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diff --git a/35734-h/35734-h.htm b/35734-h/35734-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..39bf9b9 --- /dev/null +++ b/35734-h/35734-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,2100 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Transitional//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-transitional.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1" /> + + <title>Punch, 22nd July, 1893.</title> + + <style type="text/css"> + + body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + p {text-align: justify;} + .ind {margin-left: 2em;} + .ind1 {margin-left: 5em; margin-right: 5em;} + .ind2 {margin-left: 8em; margin-right: 5em;} + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 {text-align: center;} + blockquote {text-align: justify; font-size: 0.9em;} + .sans {font-family: sans-serif;} + pre {font-size: 0.7em;} + .sc {font-variant: small-caps;} + .center {text-align: center;} + .center1 {text-align: center; font-size: 0.9em;} + .content {text-align: left; width: 80%; margin-left: auto;} + span.outdent {text-align: left; margin-left: -2em;} + span.outdent1 {text-align: left; margin-left: -1em;} + p.rindent {text-align: right; margin-right: 15em; margin-top: -1em;} + td.note {text-align: left; font-size: 0.9em; font-weight: normal; border: 1px dashed; padding: 1em;} + ul.none {font-size: 1.0em; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; list-style-type: none;} + 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%;} + ins {text-decoration: none; border-bottom: dashed 1px silver;} + .note {margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; font-size: 0.9em;} + p.author {text-align: right; margin-top: -1em; margin-right: 2em;} + 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.i12 {margin-left: 6em;} + .poem1 {margin-left: 35%; margin-right: 10%; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: left;} + .poem1 .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem1 p {margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem1 p.i2 {margin-left: 1em;} + .poem1 p.i4 {margin-left: 2em;} + .poem1 p.i12 {margin-left: 6em;} + .figure, .figcenter, .figright, .figleft {padding: 1em; margin: 0; text-align: center; font-size: 0.8em;} + .figure img, .figcenter img, .figright img, .figleft img + {border: none;} + .figure p, .figcenter p, .figright p, .figleft p + {margin: 0; text-indent: 1em;} + .figcenter {margin: auto;} + .figright {float: right;} + .figleft {float: left;} + + a.footnote:link {color: #3366ff; background: inherit; font-size: 1.2em; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;} + a.footnote:visited {color: #cc00cc; background: inherit; font-size: 1.2em; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;} + a.footnote:hover {color: #ff0000; background: inherit; text-decoration: none;} + a.footnote:active {color: #00ffcc; background: inherit; text-decoration: underline;} + + </style> +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch,or The London Charivari, Volume 105, +July 22nd, 1893, by Various + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Punch,or The London Charivari, Volume 105, July 22nd, 1893 + +Author: Various + +Editor: Sir Francis Burnand + +Release Date: March 31, 2011 [EBook #35734] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH,OR THE LONDON *** + + + + +Produced by Lesley Halamek, Malcolm Farmer and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<hr class="full" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page25" id="page25"></a>[pg 25]</span> +<h1>Punch, or the London Charivari</h1> + +<h2>Volume 105, July 22nd 1893</h2> + +<h3><i>edited by Sir Francis Burnand</i> </h3> +<hr class="full" /> + +<h2>A LONDON PEST.</h2> + +<p>To an impartial observer +the public, philanthropic, and +municipal attempts to honour +the memory of the great and +good, if sometimes mistaken, +Earl of <span class="sc">Shaftesbury</span>, appear +to have been singularly unfortunate. +The West-End +Avenue that bears his name +is more full of music-halls, +theatres, pot-houses, and +curious property, than any +street of equal length and +breadth in the whole Metropolis. +Lord <span class="sc">Shaftesbury</span> may +not have been a Puritan, but +he was essentially a serious +man, and his sympathies were +more with Exeter Hall than +with the Argyle Rooms; and +yet, in the street which is +honoured by his name, it has +been found impossible to remove +the old title of this +historic place from the stone +<i>facade</i> of the Trocadero.</p> + +<p>The fountain at Piccadilly +Circus, which has been unveiled +as the second of the +<span class="sc">Shaftesbury</span> memorials, is +surmounted by—what? Some +writers have called it a girl, +some have called it a boy; +many of the public, no doubt, +regard it as a mythological +bird, and it certainly looks +like the Bolognese Mercury +flying away with the wings of +St. Michael. We are told, on +authority, that it represents +Eros, the Greek god of love, +and his shaft is directed to a +part of London that, more +than any other part, at night, +requires the bull's-eye and +the besom of authority. The +"Top of the Gaymarket" is +in just as bad a condition as it +was when <i>Punch</i> directed attention +to it more than ten +years ago, and the <i>virus</i> since +then has extended as far eastward +as St. Martin's Lane. +Moll Flanders' Parade now +begins at St. James's Church +and ends with Cranbourne +Street. It is unfortunate, to +say the least of it, that Eros +has been selected to point at +this London Pestiduct, and the +sooner it is thoroughly cleansed +and the neighbourhood made +worthy of the Shaftesbury +Fountain, the better.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"><a href="images/025-800.png"><img src="images/025a-450.png" width="450" height="480" alt="AWFUL MOMENT!" /></a> +<h2 class="sans">AWFUL MOMENT!</h2> + +<p class="center"><span class="sc">Conf——! I've forgotten my Dress Coat!!</span>"</p></div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p class="ind1"><span class="sc">Delenda est Drubilana!</span>—The +Drury Lane Committee, +headed by the dauntless <span class="sc">James +O'Dowd</span>, have decided upon +approaching the Duke of <span class="sc">Bedford</span> +with a protest against his +Grace's present expressed intention +of pulling down the +Old Theatre within the next +two years. Probably the result +of this, the latest incident +in the interesting annals of +Old Drury, will simply be to +make another addition to the +well-known collection of "Rejected +Addresses."</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h2>OUR OPERA.</h2> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>To hear sweet strains by <span class="sc">Glück</span> or <span class="sc">Gounod</span>,</p> +<p><span class="sc">Mascagni</span>, <span class="sc">Wagner</span>, one must, you know,</p> +<p class="i12"> Pass slums; at dark it</p> +<p>Is nice in Endell Street and Bow Street;</p> +<p>Still better in that fragrant nose treat—</p> +<p class="i12"> "Mudsalad Market."</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Inside, say, <i>Orpheus</i> sings in Hades</p> +<p>To gallant men and noble ladies—</p> +<p class="i12"> Rank, wealth, and beauty;</p> +<p>Outside, Elysium is forgotten.</p> +<p>To clear away these slums, half rotten,</p> +<p class="i12"> Is no one's duty.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Inside, <span class="sc">Mascagni's</span> <i>Intermezzo</i>,</p> +<p>Though heard in many places, yet so</p> +<p class="i12"> Delightful ever;</p> +<p>Outside, cab touts and paper sellers,</p> +<p>And other people's pert <i>Sam Weller's</i>,</p> +<p class="i12"> Delightful never!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Inside, some day, the newest, <i>Falstaff</i>,</p> +<p>Will occupy a far from small staff</p> +<p class="i12"> Of band and chorus;</p> +<p>Outside, as now, old slums ill-smelling,</p> +<p>And costermongers, shouting, yelling,</p> +<p class="i12"> Will be before us.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Once someone started building greatly,</p> +<p>Walls rose, arranged to form quite stately</p> +<p class="i12"> House, <i>foyers</i>, lobbies.</p> +<p>They stopped, extremely gaunt and lonely,</p> +<p>And, now the site is used, it's only</p> +<p class="i12"> A haunt of bobbies.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>So still Euterpe's home is hidden</p> +<p>In ill-paved slums, through which we've ridden</p> +<p class="i12"> With jolts that jerk us.</p> +<p>How unlike Paris! Did we follow</p> +<p>Her taste, we should enshrine Apollo</p> +<p class="i12"> At Regent Circus.</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h3>JUST CAUSE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>I love you for your splendid hair,</p> +<p class="i2">Your violet eyes, your swaying waist,</p> +<p class="i2">Whose curves exactly suit my taste;</p> +<p>Your radiant smile, your dimples rare.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>I love you for your store of pelf,</p> +<p class="i2">Of course; but most of all, my sweet,</p> +<p class="i2">Because of this—whene'er we meet,</p> +<p><i>You let me talk about myself!</i></p> + </div> </div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h3>ODE DE KNILL—AND CO.</h3> + +<div class="center"><div class="content"><i>Making Something of Nothing!!</i>—Lord +Mayor <span class="sc">Knill</span> has been created a Baronet.<br /> +Sheriffs <span class="sc">Wilkin</span> and <span class="sc">Renals</span>, as being next +to Nil, have been knighted.</div></div> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>"Nobodies" have been Baronets, but still</p> +<p>'Tis wondrous to create one out of <i>Nil</i>!</p> +<p>The Middlesex Artillery Volunteers</p> +<p>Will "make the <i>Wilkin</i> ring" with hearty cheers.</p> +<p>And for the last, he'll bear his honours meekly,</p> +<p>He's <span class="sc">Renals</span> "going strong," not "<i>Renals Weakly</i>."</p> +<p class="i12" style="font-size: smaller;">(For the last, understand <i>Reynolds' Weekly</i>.)</p> +</div></div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p class="ind"><span class="sc">Good Egg-sample!</span>—One egg was sold the +other day for £60 18<i>s.</i> <i>Vide Times</i> of Wednesday +last. The egg was a perfect specimen of +that <i>rara avis in terris</i>, the gigantic <i>Aepyornis +Maximus</i> of Madagascar. What did Mr. +<span class="sc">Stevens</span> do with it? Did he have it made +into several omelettes for a breakfast-party of +a dozen? Of course it was a perfectly fresh +egg, and the only thing at all high about +it was the price.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p class="ind1"><span class="sc">From the Camp.</span>—Just now Riflemen are +Bis'ley engaged.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h3>A FALLEN ART.</h3> + +<p class="center1"> +[A "lady palmist" has been fined ten shillings +and costs for fortune-telling.—<i>Daily News.</i>] +</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>She lived, this prophetess, too late,</p> +<p>And plied an art that's out of date,</p> +<p>Another age had seen her gain</p> +<p>Her reputation not in vain,</p> +<p>Had seen a crowd respectful wait</p> +<p>Upon the arbiter of fate,</p> +<p>While kings and rulers brought her gold</p> +<p>To have futurity unrolled!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>In some Greek court where fountains play,</p> +<p>Or dwelling by the Appian way,</p> +<p>The prophetess would surely be</p> +<p>Besought by each Leuconoë,</p> +<p>And if for these she sometimes drew</p> +<p>A future pleasanter than true,</p> +<p>At least she gave them, you'll confess,</p> +<p>Anticipated happiness!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Ah! times are changed, and nowadays</p> +<p>Such divination hardly pays;</p> +<p>There comes no more the crowds that used,</p> +<p>The fees are terribly reduced!</p> +<p>And if our policemen caught the Sphinx</p> +<p>Propounding "Missing Words," one thinks</p> +<p>Our British justice could not fail</p> +<p>To send her speedily to gaol!</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p class="ind"><span class="sc">Impy and Garry.</span>—Colonel <span class="sc">Saunderson</span>, +"speaking as an Irishman" (did anyone ever +hear the gallant Colonel speak as an Englishman?), +didn't object to being classed among +his countrymen, whom Mr. BRODRICK had +styled "impecunious and garrulous." He +might have quoted the name of one of their +own national airs as emphasizing, by descriptively +<ins title="T.N.: Original reads 'abreviating'">abbreviating</ins>, these two epithets, namely, +"<i>Garryowen</i>." "<i>Garry</i>" is clearly the +short for "<i>garrulous</i>," and "<i>owen</i>" is the +oldest form of <i>"not payin'</i>."</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page26" id="page26"></a>[pg 26]</span> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"><h3 class="sans">A "TURKISH OCCUPATION;" OR, VISIONS IN SMOKE.</h3> +<p> +"The <span class="sc">Khedive</span> has been the object of numerous marks of personal friendship on the <span class="sc">Sultan's</span> part."</p> +<p class="author">—<i>Times Correspondent at Constantinople.</i></p> +<a href="images/026-1200.png"><img src="images/026a-420.png" width="420" height="489" alt="A 'TURKISH OCCUPATION;' OR, VISIONS IN SMOKE." /></a> +</div> + +<p><i>Sultan (amicably).</i> Welcome, dear <span class="sc">Abbas</span>! Take a seat, and a +pipe—take anything you have a mind to, and "make yourself at +home," as the accursed Giaours say.</p> + +<p><i>Khedive (squatting).</i> Thanks, my dear—Suzerain! Yildiz Kiosk +feels, indeed, very home-like. More than my own Cairo does—when +<span class="sc">Cromer's</span> there. This Nichan-i-Imtiaz Order is really very becoming. +Pity you and I, <span class="sc">Abdul</span>, have to take "orders" from anybody +west of Alexandria!</p> + +<p><i>Sultan (sotto voce).</i> And why <i>should</i> we?</p> + +<p><i>Khedive (sulkily).</i> Well, the sons of burnt fathers <i>have</i> got the +upper hand of the Faithful, somehow—confound them!</p> + +<p><i>Sultan (reading).</i> "Intelligence received here of late, from trustworthy +quarters in Egypt, indicates that the <span class="sc">Khedive's</span> journey is +to be made the point of departure for a <i>grande action diplomatique</i> +against British influence in the Valley of the Nile." That's from +the <i>Times</i>, my <span class="sc">Abbas</span>!</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page27" id="page27"></a>[pg 27]</span> + +<p><i>Khedive (moodily).</i> Humph! Wish the Egyptian +quarters <i>were</i> "trustworthy." <i>Grande action diplomatique?</i> +Quite makes one's mouth water!</p> + +<p><i>Sultan.</i> <i>Doesn't</i> it? The same infernal—but +influential—news-sheet says: "The young <span class="sc">Khedive</span> +knows that not only would he meet with a personally +kindly reception, but that the grievances he +is known to be anxious to pour out would fall on +ready ears." There, at least, the Giaour "rag" is +right. Pour away, my <span class="sc">Abbas</span>! "Keep your eye on +your father—or Suzerain—and he will pull you +through."</p> +<p class="rindent">[<i>Winks and whiffs.</i></p> + +<p><i>Khedive (whiffing and winking).</i> Will he, though? +And that Turkish Bodyguard?</p> + +<p><i>Sultan (warmly).</i> At your service at any +moment, my dear <span class="sc">Abbas</span>!</p> + +<p><i>Khedive (smoking furiously with closed eyes).</i> +Ah! if they would only let me alone, let me rule +my subjects in my own Oriental way—as you do +yours in Armenia, for example—then, indeed, I +could have a good time, and plenty of treasure.</p> + +<p><i>Sultan (significantly).</i> Out of which my little +formal trifle of Tribute might come easily and +<i>regularly</i>—eh, <span class="sc">Abbas</span>?</p> + +<p><i>Khedive.</i> Quite so, Padishah! Bah! These +brutal, blundering Britishers don't understand the +Art of Government as adapted to Eastern Ideas.</p> + +<p><i>Sultan (soothingly).</i> Well, never mind, <span class="sc">Abbas</span>. +We'll lay our heads together, anon, now you <i>are</i> +here, and—who knows? Meanwhile, let's enjoy +ourselves. Something like a "Turkish Occupation" +this—eh? And how do you like this Turkish +tobacco?</p> + +<p><i>Khedive (blowing vigorously).</i> Smokes easily, +and makes a big cloud. In which I fancy I can +see myself driving the British Lion out of the Nile +Valley at the point of the bayonet.</p> + +<p><i>Sultan (dreamily).</i> And I picture myself comfortably +replenishing my Treasury with that Tribute! +Like music, ABBAS?</p> + +<p><i>Khedive (uneasily).</i> Ye-e-e-s. Why!</p> + +<p><i>Sultan (promptly).</i> Then I'll tip you something +soothing.</p> +<p class="rindent">[<i>Sings.</i></p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>I'll sing thee songs of Arabi,</p> +<p class="i2">And tales of far Cash ne-ar!</p> +<p>Strange yarns to move thee to a smile,</p> +<p class="i2">Or melt thee to a te-ar!</p> +<p>And dreams of delight shall hover bright,</p> +<p class="i2">And smoke-born vi-i-sions rise</p> +<p>Of artful "fake," which well may wake</p> +<p class="i2">Wild wonder in thine eyes.</p> +<p class="i4">I'll move thee to a smile</p> +<p class="i4">With dreams of far Cash ne-e-e-e-ar!</p> + </div> </div> +<p class="rindent">[<i>Left dreaming.</i></p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"><a href="images/027-800.png"><img src="images/027a-400.png" width="400" height="492" alt="LACONIC." /></a> +<h3 class="sans">LACONIC.</h3> + +<p><i>Passenger.</i> "<span class="sc">Can you tell me what are the Times for these 'Busses to +leave the Swiss Cottage?</span>"</p> + +<p><i>Driver.</i> "Quarter after—'Arf after—Quarter to—and <i>At!</i>"</p></div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h3>A VISION OF ROYALTY.</h3> + +<h4>(<i>Written after a surfeit of the Illustrated Papers.</i>)</h4> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Ye Royalties of England, how beautiful ye are!</p> +<p>The special artists claim you, they track you from afar.</p> +<p>In uniforms and diamonds, with sceptre and with crown,</p> +<p>In many a picture-paper those artists set you down.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>And thus the British public may gaze upon its Queen—</p> +<p>They make her small, but dignified, of most majestic mien.</p> +<p>She smiles—the artist marks her; she frowns—the artist quails,</p> +<p>And soothes himself by drawing H.R.H. the Prince of <span class="sc">Wales</span>.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>He draws him at foundation stones, a trowel in his hand</p> +<p>(The point of silver trowels I ne'er could understand);</p> +<p>He draws him opening railways, or turning sods of grass,</p> +<p>And he draws him as a Colonel, in helmet and cuirasse.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>We see him dressed for London, a-riding in the Row—</p> +<p>I wonder if he ever finds his London pleasures slow;</p> +<p>And we see him down at Sandringham, his country-home in Norfolk,</p> +<p>Where the Royal pair are much beloved, especially by poor folk.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>And oft at public dinners, in Garter and in Star,</p> +<p>We see his Royal Highness enjoying his cigar.</p> +<p>I wish they wouldn't vary quite so much his Royal figure.</p> +<p>For they sometimes make him leaner, and sometimes make him bigger.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>But, be that as it may, I feel that, while my life endures,</p> +<p>I know by heart my Prince's face, my future King's contours.</p> +<p>A stiff examination in the Prince of <span class="sc">Wales</span> I'd pass,</p> +<p>And in all his princely attitudes they'd give me a first-class.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>The Duke of <span class="sc">York</span>, our Sailor Prince, I think I've got him pat;</p> +<p>I've never seen him face to face, but what's the odds of that?</p> +<p>In illustrated papers I have watched him every day</p> +<p>Since he went and popped the question to the pretty Princess <span class="sc">May</span>.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>I've seen them plain or coloured in fifty different styles,</p> +<p>Just like a pair of turtle-doves, all bills and coos and smiles.</p> +<p>I never saw a turtle-dove that smiled upon its pet afore,</p> +<p>But he who writes of bridal pairs is bound to use the metaphor.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Oh, Princess <span class="sc">May</span>, oh, Princess <span class="sc">May</span>, in crayon or in oil you</p> +<p>Are loveable and beautiful, they can't avail to spoil you.</p> +<p>They did their worst, and did it well, those special-artist wretches,</p> +<p>To make you like a stolid block in all their special sketches.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>So this, my meek petition, to those artists is addressed,</p> +<p>Give Royalties of every sort a little welcome rest.</p> +<p>I cannot bear my Royal ones—of loyalty I'm full—</p> +<p>To look like wax and sawdust, with limbs of cotton-wool.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>And thus, when next you draw them (oh, may the time be long)</p> +<p>To make them human beings will surely not be wrong.</p> +<p>And if you'll take a hint from me you'll earn a nation's thanks,</p> +<p>By drawing these prize princely ones a little less like blanks.</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p class="ind"><span class="sc">Lines in Pleasant Places.</span>—<i>Sala's Journal</i>, full of interesting +and entertaining matter, has lately been giving very sensible advice +as to Palmistry, which is again in vogue. The Palmists appear to +be doing so uncommonly well just now, that this year will be +memorable, for them at least, as "the Palmy days" of chiromancy.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page28" id="page28"></a>[pg 28]</span> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"><a href="images/028-600.png"><img src="images/028a-340.png" width="340" height="470" alt="ENGLISH AS SHE IS 'SCHPOGEN.'" /></a> +<h3 class="sans">ENGLISH AS SHE IS "SCHPOGEN."</h3> + +<p><i>Herr Dumpling (a "Deacher of Englisch" who has made the most of +his holiday during the Royal Marriage week).</i> "<span class="sc">Zertainly, I haf +zeen ze Vedding-brozess, ze Gween, and ze gliddering +Goaches, and ze Naidive Droobs; and in ze Evening neffer +haf I zeen so peudiful Gas-works! Bot, ach Himmel, how +vas I ofergrowded!</span>"</p></div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h2 class="sans">SEEING THE ROYAL WEDDING PRESENTS.</h2> + +<h4>(<i>A Sketch at the Imperial Institute</i>.)</h4> + +<p class="ind1"><span class="outdent"><span class="sc">Scene</span>—</span><i>The North Gallery on a Saturday afternoon, with the +thermometer at considerably over 80° in the shade. The presents +are arranged behind a long barrier, in front of which the Spectators +form a double "queue," the outer rank facing in the +opposite direction to the inner line, and both moving at an average +rate of one foot every five minutes.</i></p> + +<p><i>The Attendants (spasmodically).</i> Pass along there, please. Keep +moving!</p> + +<p class="ind1"><span class="outdent">[<i>The crowd close to the barrier</i></span> <i>either cannot or will not pay +the slightest attention to these injunctions, and remain +placidly gazing at whatever happens to be in front of them; +the people in the outside line, who can see just enough to +tantalise them, begin to exhibit signs of impatience.</i></p> + +<p><i>A Sour-looking Spinster.</i> Well, I'm sure! They <i>might</i> remember +there's others that would like to have a look besides themselves! +Some of them seem to have made up their minds to spend the whole +<i>day</i> here! (<i>With a withering glance at a stout lady in the inner +rank.</i>) How anyone can call herself a lady and spend fifteen minutes +downright gloating at nothing but cigarette cases—well, I should be +sorry to be so disobliging <i>myself</i>!</p> + +<p class="ind1"><span class="outdent">[<i>The stout lady,</i></span> <i>who has exhausted the cigarette cases long ago, +but can't move on until those in front of her have thoroughly +inspected the jewels, fans herself with a pocket-handkerchief, +and pretends not to have heard.</i></p> + +<p><i>A Cheery Old Lady (to her Grand-daughter).</i> Well, they <i>do</i> +make you wait, there's no denying—but we shall see everythink +some time or other. 'Ot, <span class="sc">Minnie</span>? Yes, it <i>is</i> 'ot, and they're +pushing in front as well as beyind, now; but lor, my dear, we +must put up with sech things when we come out like this. And +you can ketch a glimpse in and between like, as it is. I can see +the top of a Grandfather's Clock. It won't take us 'alf an hour +now, at the rate we're going, to git round the turn, and then we +shall be next the barrier, and 'ave a little more room. There, +they're beginning to move a bit. (<i>The line advances about a yard.</i>) +Now we're getting along beautiful!</p> + +<p><i>A Purple-faced Old Gentleman (in a perspiration).</i> It's scandalous! +These people inside aren't <i>attempting</i> to move along. (<i>To +the inner rank.</i>) Will you kindly pass on, and give others a +chance? <i>Do</i> pass along there! (<i>The people in the inner row maintain +a bland unconsciousness, which is too much for his feelings.</i>) +D—n it! why can't you pass along when you're asked to?</p> + +<p><i>The Usual Comic Cockney.</i> It's no good torkin' perlitely to 'em, +guv'nor; you touch some on 'em up with your umberella. Why, +there's two old ladies aside o' me that 'ave gone and 'ipnotised +theirselves starin' at silver kendlesticks!</p> + +<p><i>A Plaintive Female (to a smart young constable).</i> Oh, Mr. Policeman, +<i>do</i> make 'em 'urry up there!</p> + +<p class="ind1"><span class="outdent">[<i>The constable prudently</i></span> <i>declines to attempt the impossible, and +merely smiles with pitying superiority.</i></p> + +<p><i>Mrs. Lavender Salt (who has insisted on her husband escorting +her).</i> <span class="sc">Lavender</span>, what a frightful crush! I don't believe we've +moved for the last twenty minutes, and I'm nearly dead with the +heat!</p> + +<p><i>Mr. L. S. (with irritating common sense).</i> Well, <span class="sc">Mimosa</span>, you +don't suppose <i>I'm</i> enjoying myself? After all, if you don't like the +crush, the remedy's simple. You've only to step out of it into the +grounds, you know—there is some air <i>there</i>!</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. L. S.</i> What? and give up our places after going through +so much? No, <span class="sc">Lavender</span>, it would be too absurd to have to go +away without seeing the Royal Presents after all!</p> + +<p><i>Mr. L. S.</i> But is it worth all this pushing and squeezing? Why, +you can see much the same sort of thing any day in perfect comfort +by simply walking down Bond Street!</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. L. S.</i> You wouldn't say so if you had the least scrap of imagination! +It isn't the things themselves one comes to see—it's the +sentiment <i>attached</i> to them!</p> + +<p><i>Mr. L. S.</i> Oh, is <i>that</i> it? Well, I can make out the upper part +of a weighing machine over your shoulder, but I can't say I discover +any particular sentiment attached to <i>that</i>.</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. L. S. (impatiently).</i> Oh, if you choose to sneer at <i>everything</i>, +of course you can, but it's looking at things like these that +makes us the loyal nation we are, <span class="sc">Lavender</span>!</p> + +<p><i>Mr. L. S.</i> My dear <span class="sc">Mimosa</span>, I give you my solemn word that if +I remain opposite those Chippendale bookcases ten minutes longer I +shall become a gibbering anarchist! Surely we can be loyal without +such a painful resemblance to a box of dried figs.</p> + +<p class="ind1"><span class="outdent">[Mrs. L. S. <i>shudders at these</i></span> <i>revolutionary sentiments</i>.</p> + +<p><i>A New Comer (arriving with a friend, and craning curiously over +the shoulders of the spectators</i> in posse, <i>to their intense indignation</i>). +'Ere they are, <span class="sc">Joe</span>. I can see a lot o' silver inkstands. We'll get +a view if we shove in 'ere.</p> + +<p class="ind1"><span class="outdent">[<i>He attempts to edge</i></span> <i>through the double rank.</i></p> + +<p><i>The Purple-faced Old Gentleman.</i> I protest against your pushing +in here, Sir. We're hot enough already without that. It's +monstrously unfair!</p> + +<p><i>The New Comer.</i> I s'pose I've got as much right to see the +bloomin' Presents as what <i>you</i> 'ave?</p> + +<p><i>The P.-f. O. G.</i> You've no right to push in out of your turn, +Sir. You must take your proper place down at the end of the <i>queue</i> +and wait, like everybody else.</p> + +<p><i>The New Comer.</i> What, all the way down there, and 'ow long +might I have to wait, now?</p> + +<p><i>The P.-f. O. G. (with tremendous dignity).</i> That I can't say, Sir. I +can only tell you this—that I have been standing here myself for +over three-quarters of an hour without advancing ten yards or seeing +anything distinctly, and so have all these ladies and gentlemen.</p> + +<p><i>The New Comer.</i> Hor, hor, hor! D'jear that, <span class="sc">Joe</span>? Ten yards +in three-quarters of an hour! What price snails, eh? Well, Sir, +if that's <i>your</i> ideer of amusin' yourself on a warm afternoon, it ain't +mine, so you'll excuse me and my friend 'ere joinin' your little +percession. Don't lose 'art, Sir, keep on at it. You'll <i>git</i> there +afore bedtime if you don't overexert yourselves. Take it easy now!</p> + +<p class="ind1"><span class="outdent">[<i>They pass on with ribald laughter,</i></span> <i>to the general relief. +Eventually, after infinite delay and maddening exhortations +to "keep moving," the outer queue succeed to the barrier +and to the unpopularity enjoyed by their predecessors.</i></p> + +<h4><span class="sc">Along the Barrier.</span></h4> + +<p>Now we shan't be <i>nearly</i> so squeeged, <span class="sc">Minnie</span>! There's nothing +partickler to look at just yet, except kerridges.... It's not the +smallest use telling us to hurry, my good woman, because we can't +move till those in front choose to go on.... Look at the 'arness, +<span class="sc">Minnie</span>—pretty 'arness, ain't it? with their crest on it and all!... +Well, I call it shabby givin' 'em a kerridge without even so much +as a old moke to dror it. I'd ha' done it 'ansome, or not at all.... +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page29" id="page29"></a>[pg 29]</span> +Lor, look at the dust on all the +furniture—it <i>will</i> want cleanin' +up!... That's a beautiful gong, +<span class="sc">Minnie</span>; see, that's the thing +they 'it it with.... Ain't that +a comfortable looking chair in +red moroccer? That'll be for +the 'all porter to set in, I expect—there's +a 'at in it. Lor no, +my dear, it 'ud ha' been a better +lookin' 'at than what that is, if +it was one of the presents, depend +on it! There's a weighin' machine.... +Fancy goin' and +givin' them a thing like that! +Oh, I expect it's for them to +weigh theirselves with. Ah, +'ere come the <i>Jewels</i> now. Now +we <i>shall</i> see somethink!... I +don't see <i>our</i> present yet, do you, +<span class="sc">'Arriet</span>? There's old Uncle +<span class="sc">Bill's</span>. See, that dimond and +pearl necklace. Well, if they +ain't gone and put it down as +"Persented by six 'undred and +fifty ladies of England!" And +the old man savin' up his screw +for weeks for it—he <i>will</i> be 'urt +when he 'ears of it! Some +bloke's gone and given 'em a +pillar-post box. I thought of +sendin' the one at our corner, +on'y it wouldn't come out easy: +and what with the copper bein' +on his beat—why, I decided I'd +give 'em somethink else.... +Walking-sticks? Why, he +wouldn't want more if he was a—a +centipede!... I wonder +where they'll <i>put</i> all the things, +I'm sure! 'Ullo, a pearl and +dimond tiarer, made o' cardboard. +I 'ope they thanked 'im +nicely for <i>that</i>! Why, that's +on'y a model, like. Well, and +a very good model, too, what +I call eckernomical.... Look +at those <i>lovely</i> toast-racks!... +<span class="sc">Lavender</span>, what a magnificent +old mirror!—Elizabethan, I expect. +I wonder who gave <i>that?</i>... +Oh, me and <span class="sc">'Arriet</span> give +'er <i>that</i>, mum.... Oh, dear, I +wish I was them, to have all +these presents.... Why, my +dear, it doesn't matter to <i>them</i>—they +have everything lovely as it is!... <span class="sc">'Arriet</span>, when +you and me git married, we'll 'ave a show of all <i>our</i> presents—not +'ere, there won't be no room. We'll take the Agricultural +'All, and have a catalogue and everythink. "Set of Elizabethian +sheep's trotters, from the Hearl of <span class="sc">Alamode</span>." eh? "Pound of +Queen Anne saveloys, from the Markis o' <span class="sc">Mile-end</span>." "Yard +o' flypaper, from the Dook o' <span class="sc">Shoreditch</span>." "Packet of 'airpins, +persented by seven 'underd lydies of Whitechapel." "Donkey-barrer +an' kerridge-rug, from the residents in the Ole Kent Road." +Etceterer ... I do wish you wouldn't go on so foolish! Why, +if someone hain't sent her a set o' straw soles to keep her shoes +dry—what <i>next</i>, I wonder!... And a very sensible thing too.... Well, my dear, +I'm sure nothing can't be too good for her, +and they've certainly been set up with every blessing a young couple +can require—and may they live long to enjoy them!</p> + +<p class="author">[<i>And so says Mr. Punch.</i></p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"><a href="images/029-800.png"><img src="images/029a-340.png" width="340" height="489" alt="A SLAVE TO COURTESY." /></a> +<h3 class="sans">A SLAVE TO COURTESY.</h3> + +<p><i>He.</i> "<span class="sc">Do you mind stoppin' a bit now. I get rather giddy, +don'tcherknow.</span>"</p> + +<p><i>She.</i> "<span class="sc">But if you get Giddy, why do you come to Dances?</span>"</p> + +<p><i>He.</i> "<span class="sc">Well, I'm a Bachelor and that sort of thing, and +it's the only way I can see of repayin' Hospitality.</span>"</p></div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h4>Parliamentary Declension.</h4> + +<p class="ind1"><i>Nominative</i>—M.P. "named." <i>Genitive</i>—M.P. in possession of +the House. <i>Dative</i>—Giving it hot to M.P. <i>Accusative</i>—Charge +against M.P. <i>Vocative</i>—"O! O!" and (pro-vocative cries). +<i>Ablative</i>—M.P. is removed in custody of Serjeant-at-Arms.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p class="ind1">The subject of conversation in the presence of Mrs. R. was the +Darlington magistrates' decision in the palmistry case. "Yet," +remarked our old friend, thoughtfully, "palmistry is very ancient, +and practised professionally by most excellent and good people. +Isn't <span class="sc">David</span> always spoken of as 'The Palmist'?"</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h3>THE SONG OF THE SHOPKEEPER.</h3> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Will the Season be long?</p> +<p class="i2">Will the Season be short?</p> +<p>Parliament's going strong!</p> +<p class="i2">Plenty of stir at Court!</p> +<p>Cholera rumours abroad,</p> +<p class="i2">Summer weather at home,</p> +<p>Us a chance may afford;</p> +<p class="i2">I only hope it may come!</p> +<p>Royal Marriage over!</p> +<p class="i2">Money remarkably "tight"!</p> +<p>Landlords <i>may</i> live in clover.</p> +<p class="i2">Shopkeepers' pull seems slight.</p> +<p>Will some of our Oracles clever</p> +<p class="i2">Tell a poor chap what he axes?</p> +<p>For three things go on for ever,</p> +<p class="i2">And those are Rents, Rates, and Taxes!</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h3>THE VOLUNTEERS' VADE MECUM.</h3> + +<h4>(<i>For the Centre Weeks of July.</i>)</h4> + +<ul class="none"> + +<li><i>Question.</i> Do you prefer Bisley +to Wimbledon?</li> + +<li><i>Answer.</i> Officially, yes; as a +civilian, no.</li> + +<li><i>Q.</i> Why do you make the +distinction?</li> + +<li><i>A.</i> Because I go to Bisley in +a double capacity.</li> + +<li><i>Q.</i> Why do you prefer Bisley +to Wimbledon officially?</li> + +<li><i>A.</i> Because there are no distractions, +and the ranges are +less subject to atmospheric interruption.</li> + +<li><i>Q.</i> Why do you prefer Wimbledon +to Bisley as a civilian?</li> + +<li><i>A.</i> Because Wimbledon was +an extremely cheery place, +where you could entertain your +friends to your heart's content, +and have a generally good time +of it.</li> + +<li><i>Q.</i> Can you not obtain the +same advantages at Bisley?</li> + +<li><i>A.</i> Certainly not. You are +in the neighbourhood of Woking +Cemetery, and that melancholy +spot influences its surroundings.</li> + +<li><i>Q.</i> But were you not always +regretting the attractions of Wimbledon when you were in +Surrey?</li> + +<li><i>A.</i> Certainly, because they lured me from work.</li> + +<li><i>Q.</i> Do you still regret them?</li> + +<li><i>A.</i> More than ever, because they were certainly pleasanter than +the attractions of Bisley.</li> + +<li><i>Q.</i> And now, in conclusion, what do you think of this year's +shooting?</li> + +<li><i>A.</i> The same as former years.</li> + +<li><i>Q.</i> What do you mean by that?</li> + +<li><i>A.</i> That those who win owe their good shots to flukes, and those +who fail have to thank their rifles, and the state of the weather.</li> +</ul> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p class="ind1">"<span class="sc">So Like Them!</span>"—Of all the numerous "memorials" of the +Royal Wedding, Count <span class="sc">Walery's</span> "Wedding Number of Photographic +Portraits" takes the wedding cake. It is priced at three shillings and +sixpence, and for this you get one English sovereign and "royalties." +If this isn't good value for money we don't know what is.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p class="ind1"><span class="sc">The Skirt-Dancer, or Unlimited Loie-ability.</span>—When a +theatre is doing "good business," and is crammed in every part, +placards are exhibited, announcing "Pit Full, Stalls Full, Boxes +Full," &c., &c. But at the Gaiety just now, where Miss <span class="sc">Loie Fuller</span> +is appearing, the management might simply put up outside +the simple statement of fact—"<span class="sc">Fuller Every Evening!</span>"</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p class="ind1"><span class="sc">The Eclipse Riddle.</span>—Why didn't <i>La Flèche</i> win the Eclipse +Stakes?—Because she wanted to keep out of <i>Orme's</i> way.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page30" id="page30"></a>[pg 30]</span> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"><a href="images/030-1500.png"><img src="images/030a-600.png" width="600" height="395" alt="THINGS ONE WOULD RATHER HAVE EXPRESSED DIFFERENTLY." /></a> +<h3 class="sans">THINGS ONE WOULD RATHER HAVE EXPRESSED DIFFERENTLY.</h3> + +<p><i>Sir Pompey (so much in earnest that he forgets his Grammar).</i> +"<span class="sc">Well, all I can say is this, that what I give in Charity is Nothing to Nobody!</span>"</p></div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h2>MRS. NICKLEBY IN THE CHAIR.</h2> + +<h4><i>A Song of Sympathetic Suggestion.</i></h4> + +<blockquote><p> +["Poor Mrs. <span class="sc">Nickleby</span>, who had at no time been +remarkable for the possession of a very clear +understanding, had been reduced by the late +changes in affairs to a most complicated state of +perplexity....</p> + +<p>"'I don't know what to think, one way or +other, my dear,' said Mrs. <span class="sc">Nickleby</span>; '<span class="sc">Nicholas</span> +is so violent, and your uncle has so much composure, +that I can only hear what he says, and not +what <span class="sc">Nicholas</span> does. Never mind—don't let us +talk any more about it.'...</p> + +<p>"Now Mrs. <span class="sc">Nickleby</span> was not the sort of +person to be told anything in a hurry, or rather to +comprehend anything of peculiar delicacy or importance +on a short notice....</p> + +<p>"'Anybody who had come in upon us suddenly +would have supposed that I was confusing and +distracting, instead of making things plainer; +upon my word they would.'...</p> + +<p>"'I am very sorry indeed,' said Mrs. <span class="sc">Nickleby</span>. +'I am very sorry indeed for all this. I really +don't know what would be the best to do, and +that's the truth;... but if it could be settled in +any friendly manner—and some fair arrangement +was come to, so that we undertook to have fish +twice a week, and a pudding once, or a dumpling, +or something of that sort, I do think it might be +very satisfactory and pleasant for all parties.'</p> + +<p>"This compromise, which was proposed with +abundance of tears and sighs, not exactly meeting +the point at issue, nobody took any notice of it."</p> + +<p class="author"><i>Dickens's "Nicholas Nickleby.</i>"] +</p></blockquote> + +<h4><span class="sc">Air</span>—"<ins title="From: 'Lays and Lyrics': Nickledy Nod. (After Punch)"><i>Nickledy Nod.</i></ins>"</h4> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Oh! where are we next to be carried,</p> +<p class="i2">My own dear <span class="sc">Nickleby Nod</span>?</p> +<p>We're worried, and hurried, and harried!</p> +<p class="i2">In pickle has <i>no one</i> a rod?</p> +<p>Obstruction's becoming a bore;</p> +<p class="i2">We're victims of boor, clown, and cad.</p> +<p>It seems of our "noble six hundred"</p> +<p class="i2">A solid majority's mad!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="sc">Dickens</span> was surely prophetic,</p> +<p class="i2">My own dear <span class="sc">Nickleby Nod</span>!</p> +<p>The plight of yourself is pathetic,</p> +<p class="i2">The state of the House appears odd.</p> +<p><i>Can't</i> we live quiet and decent?</p> +<p class="i2">The shindy makes common sense sad:</p> +<p>It seems from occurrences recent</p> +<p class="i2">The mass of the House <i>must</i> be mad!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Whom should we ask to protect us,</p> +<p class="i2">My own dear <span class="sc">Nickleby Nod</span>?</p> +<p>A rowdy rot seems to infect us</p> +<p class="i2">And Nemesis looks leaden-shod.</p> +<p>Shouldn't we look to the Chair</p> +<p class="i2">To save us from garrulous fad,</p> +<p>When row-de-dow fills all the air,</p> +<p class="i2">And the bulk of the House is gone mad?</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Cynics may find it amusing,</p> +<p class="i2">My own dear <span class="sc">Nickleby Nod</span>,</p> +<p>This venomous mutual abusing.</p> +<p class="i2">Thersites seems ranked as a god.</p> +<p>Billingsgate sways our big swells,</p> +<p class="i2">Talent plays Brummagem Cad.</p> +<p>'Tis worse than Sarcasm of Sadler's Wells.</p> +<p class="i2">You're mild—and your House is mad!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>More is to come in the Autumn,</p> +<p class="i2">My own poor <span class="sc">Nickleby Nod</span>!</p> +<p>We trust by that time you'll have taught 'em</p> +<p class="i2">Some decency—e'en by the rod.</p> +<p>"Not say any more about it?"</p> +<p class="i2"><i>That</i> will scarce answer, my lad!</p> +<p>Patience <i>may</i> soothe, but I doubt it</p> +<p class="i2">Much—when the culprits are mad!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"Settled in some friendly manner?"</p> +<p class="i2">My own poor <span class="sc">Nickleby Nod</span>,</p> +<p><span class="sc">Chamberlain</span>, <span class="sc">Sexton</span>, and <span class="sc">Tanner</span></p> +<p class="i2">(Say) as "fair friends" would look odd.</p> +<p><span class="sc">Gladstone</span>, and <span class="sc">Balfour</span>, and <span class="sc">Saunderson</span>,</p> +<p class="i2"><i>Might</i> keep the peace, and be glad;</p> +<p>But while malignity maunders on</p> +<p class="i2"><span class="sc">Nickleby</span> policy's—mad!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"Some fair arrangement?"—<i>with <span class="sc">Russell?</span></i></p> +<p class="i2">My own poor <span class="sc">Nickleby Nod</span>,</p> +<p>Hark how they howl, shriek, and hustle!</p> +<p class="i2">Nay; you must whip out the rod.</p> +<p>Wish you had brought it forth sooner.</p> +<p class="i2"><span class="sc">Nickleby</span> <i>rôle</i>, my dear lad,</p> +<p>Of mild, muddled, well-meaning mooner,</p> +<p class="i2">Won't work—with a House gone <i>mad</i>!</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p class="ind"><span class="sc">News from Uganda.</span>—"A conference," +so the <i>Times</i> special lately wrote, "took +place between Bishop <span class="sc">Tucker</span> and Monseigneur +<span class="sc">Hirth</span>," with a view to amicably +arranging their respective missions. Monseigneur +<span class="sc">Hirth</span> wished to sing the old nigger +melody of "<i>Out ob de way ole Dan Tucker</i>." +Imperial Commissioner objected. Bishop +<span class="sc">Tucker</span>, lineal descendant of the celebrated +little <i>Thomas</i> who "cried for his +supper," wanted to have all the black and +white bread to himself according to the +ancient nursery tradition of the <span class="sc">Tucker</span> +family. Commissioner, quite a <span class="sc">Gallio</span> in +his way, wouldn't hear of it. Ultimately +the two ecclesiastical antagonists came to +terms, the Commissioner (Our Own) wisely +observing that "as the object of both missions +was a spiritual one, there ought to be +no Hirthly ground for disagreement."</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page31" id="page31"></a>[pg 31]</span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"><a href="images/031-1000.png"><img src="images/031a-380.png" width="380" height="492" alt="MRS. NICKLEBY IN THE CHAIR." /></a> +<h2>MRS. NICKLEBY IN THE CHAIR.</h2></div> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page32" id="page32"></a>[pg 32]</span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page33" id="page33"></a>[pg 33]</span> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h3 class="sans">LAYS OF MODERN HOME.</h3> + +<h4>THE FIRST COOK!</h4> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Oh! the first Cook, in that ambrosial, unwithering</p> +<p class="i2">Halcyon, rapturous, and honeymooning prime!—</p> +<p>She, who, aware of <span class="sc">Helen's</span> babyish and blithering</p> +<p class="i2">Innocence, did a lot of mischief in her time.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Oh! for her soup, a weird, insuperable fearfulness,</p> +<p class="i2">Compound of arrowroot, and gelatine, and lard;</p> +<p>Hard, to reject it, when a bride besought, with tearfulness,</p> +<p class="i2">Hard, to accept, and to assimilate it, hard!</p> + </div></div> + + <div class="figleft" style="width: 200px; margin-left: 10%"><a href="images/033-600.png"><img src="images/033a-180.png" width="180" height="232" alt="The First Cook." /></a></div> + + <div class="poem1"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Oh! for her leather-like, her nauseating omelette,</p> +<p class="i2">Oh! for her cutlets and potatoes black as ink!</p> +<p>Oft, of necessity, would I the Buttons, <span class="sc">Tommy</span>, let</p> +<p class="i2">Batten on luxuries that bothered him, I think.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>And she would mingle, would that woman who did <i>that</i> to me,</p> +<p class="i2">Proofs incontestable with everything I ate,</p> +<p>Whereby the veriest beginner of anatomy</p> +<p class="i2">Knew that she must be in complexion a <i>brunette</i>.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Wild were her sauces, like herself, devoid of reasoning;</p> +<p class="i2">Still I have never been indubitably clear,</p> +<p><i>Why</i> the invariable factor in her seasoning</p> +<p class="i2">Always reminded me so forcibly of Beer.</p> + </div></div> + <div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Why, when my darling sighed, "The weekly books are ready, <span class="sc">Ted</span>,"</p> +<p class="i2">And I rejoined that <i>we</i> were thin while <i>they</i> were fat,—</p> +<p>Why, their increasing superfluities were credited</p> +<p class="i2">All to a manifestly unoffending cat.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Why, when a joint of whatsoever solid vastiness</p> +<p class="i2">Quitted the dining-room, it never came again;</p> +<p>Why my allusions to her culinary nastiness</p> +<p class="i2">Only encouraged her, it beats me to explain.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>True, for our wages, which <ins title="T.N.: Original reads 'where'">were</ins> somewhere near the "Twenty-ones,"</p> +<p class="i2">Great expectations would have been a trifle rash.</p> +<p>Still, as her perquisites, I know, were cent.-per-cent.-y ones,</p> +<p class="i2">Ah! how I wish a <i>Chef</i> had fed us for the cash!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Oh! my first Cook! A gem with so much rare and rich in her,</p> +<p class="i2">Irreconcileable, impenetrable soul,</p> +<p>How I exulted when she fell against the kitchener,</p> +<p class="i2">Urged by a Nemesis (and legs) beyond control.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>How, when my fluttered pet, believing her immaculate,</p> +<p class="i2">Hied to her aid, and heard, "<i>You ain't a Lady, Mum!</i>"</p> +<p>How I was forced to rather brutally ejaculate,</p> +<p class="i2">"Rum! Very rum!—you see the cause of it is '<i>rum</i>.'"</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Oh! that first year of married paradise! My attitude</p> +<p class="i2">Somehow, my sweet, on this our second Wedding-day,</p> +<p>Needs must be one of unadulterated gratitude,</p> +<p class="i2">Since we survive the Cook, you wept to send away!</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p class="ind">"<span class="sc">Has Left but the Name.</span>"—The intention of the original +starters of the Aquarium was presumably to exhibit fish of all sorts, +all alive oh! and quite at home. Nowadays, very little about fish +is to be found in the advertisements. The fish are, it may be +supposed, "taken for granted." They are conspicuous by their +absence; but instead you read how "a human being dives," how +somebody conjures, how there are "miraculous feats," and "four-legged +dancers," and "baby elephants" waltzing and drum-playing; +how somebody of some importance "walks upside down in mid-air;" +how there are "serpentine" dancers, "pantomimists," "duettists," +and, finally, the "boxing kangaroo," so that altogether the +Aquarium may still congratulate itself on a show of about the +"queerest, oddest fish" in the world.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h3>WHAT'S IN A NAME?</h3> + +<blockquote><p class="center"> +["At the World's Fair, in Chicago, the other day, the Rev. <span class="sc">John Jameson</span>,<br /> +of Virginia, smashed a stand containing an exhibit of Irish Whiskey."] +</p></blockquote> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>What's this? Am I dreaming? I fancy I am:</p> +<p>But no—it is printed without any flam.</p> +<p>"The Reverend gentleman stood by the stand,</p> +<p>With a hickory cudgel upraised in his hand.</p> +<p>Then, with fury and fire in his clerical eye,</p> +<p>This temperate priest on the bottles let fly."</p> +<p>Oh, the waste of good liquor; to think there should be</p> +<p>A man who with whiskey would dare to make free;</p> +<p>And to think—which but adds to the sin and the shame—</p> +<p>That the spoiler of whiskey should own such a name.</p> +<p>One might sooner expect that some learned Q. C.</p> +<p>Should abjure what he lives by, and welcomes—a fee;</p> +<p>That a judge should break laws, or a gaoler break chains,</p> +<p>Or a "guinea-pig" turn in disgust from his gains;</p> +<p>That a bookie should preach, or a bishop should bet,</p> +<p>That a slave of the Season should break etiquette;</p> +<p>A landlord proclaim his dislike of his rent,</p> +<p>Sleek <span class="sc">Moses</span> protest against eighty per cent;</p> +<p>That a priest should cast doubts on a stole or a cope,</p> +<p>Or <span class="sc">Pe*rs</span> hint a fault in the worth of his soap.</p> +<p>Such sights would be strange, but they cannot compare</p> +<p>With the sight that was seen t'other day at the Fair,</p> +<p>When <span class="sc">John Jameson</span> smashed (or the newspapers fib it)</p> +<p>With his hickory cudgel a whiskey-exhibit.</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h3>THE LATEST PARISIAN "ROMANCE."</h3> + +<h4>(<i>Translated from the original French Canard.</i>)</h4> + +<p>THEY were hunting him down. They had traced him from spot +to spot. Now he was in the barracks bribing the Army, now in the +Ministerial Bureau offering gold to the Members of the Government, +now in the office of the leading newspaper arranging for back +pages in advertisements at double the scale price. His pernicious +influence was felt everywhere. The whole body was permeated with +a poisonous atmosphere of corruption.</p> + +<p>"We shall have him now," said the first detective, as he looked +to the lock of his revolver.</p> + +<p>"No doubt about it," returned the other, as he loosed his sword +in its scabbard. "He cannot escape us."</p> + +<p>Then the force of cavalry, infantry and artillery in attendance +raised a stealthy cheer. It had been difficult to bring the charges +home to the accused, but they had succeeded. It seemed impossible +to prove his identity, but now they had surrounded him. It was +only a question of a few minutes, and he would be their prisoner.</p> + +<p>The detectives entered the <i>café</i>. They looked around them. They +could see no one answering to his description. All who were there +had black beards, black shaggy hair. They could see no red tresses, +no yellow Dundreary whiskers and prominent front teeth. Where +could he be?</p> + +<p>"Yes, there is one diner who has ordered a singular meal," replied +a <i>garçon</i>, in reply to a question. "He has asked for turtle-soup, +raw herrings, raw beef, raw mutton chops, plum-pudding and a +barrel of porter-beer."</p> + +<p>"It must be he," cried the detectives, in a breath; "only an +Englishman would want such a meal."</p> + +<p>"And he asked for the <i>Times</i> and <i>Punch</i>," added the waiter.</p> + +<p>"Proof conclusive of nationality;" and in a moment the man was +surrounded and seized.</p> + +<p>"You dare not touch me," he shouted, battling with his captors. +"I am sacred, and if you offer violence you pledge your country to +a terrible war!"</p> + +<p>Impressed by the stranger's vehemence, the detectives released him. +Once free, he threw off his black wig, took off his false nose, and put +on his blue spectacles. Then he gazed around him proudly.</p> + +<p>"We ask your pardon, M. l'Ambassadeur," said the police.</p> + +<p>"It is granted," returned their now-released prisoner, and he +entered his carriage. "I would have preferred to preserve my <i>incognito</i>, +but your interference has compelled me to reveal my identity. And +now, home."</p> + +<p>And the coachman drove the Ambassador to a grand mansion in the +Rue Faubourg St. Honoré.</p> + +<h4><span class="sc">Sequel</span> (<i>from the original English</i>).</h4> + +<p>And when the Ambassador read the above, he came back to his +native land, and observed, "I think I have had enough of this."</p> + +<p>And everyone at home agreed with him.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p class="ind1"><span class="sc">By Our Out-and-Out-every-Evening Man.</span>—<i>Mem.</i> The only +endurable "Squash" in this hot weather is "Lemon Squash."</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page34" id="page34"></a>[pg 34]</span> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h2>QUEER ENGLISH.</h2> + +<p>We are delighted—everyone is +delighted, and that is much the +same thing—to know that Mrs. +<span class="sc">Bancroft</span> is by this time on the +high road to recovery from the +effects of what might have been a +serious accident. The "inimitable" +was in a Hansom, when +the horse suddenly fell. Had +Mrs. <span class="sc">Bancroft</span> been only +what is professionally known +as "A Walking Lady," this +could not have happened. The +<i>Daily Telegraph's</i> account of it +informed us that "Mr. <span class="sc">Blakeley</span>, +now of the Criterion Theatre, +and once a member of Mr. and +Mrs. <span class="sc">Bancroft's</span> own company, +who was happily passing immediately +after the occurrence, was +the means of having the lady +taken to her private residence." +Mr. <span class="sc">Blakeley</span> is always "happy" +in any part he undertakes, <ins title="T.N.:'he touched nothing without embellishing it'"><i>nihil +tetigit quod non ornavit</i></ins>, and no +doubt he was "happily passing," +perhaps gaily whistling, lightly +stepping, merrily twirling a stick, +and walking along "thinking of +nothing at all," when he became +aware of the danger to the popular +ex-manageress, which at once +changed his note from a tenner to +an alto: in fact alto-gether altered +it. [The above comment would +have been impossible had the +reporter stated that, "Happily +for Mrs. <span class="sc">Bancroft</span>, Mr. <span class="sc">Blakeley</span>, +&c., &c., was passing at the +moment, and, &c., &c."]</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p class="ind1">"<span class="sc">Ben Trovato!</span>"—Yes, found +at last; this Ben is Mr. <span class="sc">Ben +Davies</span>, who sang five songs before +the <span class="sc">Queen</span>, that is—to avoid all +appearance of rudeness—in Her +Gracious Majesty's presence, one +day last week. He is now "Big +Ben Trovato-re" in chief, and +long may he remain so.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p class="ind1"><span class="sc">A Proper Name.</span>—That peculiar +but not uncommon ornithological +species known as "Gaol-birds" +ought to be kept in a <i>Knave-iary</i>.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"><a href="images/034-700.png"><img src="images/034a-300.png" width="300" height="488" alt="TOO CONSCIENTIOUS BY HALF." /></a> +<h3 class="sans">TOO CONSCIENTIOUS BY HALF.</h3> + +<p>"<span class="sc">Is that enough, Sir?</span>"</p> + +<p>"<span class="sc">Yes; that'll do very well. And now shave me, please.</span>"</p> + +<p>"<span class="sc">I ought to mention that Shaving is Threepence extra, +Sir. Do you really think it's worth while?</span>"</p></div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h3>FROM PROFESSOR MUDDLE.</h3> + +<p class="ind1"><span class="sc">Dear Mr. Punch</span>,—Your poet +(in this week's issue) reminds me +of my own unfortunate experience. +Ever since I read that inspired +work, <i>Alice in Blunderland</i>, I +do not seem to be able to give +a correct version of any of the +poems I have long been accustomed +to repeat or sing. After +dinner the other night I was +asked to sing, and gave a well-known +song as follows:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Think of me only with thy nose,</p> +<p class="i2">No words need then be said;</p> +<p>Or kiss me sweetly with thine ears,</p> +<p class="i2">No lips are half so red.</p> +<p>The thirst that in my body burns</p> +<p class="i2">Demands both food and wine,</p> +<p>So when I next shall call on thee</p> +<p class="i2">You'll know I've come to dine.</p> +<p>Thou sent'st me late a rose-bud fair,</p> +<p class="i2">Not so much honouring me</p> +<p>As hoping near my heart I'd wear</p> +<p class="i2">It all for love of thee.</p> +<p>But I returned it through the post—</p> +<p class="i2">Forgive me, if you can—</p> +<p>Since when I trow thou hast found out</p> +<p class="i2">I'm not a marrying man.</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p class="ind1"><span class="sc">De Trop.</span>—The last item of +the <i>menu</i>, as given in the <i>World</i>, +of the Royal Wedding Breakfast, +after the sweets, was named in +plain English,—all the previous +dishes being given in French,—"cold +roast fowls." But how on +earth after four courses and +sweets, finishing with "<i>Pâtisserie +assortie</i>," could anyone have the +conscience—we put it in this way—to +ask for and to eat any portion +of "cold roast fowls"?</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p class="ind1">"<span class="sc">This is a Goak.</span>"—The +<i>Weekly Register</i>, recording the +event of a Baronetcy being conferred +on the present <span class="sc">Lord Mayor</span>, +remarks, "With him we know +the honour will be no <i>barren</i> one." +Very good, <i>W. R.</i> The italics +are ours, just to emphasize the +pun.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h2 class="sans">ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.</h2> + +<h4>EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M.P.</h4> + +<p><i>House of Commons, Monday, July 10.</i>—Glad the sitting's over; +often get a little mixed here; never so magnificently as to-night. +Reached 9th Clause Home-Rule Bill, which settles question of Irish +Representation in Imperial Parliament. When Mr. G. brought in +his Bill in 1886, he proposed to exclude Irish Members. Remember +very well the cheer that filled the Chamber when that announcement +made on introduction of Bill. Those were, as <span class="sc">Pat O'Brien</span> used to +say, "the days of all-night sittings." Irish Members stood in bitter +implacable attitude of obstruction. At prospect of clearing them out, +giving Great Britain some peace in its own Parliament, the hearts +of Members leaped for joy. Seemed at moment as if this bribe would +be enough to carry the Bill.</p> + +<p>Then came time for reflection; chance of reviewing opportunities. +<span class="sc">Joseph's</span> rapid insight perceived in this arrangement a stab at the +Union. In phrase which <span class="sc">Squire of Malwood</span> to-night obligingly +recalled he had written, "The key of the position is the maintenance +of the full representation of Ireland in the Imperial Parliament."</p> + +<p>Mr. G., profiting by experience, proposes in present Bill to maintain +Irish representation in slightly modified number. That would +seem to cut ground from under <span class="sc">Joseph's</span> clinging feet. What he +passionately, persistently demanded in 1886, is conceded in 1893. If +he cannot abear other provisions of the Bill, he must surely defend +the one that retains Irish Members at Westminster. Must he, +indeed? Those who think so, know not <span class="sc">Joseph</span>. For some men the +fence might seem a hopelessly stiff one. <span class="sc">Joseph</span> takes it as an +ordinary item in the day's work. No apology; no retraction; no +explanation. Black was black in 1886. He, at risk of severing +long friendships, said so, and was right. In 1893 black is white. He, +anxious only for the prevalence of truth, says so, and is right again.</p> + +<p>This would have been pretty picture for a July night; but anyone +could have drawn it. In House of Commons it's as common as +pastels on the pavement. <span class="sc">Joseph</span> went the step further that marks +the wide gulf between genius and mediocrity. Having declared +that in 1893 he, impelled by irresistible conscience and unfathomable +love for his country, would vote against what in 1886 he (subject to +same influence) described as the key of the position, <span class="sc">Joey C.</span> turned +upon his right hon. friends on the Treasury Bench, and with manly +emotion that brought tears to the eyes of the Member for Sark, +deplored their inconsistency.</p> + +<p>"What I like about <span class="sc">Joseph</span>," said the Member for Sark, "is his +thoroughness. On finding himself in this new pit, he might have +stopped at the bottom and said nothing till the storm had blown over. +Or, thinking that a mean evasion, he might have defended the course +he has adopted. Those are the alternatives presented to ordinary +mankind: only to <span class="sc">Joseph</span> comes the idea of standing up and indignantly +belabouring Mr. G. and <span class="sc">John Morley</span> for indulgence in the +unpardonable sin of inconsistency!"</p> + +<p><i>Business done.</i>—<span class="sc">Prince Arthur</span>, <span class="sc">Joseph</span>, <span class="sc">Sage of Queen Anne's +Gate</span>, and <span class="sc">John Redmond</span>, unite their forces against Government. +Mr. G. saved by skin of the teeth and majority of 14.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page35" id="page35"></a>[pg 35]</span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"><a href="images/035-1500.png"><img src="images/035a-600.png" width="600" height="440" alt="A PARLIAMENTARY BEAR-GARDEN." /></a> +<h2>A PARLIAMENTARY BEAR-GARDEN.</h2></div> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page36" id="page36"></a>[pg 36]</span> + +<p><i>Tuesday.</i>—<span class="sc">Tim Healy</span> is an honest man and a loyal colleague. +But we are all weak on some point. Temptation irresistible to <span class="sc">Tim</span> +is to appropriate other people's rows. To-night's row distinctly +and exclusively <span class="sc">Sexton's</span>. Yet <span class="sc">Tim</span> promptly came to the front, +and remained there throughout the storm. The one clear impression +amidst confusing uproar was that <span class="sc">Tim</span> was bobbing on top of the +turbulence like a cork on the apex of a water-spout.</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Brodrick</span> began it, and while storm raged sat silent, astonished +at his own moderation. Had merely remarked that the Irish people +were impecunious and garrulous. As an Irishman himself ought to +know something on point. <span class="sc">Saunderson</span>, another member of a gifted +race, explained that, on the whole, he was inclined to regard remark +as complimentary. <span class="sc">Sexton</span>, taking a different view, retorted with +observation that <span class="sc">Brodrick's</span> language was grossly impertinent. +Chairman, appealed to on point of order, gave a nice ruling. It is +now established among Parliamentary precedents that the phrase +"grossly impertinent," if addressed to an individual, is rank blasphemy; +when applied to a thing 'tis but a choleric word. Committee +might usefully have applied itself to consideration of this +delicate distinction. "Instead of which," as the magistrate once +said, it went about roaring like a famished lion.</p> + +<p>For some minutes everyone seemed on his legs. <span class="sc">Carmarthen</span> had +advantage over most Members by reason of his more than six feet +length; <span class="sc">Grandolph</span>, feeling old emotions stirred within him, took +prominent part in the fray; Mr. G., leaning across the table, fixed +his glowing eyes on <span class="sc">Grandolph</span>, and warned him that his conduct +was not calculated to assist the Committee in its dilemma; the +voice of <span class="sc">T. W. Russell</span> was heard in the land; <span class="sc">Prince Arthur</span> had +much to say; Dr. <span class="sc">Tanner</span> broke long silence with a shout; even +<span class="sc">Justin McCarthy</span> was seen on his feet, and was howled at as if he +had been discovered in the act of stealing the Chairman's pocket-handkerchief. +But <span class="sc">Tim</span> topped them all. They were intermittent; +he continuous. Whenever there was approach to pause in the +clamour, <span class="sc">Tim's</span> strident voice filled it up with genial observation, +"Name! Name!" they roared at him. "Drag him out," was the +advice given by one forlorn legislator. In delirious delight of the +rapturous hour <span class="sc">Tim</span> took no notice of these objurgations and interruptions. +"It's not your funeral," an envious countryman snarled +in his ear. Certainly not; but that should make no difference. +<span class="sc">Tim</span> would improve the opportunity to whomsoever it might belong; +and he did.</p> + +<p><i>Business done.</i>—None. But we had a cheerful row.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 200px;"><a href="images/036-600.png"><img src="images/036a-200.png" width="200" height="263" alt="'Waiting to Spring.'" /></a> +<p class="center">"Waiting to Spring."</p></div> + +<p><i>Thursday.</i>—Some excellent speaking to-night, and a walking-match, +in which, lap after lap, +Government won. <span class="sc">Wallace</span> led +off with speech sparkling with +point; the more effective by +contrast with stolid manner. +House crowded and applausive; +always grateful to have something +fresh; get it from <span class="sc">Wallace</span>, +both in manner and matter. +<span class="sc">Prince Arthur</span>, following later, +unusually bitter; pegged away +at Bill and Government +for half +an hour, and sat +down with assertion +that such a +Government was +not worth attacking. +Mr. G., who +had listened to +<span class="sc">Wallace's</span> +home-thrusts +with face appreciative +of their +humour, was unaccountably +disturbed +by <span class="sc">Prince +Arthur's</span> commentaries. +He sat immediately +opposite, waiting +to spring; meanwhile, +with legs +crossed and arms tightly folded, literally holding himself in. On +his feet with catapultic force when <span class="sc">Prince Arthur</span>, gracefully +gathering his skirts, sat down. A Government not worthy of attack. +Ho! A Government that had failed to adhere to the main principles +of its policy. Ha! But there was another Government which, in +1886, had denounced as dishonest a revision of judicial rents in Ireland, +and a few months later had passed Bill revising them. Had +<span class="sc">Prince Arthur</span> belonged to that Government? If so, how did he +uplift this lofty standard of action, than which no Pharisee that +ever lived in Judea carried it higher? This and much more Mr. G. +declaimed at top of voice, with flashing eyes, and exuberant gestures, +cheers and counter cheers filling House. Naturally <span class="sc">Joseph</span> followed +with some kind words about "my right hon. friend." +<span class="sc">Squire of Malwood</span>, long silent, could not resist temptation to +plunge in. House went off to dinner exhausted by the tornado of +bitter, brilliant speech.</p> + +<p>Dull enough after dinner, when walking-match began. Performance +announced for ten o'clock; began punctually; <span class="sc">Mellor</span> acted +as starter. Course, round the Division Lobbies and back to seats. +Time, by Benson's chronometer, varied from 16 mins. 25 secs. +to 18 mins. 3 secs. Programme included eighteen races; numbered +Clause 9 to 26 inclusive; betting 5 to 1 on Government to pull +through; some uncertainty round first division; talk about plungers +in Ministerial team; when made known that majority was 27, it +was seen that Government were safe. Interest in subsequent races +fell away as Government majority mounted up. For some of the +events the Opposition did not appear at starting-post; Government +walked over.</p> + +<p>"Demmit, <span class="sc">Douglas</span>," said Lord <span class="sc">Nom Toddy</span>, coming in mopping +his brow, after eighth Division, "this is not good enough. Next +Thursday I shall send my man down, and let him do the walking +round. No use keeping a dog and barking yourself."</p> + +<p><i>Business done.</i>—Clauses 9 to 26 added to Home-Rule Bill.</p> + +<p><i>Friday.</i>—<span class="sc">Don't Keir Hardie</span> made bold bid to-day for cheap +advertisement. Motion for Address to <span class="sc">Queen</span> in congratulation on +Royal Marriage. <span class="sc">Don't Keir</span> tacked himself on to performance +with attempted Amendment on behalf of the poor and needy. Found +no probability of anyone seconding his Amendment, which therefore +could not be put. Still, served his purpose; suggested visions of +portrait of Benefactor of the People (penny plain, twopence coloured) +hung in all the cottage homes of England.</p> + +<p>"Curious," says the Member for Sark, "how rapidly <span class="sc">Don't Keir +Hardie</span> has played himself out; perhaps rather notable than curious. +House of Commons is the quickest machine ever invented for taking +the measure of a man. Has looked at Member for West Ham, +measured him, weighed him, and set him aside. When, less than +a year ago, he came down, with his brass band and his trumpets +tootling, he was <span class="sc">Don't Keir Hardie</span>. Now, if I may say so, the +boot's on the other leg; it's the House of Commons that Don't Keir +for Hardie."</p> + +<p><i>Business Done.</i>—More about Home-Rule Scheme.</p> + +<hr class="medium" style="color: #000; height: 1px; margin-bottom: -11px;" /> +<hr class="medium" style="color: #000; height: 1px; margin-top: -11px;" /> + +<h3>QUEER QUERIES.</h3> + +<p class="ind"><span class="sc">A Municipal Hall.</span>—I see the County Council are thinking of +spending nearly a million of the ratepayers' money in buying a site +for a municipal palace in Parliament Street, because the members—pending +the time when they are all elected to the Legislature—want +to be as close to it as possible. Why not let them be still closer, in +Westminster Hall itself, which is now untenanted? Or if the +members don't like that, why not make a working arrangement with +the House of Commons to use that chamber in the mornings before +the M.P.'s come down to it? This would be something like an +"in-and-out" clause, and would save no end of money.</p> + +<p class="author"><span class="sc">True Economist.</span></p> + +<p class="ind"><span class="sc">Rewards to Raconteurs.</span>—I am considered a first-rate storyteller +and conversationalist; indeed, few dinner parties (at Lower +Tooting) can get on without me. Do you think I could get elected +to the Reform Club without paying the entrance subscription? I +see that some members of that club have been left £2000 each as a +reward for "brightening the evenings" of a deceased member, and +I feel certain that had the testator known <i>me</i>, he would have +increased my legacy to £4000 at least. My sparkling powers of +conversation are often called a "gift," but I don't want them to be +a gift if I could get anything for them.</p> + +<p class="author"><span class="sc">Sydney Macaulay Hayward Smith.</span></p> + +<hr class="medium" style="color: #000; height: 1px; margin-bottom: -11px;" /> +<hr class="medium" style="color: #000; height: 1px; margin-top: -11px;" /> + +<p class="ind1"><span class="sc">Present! Fire! Bang-Kok!</span>—"Three Frenchmen killed, two +wounded; twenty Siamese killed, and twelve wounded,"—such is +the first result of French <i>Humann</i>-ising influence in Siam.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p class="ind1"><span class="sc">A New Maritime Resort.</span>—"I'm sure," observed Mrs. R., +"that a really pleasant thing to do in the summer holidays would +be to take a trip to the Specific Islands."</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p class="ind1"><span class="sc">The Greatest Authority on the Working of the "In-and-Out" +Clauses.</span>—Mr. <span class="sc">Sexton</span>, M.P.!</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p class="ind1"><span class="sc">Going Against the Grein.</span>—Refusing to patronise the Independent +Theatre.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p class="ind1"><span class="sc">French Billiards at Siam.</span>—The Cannon Game.</p> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<table align="center" summary="transcriber note" width="auto" style="margin-top: 3em; margin-bottom: 3em;"> +<tr> + <td class="note"> + +<h4>Transcriber's Note:</h4> + +<p>This issue contains some dialect.</p> + +<p>Sundry damaged or missing punctuation has been repaired.</p> + +<p>The corrections and explanations listed below are also indicated in the text by a dashed line at the appropriate place:</p> +<p>Move the mouse over the word, and the original text, or the explanation, <ins title="T.N.: Original reads 'apprears'">appears</ins>.</p> + +<p>Page 25: 'abreviating' corrected to 'abbreviating'. +"... as emphasizing, by descriptively abbreviating, these two epithets,..."</p> + +<p>Page 30: 'Nickledy Nod' is correct [www . archive.org/stream/laysandlyrics00hawkgoog#page/n124].<br /> +(From: "Lays and Lyrics": Nickledy Nod.<br /> +Dedicated to the "Sweet Girl Graduates of the School of Cookery." (After Punch.))</p> + +<p>Page 33: 'where corrected to 'were'</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>"True, for our wages, which were somewhere near the "Twenty-ones,"</p> +<p class="i2">Great expectations would have been a trifle rash."</p> + </div> </div> + +<p>Page 34: 'nihil tetigit quod non ornavit' = 'he touched nothing without embellishing it'</p> + +</td> +</tr> +</table> + +<hr class="full" /> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch,or The London Charivari, Volume +105, July 22nd, 1893, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH,OR THE LONDON *** + +***** This file should be named 35734-h.htm or 35734-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/5/7/3/35734/ + +Produced by Lesley Halamek, Malcolm Farmer and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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