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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-14 20:08:15 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-14 20:08:15 -0700 |
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diff --git a/37560-h/37560-h.htm b/37560-h/37560-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9537ab5 --- /dev/null +++ b/37560-h/37560-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,2055 @@ +<!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, 9th September, 1893.</title> + + <style type="text/css"> + + body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + p {text-align: justify;} + .ind {margin-left: 2em;} + .indrl {margin-left: 2em; margin-right: 2em;} + .ind1 {margin-left: 5em; margin-right: 5em;} + .ind2 {margin-left: 8em; margin-right: 5em;} + .ind3 {margin-left: 25%;} + .right {text-align: right; margin-right: 2em;} + .outdent {text-align: left; margin-left: -2em;} + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 {text-align: center;} + blockquote {text-align: justify; font-size: 0.9em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .sans {font-family: sans-serif;} + pre {font-size: 0.7em;} + .sc {font-variant: small-caps;} + .center {text-align: center;} + td.note {text-align: left; font-size: 0.9em; font-weight: normal; border: 1px dashed; padding: 1em;} + 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%;} + p.note {margin-left: 27%; margin-right: 20%; font-size: 1.0em;} + p.author {text-align: right; margin-top: -1em; margin-right: 2em;} + p.author1 {text-align: right; margin-top: -1em; margin-right: 4em;} + span.pagenum {position: absolute; left: 1%; right: 91%; font-size: 8pt; text-indent: 0;} + + .poem {margin-left: 25%; margin-right: 10%; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: left;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem p {margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem p.i2 {margin-left: 1em;} + .poem p.i4 {margin-left: 2em;} + .poem p.i6 {margin-left: 3em;} + .poem p.i8 {margin-left: 4em;} + .poem p.i10 {margin-left: 5em;} + .poem p.i14 {margin-left: 7em;} + .poem p.i34 {margin-left: 17em;} + + .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;} + + .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;} + + </style> +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 105, +September 9, 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, Vol. 105, September 9, 1893 + +Author: Various + +Editor: Sir Francis Burnand + +Release Date: September 29, 2011 [EBook #37560] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, CHARIVARI, SEPT 9, 1893 *** + + + + +Produced by Malcolm Farmer, Lesley Halamek, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<hr class="full" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page109" id="page109"></a>[pg 109]</span> + +<h1>Punch, or the London Charivari</h1> + +<h2>Volume 105, September 9th 1893</h2> + +<h4><i>edited by Sir Francis Burnand</i></h4> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<h2>A BROWN STUDY IN AUTUMN TINTS.</h2> + +<h4>(<i>Being a Fragment from a Matter-of-fact Romance.</i>)</h4> + +<p>And he walked along the +deserted streets and could see no one. Here and there would be a pile of +stones and wooden blocks, telling of an impeded +thoroughfare, but the place itself was empty. There +were seemingly no inhabitants in this deserted city. They had vanished +into thin, or, rather, murky air.</p> + +<p>Then he looked at what +appeared to be a playhouse. +The doors were closed, and +the bill-boards were pasted over with blue paper. Evidently the portals of +the theatre had not been +open for weeks, perchance for months.</p> + +<p>And it was the same in +the parks. Only the leaves +moved, and then only when the wind agitated them. +There were a few sparrows in the trees, but they seemed to be ashamed of +themselves, and chirruped (so to speak) with bated breath. Oh it was indeed +a scene of desolation.</p> + +<p>And the shops, too! +Many of them were closed, +and those which were open seemed to be tenantless. There were no customers; +no counter attendants. +Trade seemed to be as dead +as the proverbial door-nail.</p> + +<p>And the hoardings too! Even they had suffered. +Old posters, manifestly out +of date, fluttered in tatters; it had been no +one's business to restore the rotting paper, +and it had gone the way of other grass. The +placards were worse than useless; they could not be deciphered.</p> + +<p>And yet again he marched on. There were +exhibitions, and no one to see them; museums, +and no visitors to inspect them; and churches, +and no one to fill them. At length he came +upon a guardian of the public peace who was +lazily gazing into the sluggish river over the +parapet of an embankment.</p> + +<p>"Good sir," said he, "can you tell me if +this dreadful, lonely, deserted place is the City of the Dead?"</p> + +<p>"Go along with you!" cried the policeman, +good-humouredly; "it's only London in September!"</p> + +<p>And then he felt that he had been deceived by appearances!</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h3>History Repeats Itself Again.</h3> + +<blockquote><p> +["The alleged unemployed who assemble on +Tower Hill are becoming worse even than mountebanks. +One of the speakers declared yesterday +that 'The secret societies of London are going +to-night to wait on Mr. <span class="sc">Gladstone</span>, to ask what +he is going to do. If the <span class="sc">Prime Minister</span> does +not give a definite reply, they will take him on +their backs and throw him into the Thames.'"—<i>The +Daily Telegraph, Sept. 1.</i>] +</p></blockquote> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>The <i>genius loci</i> haunts</p> +<p class="i2">Historic Tower Hill,</p> +<p>For, judging by their vaunts,</p> +<p class="i2">Men lose their heads there still.</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"><a href="images/109-1000.png"><img src="images/109-400.png" width="400" height="482" alt="THE MINOR ILLS OF LIFE." /></a> +<h3 class="sans">THE MINOR ILLS OF LIFE.</h3> + +<p class="center"><span class="sc">Portrait of a Gentleman attempting to regain his Tent after the +Morning Bath.</span></p></div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h2>JABEZWOCKY.</h2> + +<blockquote><p> +["In the House of Lords a Bill strengthening +the power of making Directors liable in respect of +misconduct or neglect in the winding-up of Companies +passed its second reading."—<i>Daily Paper.</i>] +</p></blockquote> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>'Twas Ruin! And the Small Invest-</p> +<p class="i2">-Ors gyred and gimbled in despair;</p> +<p>Common as dirt were Shareholders,</p> +<p class="i2">But assets very rare!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"Beware the Jabezwock, my Lord!</p> +<p class="i2">The jaws that bite, the claws that dig;</p> +<p>Beware the Hobbs-hobbs bird, and shun</p> +<p class="i2">The saintly Guinea-pig!"</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>The Peer set out, his Bill in hand;</p> +<p class="i2">He had to be extremely leary</p> +<p>In tackling such an artful foe,</p> +<p class="i2">Whose weapon was <i>Suppressio Veri</i>!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>And as he mused o'er blighted lives,</p> +<p class="i2">The Jabezwock, as yet unfloored,</p> +<p>Came snuffling piously to join</p> +<p class="i2">A meeting of its Board.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>One, two! One, two! And through and through</p> +<p class="i2">All stages passed the Bill like winking;</p> +<p>And this is what the Peers just then</p> +<p class="i2">Most probably were thinking:—</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"And have we scotched the Jabezwock,</p> +<p class="i2">And spoiled him of his false Prospectus!</p> +<p>O frabjous day! What Rad will say</p> +<p class="i2">That from this House he'd now eject us?"</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>'Twas Ruin ruined! And the dupes</p> +<p class="i2">Quite chortled such a sight to see;</p> +<p>The smug Director brought to book</p> +<p class="i2">Near to the Dividend Tree!</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h2>NEW NURSERY RHYME.</h2> + +<h4>(<i>By a Sporting M.P.</i>)</h4> + +<blockquote><p> +["Official opinion will be, +and indeed has been, brought +to bear upon Mr. <span class="sc">Hanbury</span> +and his small knot of obstructionists +to avert an unreasonable +discussion of the Estimates."—<i>Daily +Chronicle.</i>] +</p></blockquote> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Autumn Session? Of course!</p> +<p>Isn't <span class="sc">Hanbury</span> cross</p> +<p>To see the Grand Old Man</p> +<p>So ride the high horse?</p> +<p>But why should <i>we</i> linger</p> +<p>Afar from the grouse,</p> +<p>To help the obstructives</p> +<p>Discredit the House?</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h2 class="sans">BARNETT OF BRISTOL CITY.</h2> + +<h4><i>A Song of St. Jude's.</i></h4> + +<p class="center"> +[The Rev. <span class="sc">S. A. Barnett</span>, +late Vicar of St. Jude's, Whitechapel, +has been promoted to +the Canonry of Bristol.] +</p> + +<h3><span class="sc">Air</span>—"<i>Nancy of Bristol City.</i>"</h3> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="sc">Barnett</span> is Canon of Bristol City!</p> +<p class="i2">Pass the news around, my boys!</p> +<p>To leave Whitechapel seems half a pity;</p> +<p class="i2">Sorrow will go round, my boys!</p> +<p>St. Jude's, and thy great Hall, Toynbee,</p> +<p>Some right good Christians doubtless see;</p> +<p>But they're all small shakes along o' <i>he!</i></p> +<p class="i6">Pass his health around, my boys!</p> +<p class="i6"><span class="sc">Barnett!</span> <span class="sc">Barnett!</span></p> +<p class="i2">Well did he "arn" it—</p> +<p class="i2">That Bristol Canonree!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>And when he gets to Bristol City,</p> +<p class="i2">Pass the cheers around, my boys!</p> +<p>He'll draw the wise, the kind, the pretty;</p> +<p class="i2">They <i>must</i> gather round, my boys.</p> +<p>The slum he sweetened in London's east,</p> +<p>With Charity's boon, and Fine Arts' feast,</p> +<p>Will miss this good, sage, gentle priest;</p> +<p class="i2">Pass his health around, my boys!</p> +<p class="i6"> <span class="sc">Barnett!</span> <span class="sc">Barnett!</span></p> +<p class="i6"> Your loss we'll larn it,</p> +<p class="i2">You were the Man for <i>we</i>!</p> +<p class="i2"><i>Your health, where'er you be!</i></p> + </div> </div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h3><i>NOUS</i> AND NERVES.</h3> + +<blockquote><p> +[It is said by some of his friends that Dr. <span class="sc">Charcot</span>, +lately dead, who spent a considerable part of +his life in the study of neurosis, found this disease +everywhere at last, especially in the naturalistic +school of French writers.] +</p></blockquote> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p class="i8">If this Neurosis,</p> +<p class="i8">As some suppose, is</p> +<p>The <i>causa causans</i> of Naturalism,</p> +<p class="i8">The spring ubiquitous</p> +<p class="i8">Of aught iniquitous</p> +<p>That puts 'twixt genius and sense a schism;</p> +<p class="i8">Then must we pray</p> +<p class="i8">For the dawn of a day</p> +<p>When the Glorious Gift that the world so serves</p> +<p class="i8">May cut chlorosis,</p> +<p class="i8">And shun neurosis;</p> +<p>In fact, that Genius may have no "nerves."</p> + </div> </div> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page110" id="page110"></a>[pg 110]</span> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h2 class="sans">"READY, AYE READY!"</h2> + +<h4>(<i>A Sailor Song Up to Date.</i>)</h4> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"><a href="images/110-1100.png"><img src="images/110-400.png" width="400" height="488" alt="Master John Bull. Just you wait Two or Three Years," /></a> +<p class="center"><i>Master John Bull.</i> "<span class="sc">Just you wait Two or Three Years, +till I make her Swim,—then <i>I'll</i> show you!</span>"]</p></div> + +<blockquote><p> +[Sir <span class="sc">Edward Reed</span> said that with the armoured citadel intact, and an +unarmoured end destroyed, the ship is in imminent danger of upsetting. The +<i>Victoria</i> was bound to capsize with the injury she received. There were +other ships that were equally bound to capsize, when they were injured in +the same manner; the reason being that instead of the armed citadel being +the major part of the structure, and the unarmoured ends the minor portion, +we had chosen to make the unarmoured ends the major part, measuring more +than half the entire length of the ship. The ships likely to capsize in a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page111" id="page111"></a>[pg 111]</span> +similar manner, if they received like injury in peace or in action, were the +<i>Agamemnon</i>, <i>Ajax</i>, <i>Anson</i>, <i>Benbow</i>, <i>Camperdown</i>, <i>Collingwood</i>, +<i>Colossus</i>, <i>Edinburgh</i>, <i>Howe</i>, <i>Inflexible</i>, <i>Rodney</i>, and +<i>Sans Pareil</i>.] +</p></blockquote> + +<h3><span class="sc">Air</span>—"<i>Hearts of Oak.</i>"</h3> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Come, cheer up, my lads! 'tis to Davy we steer!</p> +<p>(We add to his Locker 'bout one ship per year.)</p> +<p>To capsizing we call you in cheeriest staves,</p> +<p>For what is so certain as death 'neath the waves?</p> +<p class="i10"> Iron coffins our ships,</p> +<p class="i10"> Death-doomed tars are our men.</p> +<p class="i10"> Our ships are unsteady!</p> +<p class="i10"> Ready, aye ready!</p> +<p class="i8">We'll sink or turn turtle again and again!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>We ne'er see our ships (for which millions they pay),</p> +<p>The <i>Ajax</i>, the <i>Anson</i>, and such, but we say,</p> +<p>"Will they ram, or capsize, or but run slap ashore?</p> +<p>When we go to the bottom <span class="sc">John Bull</span> must—build more!"</p> +<p class="i10"> Iron coffins our ships, &c.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Our <i>Camperdowns</i>, <i>Collingwoods</i>, <i>Rodneys</i>, <i>Benbows</i>,</p> +<p><span class="sc">Reed</span> says are all "dangerous"—<i>not</i> to our foes!</p> +<p>If struck in their unarmoured ends they turn o'er,</p> +<p>And go to the bottom! How <span class="sc">Davy</span> must roar!</p> +<p class="i10"> Iron coffins our ships, &c.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>The Frenchy and Rooshian must laugh as they look,</p> +<p>And see <span class="sc">John Bull</span> trying, by hook or by crook,</p> +<p>To get his tin-kettles to keep right side up,</p> +<p>Agin touch of a ram, agin tap of a Krupp!</p> +<p class="i10"> Iron coffins our ships, &c.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"Just wait two or three years," grumbles <span class="sc">John</span>, "and <i>I'll</i> show,</p> +<p><i>If my ships will but swim</i>, I can still whop the foe.</p> +<p>Stop a bit—whilst my big-wigs build, blunder, debate!"</p> +<p>Ah! that's all mighty fine, but, my <span class="sc">John</span>, <i>will</i> they wait?</p> +<p class="i10"> Iron coffins our ships, &c.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Britannia triumphant we all wish to see,</p> +<p>Quite equal to two foreign fleets, perhaps three;</p> +<p>So cheer up, my hearties, and banish your fears!</p> +<p>They will build us a ship as <i>will</i> float—in three years!</p> + </div> </div> + +<p class="center">(<i>Meanwhile, my lads, "chorus as before," if you please, until +further orders from our Naval Oracles!</i>)</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p class="i10"> Iron, coffins our ships,</p> +<p class="i10"> <span class="sc">Davy's</span> wictims our men;</p> +<p class="i10"> In wessels unsteady,</p> +<p class="i10"> We're ready, aye ready,</p> +<p class="i8">To sink or turn turtle again and again!</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"><a href="images/111-1500.png"><img src="images/111-600.png" width="600" height="386" alt="PART II. THE LOWER CREATION--SEEKING FOR A JOB." /></a> +<h3 class="sans">PART II. THE LOWER CREATION—SEEKING FOR A JOB.</h3></div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h2>SONNET.</h2> + +<h4>(<i>By a Failure.</i>)</h4> + +<div class="poem1"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Why</p> +<p class="i2">Long,</p> +<p class="i2">Strong</p> +<p>Sigh?</p> +<p>I</p> +<p class="i2"><i>Wrong</i></p> +<p class="i2">Song</p> +<p>Try!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Ne'er</p> +<p class="i2">Muse</p> +<p>Dare</p> +<p class="i2">Use</p> +<p>Worse</p> +<p>Verse!!</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p class="ind"><span class="sc">From Colchester.</span>—The oysters are trembling in their beds. On +October 6th the Duke +of <span class="sc">Cambridge</span> is expected to attack the natives at Colchester in +full force. Last year, +when Sir <span class="sc">D. Evans</span> was +in the chair at the banquet, 20,000 oysters were consumed! Good <span class="sc">Evans</span>!!</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p class="center"><span class="sc">A Very Annoying Stream.</span>—The River <i>Tees</i>.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h2>LETTERS FOR THE SILLY SEASON.</h2> + +<h4>(<i>Apparently intended for some of our Contemporaries.</i>)</h4> + +<p class="indrl"><span class="sc">Sir</span>,—Of course I do not wish to be frivolous, but do you not +think that "<i>lovely</i>," "<i>too sweet</i>," "<i>quite too darling</i>," and +other +expressions in italics are miss-used words? At any rate, they are +constantly in the mouths of my daughters and nieces.</p> + +<p class="author1">Yours truly, <span class="sc">Paterfamilias</span>.</p> + +<p class="indrl"><span class="sc">Sir</span>,—I give a list of misused words that have occurred to me during +a month on the Continent. I put the words I consider inappropriately +applied in italics. Paris is <i>inexpensive</i>, Boulogne is <i>beautiful</i>, +Cologne is <i>inodorous</i>, German cookery is <i>good</i>, <span class="sc">'Arry</span> on +his travels is +<i>pleasant</i>, garlic is <i>agreeable</i>, hotel charges in Italy are +<i>moderate</i>, +railway travelling in Belgium is <i>expeditious</i>, washing-basins in Swiss +hotels are <i>large</i>, a rough passage across the Channel is +<i>delightful</i>, +and the Continent is <i>like</i> home.</p> + +<p class="indrl">I could extend the list indefinitely, but have written enough to +show how imperfect the English language really is to convey accurately +one's most ordinary ideas. I may add that when I have used +and not misused words, I have been told that I have no right to +swear—so what <i>can</i> I do?</p> + +<p class="author1">Yours truly, <span class="sc">Common Sense</span>.</p> + +<p class="indrl"><span class="sc">Sir</span>,—I am glad to see that there is a correspondence upon misused +words. However, I can say that such words as "excellent," +"admirable," "wonderful," "splendid," and "glorious," are <i>not</i> +misused when applied to ——.* Thanking you in advance,</p> + +<p class="author1">I remain, yours truly, <span class="sc">Puff Puff</span>.</p> + +<p class="ind1">* Editorially suppressed. Applications for insertion of +advertisements should be addressed to another quarter.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h3>AN OLD DOGGEREL COUPLET RE-DRESSED.</h3> + +<p class="center"> +[M. <span class="sc">Zola</span> is understood to have accepted an invitation to the Institute of +Journalists' Conference in London.] +</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<p>Fairer subject never rose our graphic pens to task all,</p> +<p>Than the presence (and paper) amidst the Children of Letters, the</p> + <p class="i4">new Grub Street geniuses, the Poets and Press-men and penny-</p> + <p class="i4">a-liners, the Sages and "all the rages," the Naturalistic Novelists</p> + <p class="i4">and New Humourists, the literary "Strong Men" and Anti-</p> + <p class="i4">Sentimentalists, the Impressionists and Symbolists, and Stylists,</p> + <p class="i4">and Superior Sniffers, and "Manly" Muse-hunters, and Man-</p> + <p class="i4">despising Mugwumps, and Minor Minstrels and Minor-Minstrel-</p> + <p class="i4">flouters, and would-be Laureates, and would-be-laureate-exter-</p> + <p class="i4">minators, and Mummer-Idolators and Mummer-Iconoclasts, and</p> + <p class="i4">Up-to-date Oracles, and <i>Fin-de-siècle</i> obscurantists, of the</p> + <p class="i4">pyramidal author of <i>Dr. Pascal</i>!</p> +</div></div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p class="center"><span class="sc">Motto of our Military Authorities.</span>—"Put up your Dukes!"</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page112" id="page112"></a>[pg 112]</span> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h2 class="sans">UNDER THE ROSE.</h2> + +<h4>(<i>A Story in Scenes.</i>)</h4> + +<p class="ind"><span class="outdent"><span class="sc">Scene I.</span>—<i>A decorously-furnished Drawing-room,</i></span> <i>at Hornbeam +Lodge, Clapham, the residence of</i> <span class="sc">Theophilus Toovey</span>, Esq. +<i>It is Sunday evening.</i> Mr. <span class="sc">Toovey</span>, <i>an elderly Gentleman with +a high forehead, a rabbit mouth, and a long but somewhat wispy +beard, is discovered sitting alone with a suitable book, upon which +he is endeavouring to fix his thoughts, apparently without success.</i></p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 300px;"><a href="images/112-700.png"><img src="images/112-275.png" width="275" height="490" alt="'How shall I ever tell Cornelia?'" /></a> +<p class="center">"How shall I ever tell Cornelia?"</p></div> + +<p><i>Mr. Toovey (reading).</i> "With what a mixture of indescribable +emotions did I find myself actually standing upon the very +brink——" (<i>To himself, as he puts the volume down</i>) It's no use, +I can't concentrate my mind on Palestine to-night, I can't forget +this horrible "Eldorado." Ever since I got that official warrant, or +demand, or whatever it was, yesterday, I've been haunted by the +name. It seems to meet me everywhere; even on the very hoardings! +Why, <i>why</i> didn't I invest Aunt <span class="sc">Eliza's</span> legacy in consols, as +<span class="sc">Cornelia</span> told me, instead of putting it into a gold-mine? I think +<span class="sc">Larkins</span> said it was a <i>gold</i>-mine. If only I had never met him +that +day last year—but he seemed to think he +was doing me such a favour in letting +me have some of his shares at all; he'd +been allotted more than he wanted, he +told me, and he was so confident the +Company was going to be a success that I—and +now, after hearing nothing all this +time, I'm suddenly called upon to pay a +hundred and seventy-five pounds, and +that's only for one half year, as far as +I can make out.... How can I draw a +cheque for all that without <span class="sc">Cornelia</span> +finding out? I never dared tell her, and +she overlooks all my accounts. Why did +I, who have never been a follower after +Mammon, fall so easily into that accursed +mine? I am no business man. All the +time I was a partner in that floorcloth +factory, I never interfered in the conduct +of it, beyond signing my name +occasionally—which was all they allowed +me to do—and they took the earliest +opportunity of buying me out. And yet +I must needs go and speculate with Aunt +<span class="sc">Eliza's</span> five hundred pounds, and—what +is worse—lose every penny, and more! +I, a Churchwarden, looked up to by every +member of an Evangelical congregation, +the head of a household like this!... +How shall I ever tell <span class="sc">Cornelia</span>? And +yet I must—I never had a secret from her +in my life. I shall know no peace till I +have confessed all. I <i>will</i> confess—this +very night—when we are alone. If I +could speak to <span class="sc">Charles</span> first, or to that +young Mr. <span class="sc">Curphew</span>—they will both be +here to supper—and <span class="sc">Charles</span> is in a +Solicitor's office. But my nephew is too +young, and Mr. <span class="sc">Curphew</span>, though he <i>is</i> +a journalist, is wise and serious beyond +his years—and if, as <span class="sc">Cornelia</span> thinks, he +is beginning to feel a tenderness for +<span class="sc">Althea</span>, why, it might cause him to reconsider +his—— No, I can't tell anyone +but my wife. (<i>Sounds are heard in the +hall.</i>) There they are!—they are back +from Church—already! (<i>He catches up his book.</i>) I must try to be +calm. She must not notice anything at present!</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. T. (outside).</i> I've left my things downstairs, <span class="sc">Phœbe</span>; you +can take them up to my room. (<i>Entering.</i>) Well, Pa, I hope you +feel less poorly than you did, after your quiet evening at home?</p> + +<p><i>Mr. T. (flurried).</i> Yes, my love, yes. I—I've had a peaceful +time with <i>Peregrinations in Palestine</i>. A—a most absorbing book, my love.</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. T.</i> You would find it more absorbing, Pa, if you held it the +right way up. You've been asleep!</p> + +<p><i>Mr. T.</i> No, indeed, I only wish I—that is—I may have dropped +off for a moment.</p> + +<p><i>Charles (who has followed his Aunt).</i> You wouldn't have had +much chance of doing that if you'd been at Church, Uncle!</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. T.</i> No, indeed. Mr. <span class="sc">Powles</span> preached a most awakening +discourse, which I am glad to find <span class="sc">Charles</span> appreciated.</p> + +<p><i>Charles.</i> I meant the cushion in your pew, Uncle; you ought to +have it restuffed. It's like sitting on a bag of mixed biscuits!</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. T.</i> We do not go to Church to be <i>comfortable</i>, +<span class="sc">Charles</span>. +Pa, Mr. <span class="sc">Powles</span> alluded very powerfully, from the pulpit, to the +recent commercial disasters, and the sinfulness of speculation in +professing Christians. I wish you could have heard him.</p> + +<p><i>Mr. T. (squirming).</i> A—a deprivation indeed, my love. But I was +better at home—better at home.</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. T.</i> You will have other opportunities; he announces a course +of weekday addresses, at the Mission Rooms, on "The Thin End of +the Wedge of Achan." <span class="sc">Charles</span>, I gave you one of the circulars to +carry for me. Where is it?</p> + +<p><i>Charles.</i> In my overcoat, I think, Aunt. Shall I go and get it?</p> + +<p class="right">[<span class="sc">Althea</span> <i>enters</i>.</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. T.</i> Not now; I haven't my spectacles by me. <span class="sc">Thea</span>, did you +tell <span class="sc">Phœbe</span> to pack your trunk the first thing to-morrow?</p> + +<p><i>Althea.</i> Yes, Mamma; but there is plenty of time. <span class="sc">Cecilia</span> doesn't +expect me till the afternoon.</p> + +<p><i>Charles.</i> So <span class="sc">Thea</span>'s going up to town for a few days' spree, eh, +Aunt <span class="sc">Cornelia</span>?</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. T. (severely).</i> Your cousin is going on a visit to a married +schoolfellow, who is her senior by two or three years, and who, I +understand, was the most exemplary pupil Miss <span class="sc">Pruins</span> ever had. I +have no doubt Mrs. <span class="sc">Merridew</span> will take <span class="sc">Althea</span> to such +entertainments +as are fit and proper for her—picture-galleries, museums, concerts, +possibly a lecture—but I should not describe +that myself as a "spree."</p> + +<p><i>Charles.</i> No more should I, Aunt, not by any means.</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. T.</i> I never met this Mrs. <span class="sc">Merridew</span>, +but I was favourably impressed by +the way she wrote. A very sensible letter.</p> + +<p><i>Alth. (to herself).</i> Except the postscript. +But I didn't like to show Mamma that!</p> + +<p><i>Charles.</i> But you'll go to a theatre or +two, or a dance, or something, while +you're with her, won't you?</p> + +<p class="ind1">[<span class="sc">Althea</span> <i>tries to signal to him to be silent</i>.</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. T.</i> <span class="sc">Charles</span>, you forget where +you are. A daughter of ours set foot in a +playhouse! Surely you know your Uncle's +objection to anything in the nature of a +theatrical entertainment? Did he not +write and threaten to resign the Vice-Presidency +of the Lower Clapham Athenæum +at the mere hint of a performance +of scenes from some play by that dissolute +writer <span class="sc">Sheridan</span>—even without costumes +and scenery? His protest was most admirably +worded. I remember I drafted it myself.</p> + +<p><i>Mr. T. (with some complacency).</i> Yes, +yes, I've always been extremely firm on +that subject, and also on the dangers of +dancing—indeed, I have almost succeeded +in putting an entire stop to the children +dancing to piano-organs in the streets of +this neighbourhood—a most reprehensible custom!</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. T.</i> Yes, <span class="sc">Theophilius</span>, and you +might have stopped it long before you did, +if you had taken my suggestion earlier. +I hope I am not to infer, from your +manner, that you are yourself addicted +to these so-called pleasures, <span class="sc">Charles</span>?</p> + +<p><i>Charles.</i> Dancing in the street to a +piano-organ, Aunt? Never did such a thing in my life!</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. T.</i> That was not my meaning, <span class="sc">Charles</span>, as you very well +know. I hope you employ your evenings in improving your knowledge +of your profession. I should be sorry to think you frequented theatres.</p> + +<p><i>Charles (demurely).</i> Theatres? rather not, Aunt, never go near +'em. (<i>To himself.</i>) Catch me going where I can't smoke! (<i>Aloud.</i>) +You see, when a fellow has lodgings in a nice cheerful street in +Bloomsbury, it isn't likely he'd want to turn out of an evening after +sticking hard at the office all day!</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. T.</i> I am glad to hear you say so, <span class="sc">Charles</span>. It is quite a +mistake for a young man to think he cannot do without amusement. +Your Uncle never thought of amusing himself when he was young—or +our married life would not be what it is. And look at Mr. +<span class="sc">Curphew</span>, who is coming in to supper to-night, see how hard <i>he</i> +works—up to town every afternoon, and not back till long after +midnight.</p> + +<p class="right" style="margin-top: -2em;">[<i>The bell rings.</i></p> + +<p><i>Charles.</i> Rather queer hours to work, Aunt. Are you sure he +doesn't go up just to read the paper?</p> + +<p><i>Althea (with a slight flush).</i> He goes up to <i>write</i> it, +<span class="sc">Charles</span>. +Mr. <span class="sc">Curphew</span> is on the press, and has taken rooms here for the air of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page113" id="page113"></a>[pg 113]</span> +the Common. And—and he is +very clever, and works very +hard indeed; you can see that from his looks.</p> + +<p><i>Phœbe (announcing).</i> Mr. <span class="sc">Curphew</span>.</p> + +<p class="ind1">[<i>A tall slim young man enters, +with a pale, smooth-shaven +face, and rather melancholy eyes, which light up +as he greets</i> <span class="sc">Althea</span>.</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. T.</i> How do you do, +Mr. <span class="sc">Curphew</span>? You are a +little late—but some services +last longer than others. Oh, +<span class="sc">Phœbe</span>, now I think of it, just +bring me a paper you will find +in one of the pockets of Mr. +<span class="sc">Collimore's</span> overcoat; it's +hanging up in the hall—the +drab one with grey velvet on +the collar. (<span class="sc">Phœbe</span> <i>goes</i>.) +It's a circular, Mr. <span class="sc">Curphew</span>, +which was given out in our +Church this evening, and may interest you to see.</p> + +<p><i>Phœbe (returning).</i> If you +please, m'm, this is the only paper I could find.</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. T. (taking it from the +salver, without looking at it).</i> +Quite right, <span class="sc">Phœbe</span>—we shall +be ready for supper when I +ring. (<i>When</i> <span class="sc">Phœbe</span> <i>has +gone</i>.) I can't see anything +without my——<span class="sc">Althea</span>, just +go and see if I have left my +spectacle-case in my room, my +dear. It's astonishing how +they're always getting mislaid, +and I'm so helpless without +them. (<span class="sc">Althea</span> <i>goes</i>.) +Mr. <span class="sc">Curphew</span>, perhaps you +will read this aloud for me; I want my husband to hear.</p> + +<p><i>Curphew (suppressing a +slight start).</i> May I ask if they +distribute papers of this sort at your Church—and—and +why you think it is likely to +interest me in particular? (<i>To +himself.</i>) Wonder if this can be a trap!</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. T. (taking back the +document, and holding it close +to her nose).</i> Gracious goodness! +<i>this</i> isn't the—— <span class="sc">Charles</span>, perhaps you will explain how you +come to have a paper in your pocket covered with pictures of females +in shamelessly short skirts?</p> + +<p><i>Charles (to himself).</i> In for a pie-jaw this time! What an owl +that girl is! (<i>Aloud.</i>) It's only a programme, Aunt; thing they +give you at a music-hall, you know.</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. T. (in an awful voice).</i> Only a programme! Pa, tell this +unhappy boy your opinion of his conduct!</p> + +<p><i>Mr. T. (rising magisterially).</i> <span class="sc">Charles</span>, am I to understand that +a nephew of mine allows himself to be seen in a disreputable resort such as——</p> + +<p><i>Charles.</i> Oh come, Uncle, you can't know much about the Eldorado, if——</p> + +<p><i>Mr. T. (with a bound).</i> <i>The Eldorado.</i> How <i>dare</i> you bring +that +name up here, Sir? What do you mean by it?</p> + +<p><i>Charles (surprised).</i> Why, you must have heard of it—it's one of +the leading music-halls.</p> + +<p><i>Mr. T. (gasping).</i> A music-hall? the Eldorado! (<i>To himself.</i>) +If it should turn out to be—but no, my nerves are upset, it <i>can't</i> +be—and +yet—what <i>am</i> I to say to him?</p> + +<p class="right">[<i>He falls back into his chair with a groan.</i></p> + +<p><i>Mrs. T.</i> <span class="sc">Charles</span>, if you can stand there and feel no shame when +you see how disturbed and disgusted even Mr. <span class="sc">Curphew</span> looks, and +the agitated state to which you have reduced your poor Uncle, you +must indeed be hardened!</p> + +<p class="ind2">[<span class="sc">Curphew</span> <i>has considerately walked to the window</i>; Mr. +<span class="sc">Toovey</span> +<i>endeavours to collect his faculties</i>; <span class="sc">Charles</span> <i>looks from one +to the other in bewilderment</i>.</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="sc">End of Scene I.</span></p> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"><a href="images/113-1000.png"><img src="images/113-375.png" width="375" height="487" alt="SOMETHING WRONG SOMEWHERE." /></a> +<h3 class="sans">SOMETHING WRONG SOMEWHERE.</h3> + +<h4><i>September 1. Partridge Shooting.</i></h4> + +<p><i>Old Twentystun (reviewing his symptoms).</i> "<span class="sc">Dear me! Mos' +'straordinary, +this shortness o' breath. Le' me see—'Good plain food and +best quality o' drink,' Doctor said. Tha 's all right—never stinted +myself for either. 'Never overdo yourself,' says he. Haven't. +Never walked a step if I could help it since last Season. 'Go to +bed early.' So I have, and never hurried up either. Mos' 'straordinary! +Mos' 'straordinary!</span>"</p> <p class="right">[<i>Goes home to consult Doctor again.</i></p></div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h3>YORKSHIRE VICTOR.</h3> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Farewell to eminence attained of yore,</p> +<p>Great Surrey heads the County list no more!</p> +<p>For though you give a <span class="sc">Richardson</span> or <span class="sc">Hayward</span>,</p> +<p>Dame Fortune still <i>will</i> be a trifle wayward;</p> +<p>Though <i>one</i> was sorely missed, and surely no man</p> +<p>Can tell where they'd have been if they'd had <span class="sc">Lohmann</span>.</p> +<p>Surrey has had (like every dog) its day,</p> +<p>In 1893, perforce, makes way</p> +<p>For sturdy Yorkshire. <i>Mr. Punch</i> admires</p> +<p>This famous county of the Northern Shires.</p> +<p>For many a season past the worst of luck</p> +<p>Has dogged their steps, though not decreased their pluck;</p> +<p>And though each cricketer may have his likes,</p> +<p>There's not a man who'll not say—Well-played, Tykes!</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h3>COPHETUA, L.C.C.</h3> + +<p>Mr. <span class="sc">Grant Allen</span> charges +London with being "a squalid +village." Sir <span class="sc">Lepel Griffin</span> +suggests that the "Postprandial Philosopher" must have +been dining badly. He—Sir +<span class="sc">Lepel</span>—contends that "Like +the beggar-maid in Mr. <span class="sc">Burne-Jones's</span> picture, London is a +beautiful woman, fair of face +and noble of form, and only +needs the transforming hand +of some future King <span class="sc">Cophetua</span> +to strip her of her sordid rags, +and clothe her in the lustrous +raiment which befits her." +This is what <span class="sc">'Arry</span> would call +"the straight Griffin"! By +all means make <span class="sc">Cophetua</span> Chairman of the London +County Council—as soon as +you find him! Sir <span class="sc">Lepel</span>, instead +of joining in the parrot-chorus of disparagement, +actually says, "The best hope of the regeneration of London is in the +County Council"!!! He thinks "it is a mistake" to distrust them, +and would hand over to them (says the <i>Daily Chronicle</i>) most of the +machinery and material of our municipal life. Quite so. And as +the Gryphon (which is much the same thing as Griffin) said to the +Mock Turtle (suggestive this of the Civic Corporation), in <i>Alice in +Wonderland</i>, <i>Punch</i> would say to Sir <span class="sc">Lepel</span> or his problematic +<span class="sc">Cophetua</span>, "Drive on, old fellow! Don't be all day about it!"</p> + +<p>When <span class="sc">Alice</span> ventured to say she had never heard of "Uglification," +the Gryphon lifted up both its paws in surprise. "What! +Never heard of uglifying!" it exclaimed. "You know what to +beautify is, I suppose?"—"Yes," said <span class="sc">Alice</span>, doubtfully; "it +means—to—make—anything—prettier."—"Well, then," the <span class="sc">Gryphon</span> +(who must have been a Postprandial Philosopher, surely) went +on, "if you don't know what to uglify is, you <i>must</i> be a simpleton."</p> + +<p>By the way, why should not Sir <span class="sc">Lepel</span> himself essay the <i>rôle</i> of +King <span class="sc">Cophetua</span>, L.C.C., and help to beautify the modern Babylonian +beggar-maid? He says that "the general administration of London +is infinitely mean and inefficient," adding that "vested interests are +chiefly to blame for the national disgrace." Very well. Let Sir +<span class="sc">Lepel</span> help to give those same Vested Interests "vun in the veskit," +squelch the Jerry Builder, and arrest the march of "Uglification," +and then—why then London will, as in duty bound, erect <i>his</i> statue +in place, and on the site of, that other, and very different "Griffin," +which is the very incarnation of Uglification, and material embodiment +of Bœotian Bumbledom!</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p class="center"><span class="sc">Not the Girl for Hot Weather.</span>—One who "makes sunshine +in a shady place."</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page114" id="page114"></a>[pg 114]</span> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h2>LITTLE BILL-EE.</h2> + +<h4>(<i>Latest House of Lords' Version of Thackeray's Song.</i>)</h4> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>There were three sailors of London City,</p> +<p class="i2">Who took a boat and went to sea:</p> +<p>There was guzzling <span class="sc">Bob</span> and gorging <span class="sc">Harty</span>,</p> +<p class="i2">And the youngest—he was Little <span class="sc">Bill-ee</span>!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Poor Little <span class="sc">Bill-ee</span> was but a sailor-boy,</p> +<p class="i2">And a very hard time in sooth had he.</p> +<p>With a rope's-end he was fully familiar,</p> +<p class="i2">And a marline-spike he shuddered to see.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>He had sailed in the ship of one Captain <span class="sc">Willyum</span>.</p> +<p class="i2">Who had taught him sailing, and algebree,</p> +<p>The use of the sextant, and navigation,</p> +<p class="i2">Likewise the hornpipe, and fiddle-de-dee.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>The Captain's pet for a long, long voyage</p> +<p class="i2">Had been this sailor-boy Little <span class="sc">Bill-ee</span>;</p> +<p>Though some of the crew of the same were jealous,</p> +<p class="i2">And larruped him sore—on the strict Q.T.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>But being paid off from <span class="sc">Willyum's</span> wessel,</p> +<p class="i2">The kid was kidnapped, and taken to sea</p> +<p>By guzzling <span class="sc">Bob</span> and gorging <span class="sc">Harty</span>,</p> +<p class="i2">Who had long had their eye on poor Little <span class="sc">Bill-ee</span>.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>For guzzling <span class="sc">Bob</span> hated Captain <span class="sc">Willyum</span>,</p> +<p class="i2">While gorging <span class="sc">Harty</span>—well, there, you see,</p> +<p><i>He</i>'d been <span class="sc">Willyum's</span> mate, but had cut the connection,</p> +<p class="i2">And he couldn't abide poor Little <span class="sc">Bill-ee</span>.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> + * * * * * + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Poor Little <span class="sc">Bill-ee</span>, he shrank and shuddered</p> +<p class="i2">At going aboard; for he says, says he—</p> +<p>"When they get me aloft they will spifflicate me,</p> +<p class="i2">And there'll be an end of poor little <span class="sc">Bill-ee</span>!"</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Which same seemed a sad foregone conclusion,</p> +<p class="i2">Though Captain <span class="sc">Willyum</span> he skipped with glee,</p> +<p>And cried, "Little <span class="sc">Bill-ee</span>, keep up your pecker!</p> +<p class="i2">You shall yet be the Captain of a Seventy-three!"</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> + * * * * * + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Now, to keep up your pecker with naught to peck at</p> +<p class="i2">Is mighty hard, as a fool may see;</p> +<p>And <span class="sc">Bob</span> and <span class="sc">Harty</span> (who loved not short commons)</p> +<p class="i2">Cast eager eyes upon Little <span class="sc">Bill-ee</span>.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Says guzzling <span class="sc">Bob</span> to gorging <span class="sc">Harty</span>,</p> +<p class="i2">"I am extremely hungaree;"</p> +<p>To guzzling <span class="sc">Bob</span> says gorging <span class="sc">Harty</span>,</p> +<p class="i2">"Let's make a breakfast of Little <span class="sc">Bill-ee</span>.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"He's got no friends—that are worth the mention;</p> +<p class="i2">He'll never be missed by his countaree,</p> +<p>He is a noosance, he'll be a riddance,</p> +<p class="i2">And we'll both get thanked for devouring he."</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>To guzzling <span class="sc">Bob</span> says gorging <span class="sc">Harty</span>,</p> +<p class="i2">"On this here pint we both agree—</p> +<p>This precious Bill <i>must</i> be spifflicated,</p> +<p class="i2">And we're both hungry, so let's eat he!"</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> + * * * * * + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"Oh, <span class="sc">Bill-ee</span>! we're going to kill and eat you,</p> +<p class="i2">So undo the button of your chemie!"</p> +<p>When <span class="sc">Bill</span> received this information,</p> +<p class="i2">He used his pocket-handkerchie.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>First let me say my Apologia,</p> +<p class="i2">Which Capting <span class="sc">Willyum</span> taught to me!</p> +<p>"Make haste, make haste!" says gorging <span class="sc">Harty</span>,</p> +<p class="i2">While <span class="sc">Bob</span> pulled out his snickersee.</p> +</div><div class="stanza"> + * * * * * + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>It's "a norrible tale," and I scarce feel equal</p> +<p class="i2">To telling it all as 'twas told to me.</p> +<p>Some other day you may learn the sequel</p> +<p class="i2">Of the sorrowful story of Little <span class="sc">Bill-ee</span>!</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"><a href="images/114-500.png"><img src="images/114-275.png" width="275" height="470" alt="HAPPY THOUGHT." /></a> +<h3 class="sans">HAPPY THOUGHT.</h3> + +<p><span class="sc">Why not import a Brigade of respectable "<i>Chiffonniers</i>" +from Paris, and let them loose on Hampstead Heath after a Bank Holiday?</span></p></div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h2 class="sans">TRUE FRENCH POLITENESS.</h2> + +<p>(<i>A Conversation not entirely Imaginary +in Siamese Territory.</i>)</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Scene</span>—<i>A Palace. Present, a +swarthy</i> Sovereign <i>and Smiling</i> Negociator.</p> + +<p><i>Negociator.</i> Sorry to trouble +you again, your Majesty, but +there are just a few supplementary +matters that require settlement.</p> + +<p><i>Sovereign.</i> Why, surely your +ultimatum has deprived me of everything?</p> + +<p><i>Neg.</i> Oh, dear no! For instance, you have foreign advisers.</p> + +<p><i>Sov.</i> And I presume I may act upon their advice?</p> + +<p><i>Neg.</i> Well, yes; only it will +be necessary to send them back +to Europe, and then stop their letters.</p> + +<p><i>Sov.</i> But this will be exceedingly arbitrary treatment.</p> + +<p><i>Neg.</i> Do you think so? Well, +at any rate it will be better +than a bombardment of your capital.</p> + +<p><i>Sov.</i> Have you any other demand to make?</p> + +<p><i>Neg.</i> Scarcely worth mentioning. But we must insist +that in future all work must be +given to artisans of our nationality.</p> + +<p><i>Sov.</i> And every other kind of contract?</p> + +<p><i>Neg.</i> That follows as a natural sequence.</p> + +<p><i>Sov.</i> Would you like anything more?</p> + +<p><i>Neg.</i> Not only like, but insist +upon having it. You must surrender your forts, disband your +army, and dispose of your fleet.</p> + +<p><i>Sov.</i> Come, that's impossible!</p> + +<p><i>Neg.</i> Not at all. It is a +course I would strongly recommend if you want to keep your +throne, and your subjects desire to preserve their lives.</p> + +<p><i>Sov.</i> Can you suggest anything else?</p> + +<p><i>Neg.</i> We never suggest. We +order. Well, yes, you will do +nothing without our approval, +or it will be the worse for you.</p> + +<p><i>Sov.</i> Why, this is absolute bullying!</p> + +<p><i>Neg.</i> Pray don't say that, your Majesty. +Although I speak plainly, I wish to treat you with every respect.</p> + +<p><i>Sov.</i> But if you have left me nothing, I +may as well abdicate in your favour. Shall I?</p> + +<p><span class="sc">Neg.</span> You will do as you like, your +Majesty. My instructions are to treat your +will as law. I have no wish to control your +actions, as I accept you as the constitutional +sovereign of an independent state. Do what +you please, and what pleases you will please +me also. My instructions are to give you +entire freedom of action—so long as that +freedom chimes in with our requirements!</p> + +<p class="ind2">[<i>Scene closes upon the pleasing proceedings.</i></p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p class="ind"><span class="sc">Private and Confidential.</span>—Mr. <span class="sc">Bigg +Stuffer</span> writes to us, "I see the Princess +and her daughters visited the grandest gorge +in Norway. Well, after a day's touring with +my friend <span class="sc">Grubber</span>, I think the pair of us +will show any traveller about the biggest gorge anywhere."</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page115" id="page115"></a>[pg 115]</span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"><a href="images/115-1200.png"><img src="images/115-380.png" width="380" height="484" alt="LITTLE BILL-EE!" /></a> +<h3>LITTLE BILL-EE!</h3> + +<h4>(<i>After Thackeray.</i>)</h4> +</div> +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>"OH, BILL-EE! WE'RE GOING TO KILL AND EAT YOU,</p> +<p class="i2">SO UNDO THE BUTTON OF YOUR CHEMIE."</p> +<p>WHEN BILL RECEIVED THIS INFORMATION,</p> +<p class="i2">HE USED HIS POCKET-HANDKERCHIE.</p> +</div></div> +<hr class="medium" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page116" id="page116"></a>[pg 116]</span> +<br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page117" id="page117"></a>[pg 117]</span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"><a href="images/117-900.png"><img src="images/117-400.png" width="400" height="478" alt="THE ABSTRACT AND THE CONCRETE." /></a> +<h3 class="sans">THE ABSTRACT AND THE CONCRETE.</h3></div> + +<p class="ind3"><i>Mamma (solemnly).</i></p> + +<div class="poem1"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>"'<span class="sc">But he lay like a Warrior taking his rest,</span></p> +<p class="i4"><span class="sc">With his Martial Cloak around him.</span>'"</p> + </div> </div> + +<p class="ind3"><i>Small Child.</i> "<span class="sc">And did he <i>really</i> get it from Marshall and +Snelgrove's, Mummy?</span>"</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h2>AN OLD "ADELPHI TRIUMPH!"</h2> + +<p>Passing through town from one country place to another. Sparse +attendance at club. Am regarded with surprise by the few members +present, all anxious to explain why it is they are not out of London. +"Autumn Session" splendid excuse for everybody generally. "Compelled +to stop in town, dear boy. Autumn Session, dash it!" "But +you're not in the House." "No," is the ready rejoinder, "if I +were I would 'pair' and fly to the moors. But business connected +with the House" (this given with that mysterious nod and wink +which together, or apart, are accounted as equally intelligible to a +blind horse), "business, my dear chap, detains me." Great chance +for the club bore to get an audience of one. The Ancient Mariner's +time is in the dead season, when he can stop the shootist <i>en route.</i> +I am wary, and avoid him. I will dine earlyish, and go to—let me +see, what hospitable house of theatrical entertainment is open? +The Adelphi. Here I can see <i>A Woman's Revenge</i>, as written by +<span class="sc">Henry Pettitt</span>. Quite so. Dine at 6.30, and see it all out, as I +hear the final scene, an Old Bailey Trial, realistic to the last degree, +is the great attraction. Clearly to understand the pleadings on +behalf of the prisoner at the Bar I must be conversant with the +details of the entire story. By 8.10 I am in my seat, regretting the +loss of ten minutes' worth of the plot. Regret soon ceases on finding +that I am among old friends acting a story more or less familiar to +every playgoer. The house is literally crowded in every part, and +this, too, on a far from cold night at the very end of August. Town +may be empty, but the Adelphi is full, and "The Heavenly Twins," +the Messrs. <span class="sc">Gatti</span>, must be rejoicing greatly.</p> + +<p>For a cool, calm, calculating villain, recommend me to Mr. <span class="sc">Charles +Cartwright</span>, the very best of gentlemanly scoundrels of modern +melodrama. He is admirable: but directly the honest, outspoken +Adelphi audience nose his villainy he has a bad time of it, as no +matter what he may say or do, no matter whether he speaks slowly +or quickly, runs off, saunters off, lounges in or hurries in, he is at +once met, and so to speak "countered," by a storm of fiercely indignant +hisses. Surely an actor whose <i>rôle</i> is sheer villainy of the +deepest dye must be able to command enormous terms, seeing what +a long training it must require to arrive at taking cursing for compliments! +An Adelphi audience personally hate and detest +the stage villain, but for all that, they couldn't do without +him, any more than can the melodramatic author or the Messrs. <span class="sc">Gatti</span>.</p> + +<p>After <i>the</i> villain, who certainly holds the first place in popular +unpopularity, comes the Heroic Boy, <span class="sc">Charles Warner</span>, all +heartiness and simplicity, a very "bounding Achilles;" and +next to him, the suffering heroine who defends herself with a +revolver, who is finally charged with murder, and gallantly +defended by the Heroic Boy, who, attired in wig, gown, and +bands, appears in the last scene of all that ends this eventful +his'tory as Counsel for the Defence, pleading for his wife before +a full court, much less crowded than is the Old Bailey generally, +and apparently far loftier, and much better ventilated. +The case does not attract considerable public attention, as there +is only a sparse attendance of nobodies in the gallery. Throughout +the drama Mr. <span class="sc">Gardiner</span> and Miss <span class="sc">Fanny Brough</span> capitally +represent the comic interest, which is brightly written, and +"goes" uncommonly well.</p> + +<p>The other scoundrel is only young in his villainy—a mere +amateur as compared with Mr. <span class="sc">Charles Cartwright</span>, and +were it not for the things he does and says, he might at any +moment be taken for a comedian neither light nor eccentric, +but a fairly all-round and superior sort of "<span class="sc">Charles</span> his +friend," whose lines fall in pleasant places as feeders. Poor +Junior Scoundrel! from the first he has no chance of appearing +either gay or light-hearted, as he is invariably at the mercy of +the Senior Rascal, and is finally shot by his own revolver which, +after being used against him on several occasions, for the poor +Junior Rascal never has a chance with it himself, falls into the +hands of aforementioned Senior Rascal, and so he goes to his +dramatic grave without having had one solitary opportunity +of making a light and airy speech, or doing anything to bring +down the house. He comes in for his share of the hissing, poor +fellow! as does also Miss <span class="sc">Alma Stanley</span>, in the costume of a +kind of Madame Mephistopheles—a female villain of the deepest +scarlet and black dye. She, too, is one of the trio only created +to be hooted at by an enthusiastically virtuous public. This +monster of female depravity, however, is not a bad sort, and +shows some signs of repentance—a repentance not too late, +though it is deferred till 10.50, when it just comes in time to +assist the plot and unite two loving hearts.</p> + +<p>There is a clever child in the story; far and away the best +child I remember to have seen, since the child in <i>A Man's +Shadow</i> at the Haymarket, who also figured in a trial and +gave evidence against a father (or mother, I forget which). +There was another wise child who did much the same sort +of thing and got its own father convicted in <i>Proof</i>, also at +the Adelphi. As to the trial scene (which seems to lack <span class="sc">Sullivan's</span> +setting of <span class="sc">Gilbert's</span> words), it seemed to me that Mr. +<span class="sc">Warner</span> was counsel, witnesses, prosecutor, and defender, all in +one, and, even considering the peculiar circumstances of the case, +anyone, from a purely professional point of view, would be inclined +to blame the presiding judge, Mr. <span class="sc">Howard Russell</span>, for such an +exhibition of Job-like patience, and for his quite unexampled toleration +of an advocate's irregularities. However, his summing up was +a model of conciseness and brevity, as it took for granted the jury's +perfect knowledge of facts and law, and its delivery occupied just +about a couple of minutes. Had Mr. <span class="sc">Warner</span> been the judge, and +Mr. <span class="sc">Howard Russell</span> the counsel, the above-mentioned allotment +of time would, probably, have been reversed. The jury, an intelligent-looking +set of men, utterly belied their appearance by acquitting +the prisoner in face of the most damning circumstantial evidence. +But as it was close on ten minutes past eleven, and as the author had +provided no sensational incident to follow, and had given no Fifth +Act to finish with, the decision of the Jury was much applauded by +the crowded audience in the auditorium, which then began to clear +out, highly satisfied with the excellent bill of fare provided for them +by Messieurs <span class="sc">Gatti</span>, the worthy restaurateurs of the old Adelphi Drama.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p><span class="sc">An M. P-erruquier.</span>—M. <span class="sc">Chauvin</span>, the theatrical perruquier, +the <span class="sc">Clarkson</span> of the Théâtre Français, has been recently elected +Deputy for St. Denis. He will not neglect his business, but will +get up all the heads of his parliamentary discourses in the afternoon, +and be ready to "get up" the heads of the house of <span class="sc">Molière</span> in the +evening. To those who oppose him in political matters he is prepared, +without any hair-splitting, to give a regular good wigging all +round. Should "our Mr. <span class="sc">Clarkson</span>" stand for some constituency +and be elected, he would of course appear in the House as the +representative of the old Whigs.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p class="center"><span class="sc">His Two Religions.</span>—Though "Mr. G." is a sound Church-of-England +man, yet has he recently shown himself an uncommonly strict Muzzle-man.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page118" id="page118"></a>[pg 118]</span> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h3 class="sans">JOHN BULL'S NAVAL VADE MECUM.</h3> +<div class="ind1"> +<p class="center">(<i>Prepared for his use by the +Authorities at the Admiralty.</i>)</p> + +<p><i>Question.</i> Does not England +possess the best possible fleet?</p> + +<p><i>Answer.</i> Certainly, and always has enjoyed that advantage.</p> + +<p><i>Q.</i> But do not the iron-clads comprising this fleet +frequently turn turtle?</p> + +<p><i>A.</i> Assuredly. In fact, whenever they have the smallest opportunity.</p> + +<p><i>Q.</i> And do not the guns with which the ships are +armed occasionally burst?</p> + +<p><i>A.</i> Not only occasionally, but frequently.</p> + +<p><i>Q.</i> And are not the commanders of the fleet sometimes guilty of errors of +judgment?</p> + +<p><i>A.</i> To be sure, and sometimes these errors of judgment +lead to absolute disaster.</p> + +<p><i>Q.</i> And are not the ships considerably undermanned +and some of the companies of inferior material?</p> + +<p><i>A.</i> Quite so. In fact, when there is a special +strain—manœuvres on a +large scale, or for a kindred reason—crews have to be +obtained from here, there, and everywhere.</p> + +<p><i>Q.</i> And is it not quite a question whether some +dozen of our first-rate men-of-war are practically valueless?</p> + +<p><i>A.</i> Well, scarcely a +question, because it is all +but certain that they are practically valueless.</p> + +<p><i>Q.</i> And isn't there bullying +in the <i>Britannia</i>, and a general laxity in the +training of young officers to take important commands?</p> + +<p><i>A.</i> Yes, but this is a +matter of small importance, +as all naval officers are +merely machines, and have +no right to think or act on +their own responsibility.</p> + +<p><i>Q.</i> And does not a commander-in-chief sometimes make a grave and obvious +mistake, and do not all his +subordinates, knowing the consequences, implicitly obey him?</p> + +<p><i>A.</i> Of course, for this is the rule of the service.</p> + +<p><i>Q.</i> And is it not a fact +that the navy is in want of the appliances to repair ships that have suffered +damage abroad?</p> + +<p><i>A.</i> Assuredly.</p> + +<p><i>Q.</i> And is not our officers' +acquaintance with the characteristics of the sea rather +indefinite and distinctly limited?</p> + +<p><i>A.</i> It is bound to be with +defective charts and other +false guides to naval knowledge.</p> + +<p><i>Q.</i> Then may it be justly assumed that we cannot +count upon our ships, guns, and commanders?</p> + +<p><i>A.</i> Why, certainly.</p> + +<p><i>Q.</i> And yet you declare +that England possesses the best possible fleet?</p> + +<p><i>A.</i> I do, and the little +drawbacks I have admitted +have no force in qualifying the assertion.</p> + +<p><i>Q.</i> Why have they not?</p> + +<p><i>A.</i> Because all the drawbacks exist in the piping +times of peace, and consequently the British navy +will prove its superiority +in the more dangerous days of war.</p> +</div> +<hr class="medium" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;"><a href="images/118-1100.png"><img src="images/118-380.png" width="380" height="487" alt="A PROMISING WITNESS!" /></a> +<h3 class="sans">A PROMISING WITNESS!</h3> + +<p><i>Scotch Counsel (addressing an Old Woman in a case before Judge and Jury).</i> +"<span class="sc">Pray, my good Woman, do you keep a Diary?</span>"</p> + +<p><i>Witness.</i> "<span class="sc">Naw, Sir, I kups a Whuskey Shop!</span>"</p></div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h2>NEW KING COAL CORRECTED.</h2> + +<p>In the sub-heading of <i>Mr. Punch's</i> Up-to-Date Nursery Rhyme, +"New King <span class="sc">Coal</span>" (August 19, p. 74), a very obvious error was +made in speaking of the colliers of Northumberland and Durham as +"on strike," when in fact they were only "considering the advisability" +of joining their Welsh "brothers" and Midland "mates" +in a collective stand against the coal-owners. Since then, +<i>Mr. Punch</i> is glad to know, they have "thought better of it," and +have <i>not</i> joined the strike—having, perhaps, given "thoughtful +consideration" to <i>Mr. Punch's</i> friendly conundrum. "The bearings" +of the New Nursery Rhyme "lie in its application," and are not +altered by the writer's slip of the pen, to which, however, +<i>Mr. Punch</i> thanks various vigilant readers for, very properly, +calling his attention.</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>To the men's Federation 'twas <i>Punchius</i> spoke:</p> +<p>"The Capitalist can drink fizz and can smoke;</p> +<p>And why should a lad who has eyes and can see,</p> +<p>Follow fools like a lamb, and lose much <i>£</i> <i>s.</i> <i>d.</i></p> +<p>Northumberland, Durham decline to come forth.</p> +<p>When strikes suit the south they may not suit the north;</p> +<p>So let every man who loves honour and right,</p> +<p>Essay <i>Arbitration</i> in lieu of brute fight!"</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p class="ind2"><span class="sc">No Doubt of It.</span>—Of course the admission detracts from our +"<span class="sc">Lika Joko's</span>" artistic skill, but evidently Mr. <span class="sc">Swift-to-Avenge +MacNeill</span> is a person very easily "drawn."</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p class="center">Coal Mine Owners have no big difficulties to contend with; in +this life they have only to meet <i>miner</i> troubles.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h2 class="sans">ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.</h2> + +<h3>EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M.P.</h3> + +<p><i>House of Commons, Monday.</i>—In Committee of Supply at last; +Home-Rule Bill laid aside for day or two awaiting Third Reading. +Meanwhile trifle of ten millions to be voted for the Navy. Members +generally, taking into account the long grind of the Session, regard +opportunity as favourable for making little holiday. Benches +occupied chiefly with Admirals, Captains, Secretaries to the +Admiralty and ex-Secretaries, with the <span class="sc">Chancellor of the +Exchequer</span> and his predecessor thrown in; also <span class="sc">Alpheus Cleophas</span>, +silent through debate on Home-Rule Bill, has a few words to say. +Imposing demonstration on bench behind ex-Ministers. <span class="sc">Hanbury</span> +in corner seat representing Youth at the Prow; at the other end sits +Experience at the Helm, the part taken (not for this time only) by +<span class="sc">Tommy Bowles</span>. Midway sits the Blameless Blushing <span class="sc">Bartley</span>. +Always blameless. To-night blushing, since Mr. G., accidentally +as casual observers take it, with prophetic soul as one of his hearers +well knows, referred to him just now as "the honourable baronet." +Effect upon <span class="sc">Bartley</span> striking and wholesome. Did not once thereafter, +up till stroke of midnight, open his lips. Sat in pleased +meditation, brooding over the prospect of a censorious world, +some day in the near future, hailing him as B. B. K., a title assumed +by the Unhappy Nobleman who long ago languished from the public ken.</p> + +<p>After midnight spell broken; <span class="sc">Bartley</span>, Bart., woke up, +vigorously and indiscriminately objecting to progress with any business +on paper. Meantime <span class="sc">Hanbury</span> and <span class="sc">Tommy</span> had made up for any +remissness on part of their esteemed colleague. <span class="sc">Tommy</span> arrived +early on the scene, deck-laden with cargo of Blue Books and Reports; +sufficient in weight and bulk to sink a less trim-built wherry. Piled them up on either side of him. "In laager," as <span class="sc">Ughtred +Shuttleworth</span> ruefully said, glancing across the table at his adversary.</p> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page119" id="page119"></a>[pg 119]</span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"><a href="images/119-1500.png"><img src="images/119-600.png" width="600" height="435" alt="DOOMED!" /></a> +<h3>DOOMED!</h3></div> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page120" id="page120"></a>[pg 120]</span> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 200px;"><a href="images/120a-490.png"><img src="images/120a-200.png" width="200" height="304" alt="Bowles as the Walrus." /></a> +<p class="center">Bowles as the Walrus.</p></div> + +<p>"Have looked forward to this day with keen anticipation," said +<span class="sc">Tommy</span>. "Have dropped a word +in season occasionally in debate +on Home-Rule Bill, I admit. But +it's to Committee of Supply I have +looked forward for full opportunity +of serving my <span class="sc">Queen</span> and +country. Now here we are in +Supply, and here we rest for a week +or two. I feel like the Walrus."</p> + +<p>"How's that?" I asked, fearing +for a moment that much talking +had made <span class="sc">Tommy</span> mad.</p> + +<p>"Don't you remember? Haven't +you been <i>Through a Looking-Glass</i>?</p> + +<div class="poem1"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>'The time has come,' the Walrus said,</p> +<p class="i2">'To talk of many things:</p> +<p>Of shoes, and sticks, and sealing-wax,</p> +<p class="i2">Of cabbages, and kings.</p> +<p>And why the sea is boiling hot—</p> +<p class="i2">And whether pigs have wings.'</p> + </div> </div> + +<p>You bet that somewhere in the +icy north that Walrus had been +accustomed to sit on the Opposition +benches in Committee of Supply. +Couldn't otherwise have so accurately described situation."</p> + +<p><i>Business done.</i>—In Committee of Supply.</p> + +<p><i>Tuesday.</i>—<span class="sc">Burnie</span> burning with curiosity to know whether 'tis +true, as boldly rumoured, that Duke of <span class="sc">Connaught</span> has been appointed +to chief command of Army at Aldershot? If so, on what grounds? +<span class="sc">Campbell-Bannerman</span> with strategic brevity answered that +appointment had been made in accordance with principle of selection +of the fittest. House, moderately full at moment, received the +explanation with much less enthusiasm than might have been +expected. This encouraged gentlemen below gangway to persist in +divers enquiries designed to illustrate, and perchance establish, +C.-B.'s position. <span class="sc">Alpheus Cleophas</span> joined in hunt; particularly +anxious to know what experience in real fighting the new +Commander had enjoyed? "He was in command of brigade in +Egyptian expedition," said C.-B., making an involuntary sword-pass +at <span class="sc">Alpheus</span>.</p> + +<p>"Yes," persisted that matter-of-fact person; "but will the right +hon. gentleman tell us how near or how far away from the real +fighting the Duke of <span class="sc">Connaught</span> stood?"</p> + +<p>No authentic record being in archives of War Office, <span class="sc">Secretary +of State</span> declined to commit himself to reply. Later, in Committee, +<span class="sc">Alpheus</span> staggered Civil Lord of the Admiralty with enquiry as to +steam-launch built at Portsmouth dockyard for Duke of <span class="sc">Connaught</span> +"at the expense of the people." "What has become of that +launch?" <span class="sc">Alpheus</span> asked, fixing <span class="sc">Robertson</span> with gleaming eye, +as if he suspected he might have it concealed somewhere about his +person. <span class="sc">Robertson</span> tremblingly answered that he knew nothing +about it. <span class="sc">Alpheus</span> not by any means mollified; means to bring up +whole subject in Committee on Army Estimates.</p> + +<p><i>Business done.</i>—Over four millions voted on Navy Estimates by +some twenty or thirty Members representing House of Commons.</p> + +<p><i>Wednesday.</i>—Mr. G. made fine speech to-day, moving Third +Reading of Home-Rule Bill. Benefited immensely by compression; +only an hour long; but full of meat and matter. Long grown +accustomed to these supreme efforts of Perennial Youth. A series +this Session which, in respect of eloquence, vitality, and force, will +stand comparison with any equal number delivered in what was +(erroneously it now turns out) regarded as his prime.</p> + +<p>More interesting as an episode was the reappearance on the Parliamentary +stage of a <span class="sc">Disraeli</span>. <span class="sc">Coningsby</span> has sat in House for full +Session; wisely abstained from imprudence of young Member of to-day, +who takes the oath at four o'clock and catches the <span class="sc">Speaker's</span> eye at +ten. +Now, in these closing days of Session, on seventy-ninth day debate +Home-Rule Bill, <span class="sc">Coningsby</span> modestly thinks "the time has come +when they <i>shall</i> hear me."</p> + +<p>House did so with pleasure. Only a small gathering. Mr. G. +absent, which was a pity. On the 7th of December, 1837, Mr. G., +sitting on back bench on Conservative side, lifted up "a fine head of +jet-black hair, always carefully parted from the crown downward to +his brow," to listen to an earlier maiden speech delivered by an +elderly young man, "ringed and curled like an Assyrian bull," his +violet velvet waistcoat garlanded with gold chains. Across the +bridge of fifty-six years a marvellous memory might have recalled +this figure had the ex-Member for Newark to-day been in his place +to look across the House at the dapper young man, with quiet self-possessed +manner, who, having considered this Government Bill, had +come to the conclusion that it is "a measure born in deceit, nurtured +in concealment, swaddled in the gag, and thrust upon the country +without the sanction of the people." The old Disraelian ring about +that phrase. House sees again <span class="sc">D'Israeli</span> the Younger; only +Younger than ever. But that is a reproach <span class="sc">Coningsby</span> may outlive.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 250px;"><a href="images/120b-720.png"><img src="images/120b-250.png" width="250" height="319" alt="Finished at Last!" /></a> +<p class="center">Finished at Last!</p></div> + +<p><i>Business done.</i>—Third Reading of Home-Rule Bill moved.</p> + +<p><i>Saturday</i>, 1.30 <span class="sc">A.M.</span>—Eighty-second day of debate on Home-Rule +Bill. After being "gagged" through all those days and nights of +ruthless talk, a House crowded on every Bench, filling galleries and +thronging Bar, opens wide its mouth and cheers announcement that +Third Reading been carried by 301 votes against 267. When House is +unanimous, its unanimity wonderful. Everybody agreed +to shout for joy—Ministerialists because majority was 34, Opposition because +it isn't 38.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, +<span class="sc">Toby</span>," said Mr. G., when I congratulated him on the end of the long +job; "I expect we're all glad it's over. Excuse me, but I just want to +drop the Bill in the post for the Lords."</p> + +<p>Crowd waiting outside Palace Yard caught sight of him as he +tripped along. A ringing cheer woke echoes of the stilly night; +Mr. G. escorted home in triumph to Downing Street.</p> + +<p>"Dear me!" said the Member for <span class="sc">Sark</span>. "Now I wonder how +many of those who are now cheering Mr. G. helped fifteen years ago +to break his windows?"</p> + +<p>The Member for Sark always thinks of cheerful things.</p> + +<p><i>Business done.</i>—Home-Rule Bill read Third Time.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h3>GOING TO THE COUNTRY.</h3> + +<h4>(<i>By another Sporting M.P.</i>)</h4> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>We have talked and divided and sat till we're ill,</p> +<p class="i2">At the mercy of every pestiferous bore.</p> +<p>It's a <span class="sc">Wilde</span> kind of thing to be saying, but still</p> +<p class="i2">Now like <i>Oliver Twist</i> we keep "asking for moor."</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>There are some who think politics naught but a game</p> +<p class="i2">'Twixt the Ins and the Outs that is played in the House,</p> +<p>But the game that we sigh for (and are we to blame?)</p> +<p class="i2">Is the covey of partridge or moor-loving grouse.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Now we're well in September, and work nearly finished,</p> +<p class="i2">I'm off, whilst the Commons get lost in the bogs</p> +<p>Of Supply and stay on with their zeal undiminished,</p> +<p class="i2">For the Country may go—like myself—to the dogs!</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p class="ind2"><span class="sc">Legal Promotion</span> (<i>Comment by an Indignant Radical</i>).—Lord +Justice <span class="sc">Bowen</span> made a Lord of Appeal, <i>vice</i> Lord <span class="sc">Hannen</span>, +resigned. +Very natural—there's no "Justice" in the House of Lords!</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h4>Love and Time; or, The Three Stages of Passion.</h4> + +<p class="ind2"> +["The question whether gifts bestowed during an engagement should be +returned when it is broken off has always been a debated one."—<i>James Payn.</i>] +</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Debated?</i> Sentiment must surely weep!</p> +<p class="i2">If passion, hot at first, should cool at last,</p> +<p>How <i>should</i> a loveless Future stoop to keep</p> +<p class="i2">The Present of the Past?</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p class="ind1">Why is a man who has dined a little too well at the "Star and +Garter" like <span class="sc">Richard the Third</span>?—Because he sees "six Richmonds +in the field."</p> + +<hr class="full" /> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. +105, September 9, 1893, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, CHARIVARI, SEPT 9, 1893 *** + +***** This file should be named 37560-h.htm or 37560-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/7/5/6/37560/ + +Produced by Malcolm Farmer, Lesley Halamek, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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