with their +heads on the laps of their fair ones, or pursuing the fair ones, and +putting sand down their backs. + +[Illustration: Charing-Cross.] + +Most flourishing institution on the Beach is certainly Phrenology. No +less than three little platforms, each with a Consulting Chair, a table, +on which stands a meek bust, and a canvas awning overhead, and row of +garden-seats (free) in front. Have long wished to gain insight into this +Science. Think there certainly is something in it. As a Blazer near me +remarks, "Why, you'd say Cocoa-nuts looked all alike, till you come to +see there's differences--and it's the same with 'eds." Cockney tone +about this. To find his proper station, I should have to go, I fancy, to +Charing Cross, Cannon Street, or Waterloo. + +[Illustration: Canon's Treat.] + +Find a Lady-Professor on first platform giving a "delineation" of a live +subject--a turnip-headed little boy of three, who sits with his tongue +out, under the impression he is at the Doctor's. "His self-will is +strong," she is announcing in Sibylline accents to his proud parents, +"and I should say you would find him very strong-willed. I should check +it by curbing his will. Conjugality large, and therefore we may say that +he will be fond of his wife and of his home. Self-esteem only moderate. +It will be useless to bring up this little boy to any trade or business +of a mechanical kind, unless he developes an after-taste for it, which I +do not say he may not--far from it. But he has a brain which will fit +him for great success in some artistic profession. Give him colours and +a brush, and you will see he will immediately commence to +paint--likewise draw. Or he has an organ with which he can be a great +Composer, if you care to develope him that way. Or he would write books +or poetry--that would come very easy to him, he would have no difficulty +in doing it at all. I think that is all with this subject." + +[Illustration: Water-loo.] + +Pass on to Professor PODDER. Venerable gentleman with dark grey beard, +and a certain ponderous playfulness. He has got a subject too--a pretty +little impish girl of eight, who is struggling to suppress a fit of the +giggles. "This is a thoughtful little one we 'ave here," he says, +patting her hair in a fatherly way. "She thinks. Turns over things in +her mind. Reflects. Compares. Memory for dates moderate. She will be +fond of her home, fond of her parents. She will be capable of passing in +an examination--if she takes pains. She finds no difficulty in doing +anything that comes easy to her." (_Here the patient giggles._) "There is +one thing I should like to see--a little more Veneration. Where +Veneration should be I find a distinct depression. This young lady has a +keen sense of the ridiculous. Easily detects what is ridiculous." (_Here +the subject breaks into a scream of laughter by way of corroboration._) +"I have done, young lady. Now, we have a nice large audience--I hope +some other subject will oblige us by stepping up. We like to see one +coming up briskly after another, you know. We don't like to be idle." + +His eye seems glancing in my direction. Off to hear Professor SKITTLES. +He is a bony, lantern-jawed young man, in velveteen jacket, with a +puggaree round his hat. As I come up, he is delineating a lady of +portentous plainness, who sits and sniggers with a dreadful bashfulness. +"This young lady has a large and powerful brain," he says--"plenty of +Wit and Humour, Thoughtfulness and Consideration for Others, Caution, +and Memory for Events that impress her strongly. Her Social Brain is +large; she is fond of Society, and likes to see others enjoying +themselves. Thinks more of others' happiness than her own. We should +like to see a little more 'ope." + +This Professor, I find, enjoys the highest reputation; he measures more, +for one thing, and has an Assistant, who enters all the measurements in +a ledger, which naturally inspires confidence. The Lady delineator, I +also hear, does not think it necessary to measure so much, and is of +opinion that Professor SKITTLES "studies too hard." + +[Illustration: Tennis-Sun and Miltin'.] + +New subject; quite a typical 'ARRY, round back, hock-bottle shoulders, +has shambled up, and taken the chair. No forehead nor chin worth +mentioning; but, as he removes his hat (which he puts on the bust), a +tall crest of yellow hair starts up like a trick wig. Professor measures +him solemnly as he sits with a crooked grin. + +"The measurement of this brain is rather below the average," says the +lecturer, forbearingly. "Here we have a brain measuring only eighteen +and three-quarter inches. A very tall and narrow head. You would find +that this gentleman arrives at his ideas without conscious reflection, +or exercise of thought." (_'ARRY looks gratified._) "He takes a strong +and deep interest in religious subjects." (_Derisive "hor-hor!" from +'ARRY._) "Language strong. He will find no difficulty in putting what he +wishes to say into language with considerable fluency, though perhaps +not with much variety. Great Firmness and Benevolence. The Moral Brain +is large, and your moral standard"--("_My_ what?" _interrupts 'ARRY, +with a suspicious cock of his eye_)--"Your moral standard is high." +("Right!" _says 'ARRY, mollified, and seance terminates_.) + +These delineators certainly put things very agreeably. One might get +some useful hints, too. If Professor SKITTLES could tell me whether I am +most poetic, or witty, or dramatic, I should know exactly what to aim at +in my Nautical Drama. I have never been able to decide which I love the +best--TENNYSON, MILTON, or CAMPBELL. And, after what he found to say +about 'ARRY----but it is all so very public, I don't think I _could_ +bring myself to do it--I will go on.... + +[Illustration: Cam-belle.] + +I hardly know exactly how I came here--but here I am on the platform, +sitting in the Professor's chair. He is measuring me with a sliding +scale, the brass end of which feels cold against my forehead. Curious +sensation, as if I was upside down at a Bootmaker's. Sun in my eyes. +Tittering from girls on benches in front. + +A party of Blazers has just come up--I fear in a frivolous spirit. Begin +to wish now I had had this done privately. + + * * * * * + +THE LAND OF THE 'ARRY'UNS.--'Am'stead 'Eath. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration] 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. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI, VOL. +93. 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