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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-14 20:12:29 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-14 20:12:29 -0700 |
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diff --git a/39332-h/39332-h.htm b/39332-h/39332-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d365221 --- /dev/null +++ b/39332-h/39332-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1973 @@ +<!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, or the London Charivari, October 7th 1893</title> + + <style type="text/css"> + + body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + p {text-align: justify;} + .ind {margin-left: 2em; margin-right: 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; margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%;} + .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;} + td.note {text-align: left; font-size: 0.9em; font-weight: normal; border: 1px dashed; padding: 1em; width: auto;} + ul.none {font-size: 1.0em; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; list-style-type: none; line-height: 150%} + 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;} + p.note {margin-left: 25%; margin-right: 20%;} + p.author {text-align: right; margin-top: -1em; margin-right: 2em;} + p.author1 {text-align: right; margin-top: -1em; margin-right: 16em;} + span.pagenum {position: absolute; left: 1%; right: 91%; font-size: 8pt; text-indent: 0;} + + .poem {margin-left: 35%; margin-right: 10%; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: left;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem p {margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem p.i2 {margin-left: 1em;} + .poem p.i4 {margin-left: 2em;} + .poem p.i6 {margin-left: 3em;} + .poem p.i8 {margin-left: 4em;} + .poem p.i10 {margin-left: 5em;} + .poem p.i12 {margin-left: 6em;} + .poem p.i14 {margin-left: 7em;} + .poem p.i16 {margin-left: 8em;} + .poem p.i36 {margin-left: 18em;} + + .poem1 {margin-left: 30%; margin-right: 10%; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: left;} + .poem1 .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem1 p {margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem1 p.i2 {margin-left: 1em;} + .poem1 p.i4 {margin-left: 2em;} + .poem1 p.i6 {margin-left: 3em;} + .poem1 p.i8 {margin-left: 4em;} + .poem1 p.i10 {margin-left: 5em;} + .poem1 p.i12 {margin-left: 6em;} + .poem1 p.i14 {margin-left: 7em;} + .poem1 p.i16 {margin-left: 8em;} + + .poem2 {margin-left: 25%; margin-right: 10%; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: left;} + .poem2 .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem2 p {margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem2 p.i2 {margin-left: 1em;} + .poem2 p.i4 {margin-left: 2em;} + .poem2 p.i6 {margin-left: 3em;} + .poem2 p.i8 {margin-left: 4em;} + .poem2 p.i10 {margin-left: 5em;} + .poem2 p.i12 {margin-left: 6em;} + .poem2 p.i14 {margin-left: 7em;} + .poem2 p.i16 {margin-left: 8em;} + + .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 +October 7, 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/license + + +Title: Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 105 October 7, 1893 + +Author: Various + +Release Date: April 1, 2012 [EBook #39332] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH *** + + + + +Produced by Malcolm Farmer, Lesley Halamek and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page157" id="page157"></a>[pg 157]</span> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<h1>Punch, or the London Charivari</h1> + +<h2>Volume 105, October 7th 1893</h2> + +<h4><i>edited by Sir Francis Burnand</i></h4> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<h2 class="sans">"DUE SOUTH!"</h2> +<blockquote> +<p><i>On Shore in Lulworth Cove.</i>—Odd names on this Southern coast. +The "Tilly Winn Caves,?" for example; likewise "Durdle Dhor," +or "Durdle Door." Who was <span class="sc">Matilda Winn</span>; familiarly styled. +"<span class="sc">Tilly</span>"? An old fisherman mending his nets,—he is evidently +"<i>The</i> Cove of Lulworth +Cove,"—gives me the following +tale, which I set +down as the</p></blockquote> + +<h4>LEGEND OF TILLY WINN <span class="sc">and</span> DURDLE D'OR.</h4> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 300px;"><a href="images/157-550.png"><img src="images/157-300.png" width="300" height="397" alt="An old fisherman mending his nets" /></a></div> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>The winsome Lady <span class="sc">Matilda Winn</span>,</p> +<p>Was a-ris-to-crati-cal-ly thin,</p> +<p class="i2">With dove-like eyes. Her golden hair</p> +<p class="i2">Was circled with gems so rich and rare.</p> +<p>White and pink was the healthy skin</p> +<p>Of the winsome Lady <span class="sc">Matilda Winn</span>.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>The Lord of <span class="sc">Lulworth</span>, a somnolent Earl,</p> +<p>Gave his moustache an extra curl</p> +<p class="i2">As he woke in the morn, and ope'd his eye,</p> +<p class="i2">A passing fair lady was passing by!</p> +<p>Then he swore to himself, "Through thick and thin,</p> +<p>I'll win the Lady <span class="sc">Matilda Winn</span>."</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>The Lord of <span class="sc">Lulworth</span>, that somnolent peer,</p> +<p>Gained the young lady's father's ear,</p> +<p class="i2">Who said, "My <span class="sc">Tilly</span> must me obey.</p> +<p class="i2">One week to-morrow shall be the day</p> +<p>When Lulworth's Earl shall become our kin,</p> +<p>By wedding my daughter! my <span class="sc">Tilly Winn</span>!"</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="sc">Matilda Winn</span> made signs from shore</p> +<p>To her pirate lover, bold <span class="sc">Durdle d'Or</span>.</p> +<p class="i2">Who came at night with ladder of rope,</p> +<p class="i2">For <span class="sc">Tilda Winn</span> had agreed to elope.</p> +<p>"We're privately married, so 'tis no sin,"</p> +<p>Quoth the beautiful Lady <span class="sc">Matilda Winn</span>.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>But the somnolent Earl and the testy Lord</p> +<p>Pursued and caught, ere they got aboard</p> +<p class="i2">The pirate vessel, the lovers twain,</p> +<p class="i2">Who leapt from the boat! And ne'er again,</p> +<p>When past and gone was the tempest's din,</p> +<p>Were seen <span class="sc">Durdle D'or</span> and his <span class="sc">Tilly Winn</span>.</p> + </div> </div> + +<p>There is as pleasant a little hostelrie in Lulworth Cove as is +to be found anywhere in a quiet sort of way, with lunch made +and provided, ready for all comers, be they never so plentiful. +Mind always on this coast command the lobster, he is <i>toujours +à vos ordres</i>. Those who can be content with the minimum of +variety in the way of amusement, and with the maximum of health +will assuredly find it here, where they can live the life of a sort +of luxurious <i>Robinson Crusoe</i>—bathing, fishing, walking—five or +six miles from the nearest railway station, and visited occasionally +by steamboats, which cannot come in quite close to shore, bringing +passengers, from whom tidings may be obtained of what is going on +in the outer world.</p> + +<p><i>Note—Of music on board.</i>—Almost every steamboat is accompanied +by a couple of instrumentalists—a harpist and a violinist. +These duettists do uncommonly well pecuniarily, and musically too, +considering the difficulties presented by the sea passages. One of +their more favourite performances is the <i>intermezzo</i> from the +<i>Rusticana</i>. Returning from Swanage the wind rather interferes +with the strings by attempting to unfasten the music paper. But +the violinist, well on the alert, has foreseen the probability arising +of there being "three sheets to the wind," and has nailed his colours +to the mast, that is, has tied the music-paper firmly on to the stand. +Still, in order to grapple with rude Boreas, he has to drop a few bars +of his part in the <i>intermezzo</i>, a proceeding that causes no sort of +inconvenience to the harpist, who ingeniously "slows off," and +adapts time and tune to the exceptional situation, until the wind, +being out of breath with its mischievous exertions, allows the fiddle-strings +to resume their part in the concert, and kindly permits the +two musicians to finish triumphantly. Their gallant efforts are well +rewarded, and the musical pilgrims collect <i>largesse</i> in a scallop-shell. +Back again to P'm'th.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h2>THEN AND NOW.</h2> + +<h3><span class="sc">Mr. Punch's Reply to the Premier.</span></h3> + +<blockquote><p> +["There is a popular periodical which, whenever it can, manifests the +Liberal sentiments by which it has been guided from the first—I mean the +periodical <i>Punch</i>. At that time I had the honour of figuring, if I remember +right, in a Cartoon of <i>Punch</i>, in connection with the rejection of the Paper +Duty, and a clever Cartoon it was, for I was represented as a little lad in +school, sitting (it was <i>standing</i>, Sir—<i>Mr. P.</i>) upon a small stool, and Lord +<span class="sc">Derby</span>—the Lord <span class="sc">Derby</span> of that day, who led the House of Lords—was +standing over me with an immense sheet of paper, made into a fool's-cap, +which he planted on my head."—<i>Mr. Gladstone at Edinburgh, Sept. 27, 1893.</i>]</p></blockquote> + +<p class="center"><i>See Cartoon, "The Paper Cap," in Punch</i> (p. 223, vol. xxxviii.), <i>June 2, 1860</i>. +</p> + +<div class="poem2"> <div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="sc">Thirty-three</span> years ago, my <span class="sc">William</span>, thirty-three years ago,</p> +<p>Yet you, as of yore, are well to the fore, and <i>Punch</i>, too is in front also;</p> +<p>And that paper cap was a popular crown, as <i>Punch</i> at the time suggested;</p> +<p>With the real fool's-cap, by a singular hap, "the Lord <span class="sc">Derby</span>" himself was invested.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Punch</i> "advised his friend <span class="sc">Gladstone</span> to look out for squalls, and likewise look out his umbrella."</p> +<p>(<i>Prophetic</i> that, but then <i>Mister P.</i> was always that sort of a fella!)</p> +<p>You have used a good many "umbrellas" since then, both Old and New (Castle) "brollies,"</p> +<p>As you needed a stout one in <span class="sc">Derby's</span> storm, so you will, my dear <span class="sc">William</span>, in <span class="sc">Solly's</span>.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>You have "had the honour of figuring," Sir, many times since then in my pages;</p> +<p>As I hope, my dear <span class="sc">William</span>, with all my heart, you'll continue to do—oh! for ages!</p> +<p>The same great designer of "clever cartoons" ("our Sir <span class="sc">John</span>") is as lively as ever,</p> +<p>And if <i>you</i>'ll give him suitable subjects, dear boy, <i>he</i>'ll still furnish cartoons quite as clever.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"Liberal sentiments"—"manifest still"—"whenever I can," you say? Well, Sir!</p> +<p><i>My</i> sentiments, <span class="sc">William</span>, are liberal <i>always</i>—but with a small <i>non-party</i> l, Sir!</p> +<p>"Liberal souls devise liberal things"—<i>you</i> know the authority grand, Sir!—</p> +<p>If your Liberal things are "liberal," always, by liberal things you shall stand, Sir.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>There! <i>Verb. sap.</i>, my long-honoured old chap! May a real fool's-cap crown you never,</p> +<p>But a Crown of Honour be yours at the end—which we'd wish to postpone, Sir, for ever!</p> +<p>Thanks very much for your genial touch. We have pleasant joint memories, many,</p> +<p>Since you fought the good fight on the Paper Duty and a Press at the Popular Penny!</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h3>Colourable.</h3> + +<blockquote><p> +["The banners of most of the Dutch regiments have hitherto been those +captured from the French at Waterloo in 1815, since when they have never +been renewed."—<i>Daily News, September 22.</i>] +</p></blockquote> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>The Dutch have had second-hand flags to fight under;</p> +<p>And so if "Dutch courage" mean borrowed, what wonder?</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p class="ind"><span class="sc">Hiss-trionic Query.</span>—Where exists the theatrical manager who, +utterly disregardless of tradition and reckless as to the omen of "the +Bird," would have produced a new piece for the first time <i>last +Friday night</i>, which was <i>Michaelmas Day</i>, the day sacred to the +Goose? We know of only one manager likely to be so bold, and he +would not be so audacious as to defy the combined omens of ill.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h3>Ichabod!</h3> + +<p class="center">(<i>As it generally seems now in Sculling Matches on the Thames.</i>)</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Row, brothers, row! But you don't row fast!</p> +<p>It's foreigner first, and Britisher last!</p> +<p><span class="sc">John</span> no longer can sing now, "I says the Bull"</p> +<p>(As in <i>Poor Cock Robin</i>), "<i>because I can pull!</i>"</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p class="ind1"><span class="sc">Coal and Drama.</span>—Mr. <span class="sc">John Hollingshead</span> says that the +Princess's Pit, which has been closed for a long time, will be at +once re-opened. The price has been generally accepted.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p class="center"><span class="sc">News of the Matabele.</span>—The "Impi" are "suffering from want +of supplies." They are impi-cunious.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p class="center"><span class="sc">The Most Gratuitous Form of Vice.</span>—Ad-vice!</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page158" id="page158"></a>[pg 158]</span> + +<h2 class="sans">THE REIGN OF RINGLETS.</h2> + +<p class="center">["It is announced that ringlets are to be worn again by ladies, and that side whiskers are coming in for fashionable men."—<i>Daily News.</i>]</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"><a href="images/158-1000.png"><img src="images/158-500.png" width="500" height="520" alt="" /></a></div> + +<div class="poem1"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Oh prospect Elysian! It called back a vision</p> +<p class="i2">Of youth, and those girls of <span class="sc">John Leech's</span>, <span class="sc">John Leech's</span>,</p> +<p>Of "corkscrews" that "doddle" all round a fair noddle,</p> +<p class="i2">Blue eyes and flushed cheeks like ripe peaches, ripe peaches.</p> +<p>I think of sweet <span class="sc">Nelly</span>, whose curls, like a jelly,</p> +<p class="i2">Shook soft as she "spooned" me at croquet, at croquet.</p> +<p>But then came lawn tennis old fashion to menace,</p> +<p class="i2">And croquet and curls were dubbed "pokey," dubbed "pokey."</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>But ringlets! O rapture! One spiral to capture</p> +<p class="i2">Of <span class="sc">Nell's</span> many hundreds and snip it, and snip it,</p> +<p>Was simply delightful. She'd swear she "looked frightful"</p> +<p class="i2">As into my bosom I'd slip it, I'd slip it.</p> +<p>But one among dozens, on heads like my cousin's,</p> +<p class="i2">Love-larceny was, and not robbery, robbery.</p> +<p>If now I dared sever from "tousle-mops" clever</p> +<p class="i2">One tress, there would be a rare bobbery, bobbery.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Ah me! how times alter! My scissors would falter</p> +<p class="i2">In trying a <i>Rape of the Lock to-day, Lock</i> to-day.</p> +<p><span class="sc">Nell's</span> trim buxom body, with curls thick and "doddy,"</p> +<p class="i2">Would strike the æsthete with a shock to-day, shock to-day.</p> +<p>You only see ringlets on some "poor old thing." Let's</p> +<p class="i2">Be kind to the <i>passé</i>, but primness, but primness,</p> +<p>With "winkle" curls shaking, is <i>not</i> very taking,</p> +<p class="i2">When linked with old-spinster-like slimness,—like slimness.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>I know an "old Biddy"—her name is Miss <span class="sc">Twiddy</span>—</p> +<p class="i2">Who revels in ringlets curled carefully, carefully.</p> +<p>Oh how they doddle around her old noddle!</p> +<p class="i2">She's "songful," a taste which I share fully, share fully.</p> +<p>But when she will warble of Halls—they're of Marble,—</p> +<p class="i2">Or Meetings by Moonlight, I'm sorry, I'm sorry</p> +<p>To see curls, and passion, so out of the fashion,</p> +<p class="i2">Made mock of by "Up-to-date" <span class="sc">Florry</span>, -date <span class="sc">Florry</span>.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>But ringlets reviving? Miss <span class="sc">Twiddy's</span> long striving</p> +<p class="i2">For "Passion's Response" mayn't be hopeless, be hopeless.</p> +<p>In "Days of Pomatum" (for that's how I date 'em)</p> +<p class="i2">They used more Macassar, and soap less, and soap less!</p> +<p>Inopportune rain then put things out of train then,</p> +<p class="i2"><span class="sc">Nell's</span> mop, how a shower would spoil it, would spoil it!</p> +<p>Curl-papers, concealing—but there, I'm revealing</p> +<p class="i2">The mysteries dark of the toilet, the toilet.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>But ringletted friskers, and mutton-chop whiskers,</p> +<p class="i2">For "buns" and blue gills closely shaven, -ly shaven!</p> +<p>'Tis sheer revolution! High Art's contribution</p> +<p class="i2">Will be first to croak <i>à la</i> raven, <i>la</i> raven.</p> +<p>Will girls then all giggle with ringlets a-wriggle,</p> +<p class="i2">As most of the maids of my youth did, my youth did?</p> +<p>Will male "mutton-chopper," scowl pompously proper,</p> +<p class="i2">Like <i>Dombey</i>—as <i>our</i> sires in sooth did, in sooth did?</p> + </div> </div> +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h2>LIFE (AND DEATH) IN SOUTH AMERICA.</h2> + +<p class="center">(<i>Diary of the week's doings, from our own Correspondent on the Spot.</i>)</p> + +<p><i>Monday.</i>—Matters are still very unsettled, and it will take some +time before public confidence is entirely restored. The policy of the +President in defending the Tramways Extension Bill from the +citadel with grape-shot is condemned as an unwise stretch of the +provisions of the Constitution. It has caused a reorganisation in +the Cabinet, the Secretary for the Interior having resigned, taking +with him six regiments of cavalry, four battalions of infantry, and +three brigades of artillery. This desertion has naturally lessened +the chance of the Employers' Liability Amendment Bill passing this +session except at the point of the bayonet. The division on the +first reading of the Telegraph State Construction Bill was Ayes, +50 killed, 3 wounded; Noes, 12 killed, 172 wounded. Should this +measure pass its second reading it will be opposed from barricades +in committee.</p> + +<p><i>Tuesday.</i>—Trade shows some signs of revival, but the continual +bombardment of the Stock Exchange by the opposition fleet in the +offing causes considerable confusion and annoyance. The Minister +of War has retired into a parliamentary cave accompanied by the +militia. It is considered not improbable that this member of the +ministry may throw his ammunition into the scale against his +colleagues. The Pauper Property Insurance Bill has not much +chance of passing during the present year, unless its supporters can +bombard the capital. The second reading of the Lunacy Acts +Consolidation Bill was passed with the assistance of three ironclads +and a torpedo catcher. In spite of the pacific turn that events are now +taking, some of the older inhabitants express considerable uneasiness.</p> + +<p><i>Wednesday.</i>—The British Consul has given notice that he will +hold the ministry responsible for the damage done to his residence. +On account of the bombardment he and his family have been forced +to reside in a distant greenhouse. The remainder of the consulate +is razed to the ground. This being the President's birthday, the +hall of the <i>bureau</i> has been crowded with infernal machines sent +as presents. The loud ticking of the concealed machinery has +caused several complaints to be made to the <i>concierge</i>. The President +and his family have returned to the seaside. They are being +hotly pursued by a large body of cavalry, infantry, and artillery. +However, on the whole the outlook is brighter, and the trains and +omnibuses have recommenced running.</p> + +<p><i>Thursday.</i>—The President has returned to the capital, as the +lodgings he had taken at the seaside were discovered by the rebel +fleet, and bombarded. The business of the session progresses +slowly but surely. The Minister for War, with the assistance of +the Militia, has secured the passing of the vote dealing with his +department. He led the charge in person that carried the "Ayes" +Division Lobby. If it were not for the constant bombardment of +all the principal buildings, and the occasional slaughter of Members +of Parliament, things would be almost normal. There is no doubt +that the outlook is peaceful.</p> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page159" id="page159"></a>[pg 159]</span> + +<p><i>Friday.</i>.—Things still quieting down. +Traffic in the main thoroughfares is suspended, +because the roads are required for +charges of cavalry, and the squares are +now used for shell practice. The fleet have +approached closer. This, of course, causes +some additional damage; but as the populace +can now hear the bands of the various ships +during the pauses in the bombardment, the +arrangement is rather popular than otherwise. +The Government have apologised to +the British Consul for having blown up his +house and stables. The incident consequently +is at an end. Several Members of the Cabinet +have accepted the Consul's invitation to +lunch.</p> + +<p><i>Saturday.</i>.—The Revolution is practically +at an end. The fleet are still bombarding +the forts, and the military charge every ten +minutes the populace. The Judges, too, find +cause for annoyance in the constant invasion +of the judicial bench by armed artisans. +Most of the fashionable part of the city is in +flames, but this is a detail. However, taking +all things into consideration, peace and +tranquillity may be said to be now restored. +Of course they are not exactly the peace and +tranquillity of Europe, but they are what +people are accustomed to over here. Should +anything of further importance transpire it +shall be wired immediately; but to all +appearance the insurrection is at an end.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"><a href="images/159-1500.png"><img src="images/159-600.png" width="600" height="372" alt="HOW TO SPEND A PLEASANT EVENING!" /></a> +<h2 class="sans">HOW TO SPEND A PLEASANT EVENING!</h2> + +<p>["For the purposes of this production the orchestra has been enlarged, so that +some of the instrumentalists have to sit among the audience in the stalls." +<i>Daily Paper.</i>]</p></div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h3>TO THE CONTESTANTS IN THE COAL WAR.</h3> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Oh, stint your rage, abate your rash insanity!</p> +<p class="i2">Fight not like fiends, as brother men agree;</p> +<p>And be "the sweet, sad music of humanity,"</p> +<p class="i8">Played in the <i>miner</i> key!</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h2>THE IDEAL CONVERSATION.</h2> + +<blockquote><p> +[Miss <span class="sc">Emily Faithfull</span>, in the <i>Ladies' Pictorial</i>, +suggests that girls should always learn up +some contribution to make to the family conversation +at table.] +</p></blockquote> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Miss <span class="sc">Faithfull</span>, let me send a line</p> +<p class="i2">Of most sincere congratulation</p> +<p>On your magnificent design</p> +<p class="i2">To raise the tone of conversation;</p> +<p>The plan you kindly recommend</p> +<p class="i2">Rejoices many a careful mother,</p> +<p>And, for the future, we intend,</p> +<p class="i2">As runs the phrase, "To use no other."</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>At breakfast-time we used to talk</p> +<p class="i2">On topics commonplace together,</p> +<p>Designed a picnic, planned a walk,</p> +<p class="i2">And even criticised the weather;</p> +<p>We gossiped in an idle way,</p> +<p class="i2">And made in turn our several guesses</p> +<p>About the age of Mrs. A.,</p> +<p class="i2">The price of Lady X.'s dresses.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>But now, according to your scheme,</p> +<p class="i2">Each carefully-instructed maiden</p> +<p>Discourses on a worthy theme,</p> +<p class="i2">And comes with fact and figures laden;</p> +<p>To-day, for instance, <span class="sc">Muriel</span> gave</p> +<p class="i2">Some gems from <span class="sc">Cicero's</span> orations,</p> +<p>While <span class="sc">Maud</span> reviewed, in language grave,</p> +<p class="i2">The Lower Tertiary Formations.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>And <span class="sc">Kate</span>—the mischief-making <span class="sc">Kate</span></p> +<p class="i2">Who formerly would merely prattle—</p> +<p>Described, in accents most sedate,</p> +<p class="i2">The use of cavalry in battle.</p> +<p>In fact, by this most noble plan,</p> +<p class="i2">Which on your kind advice we're using,</p> +<p>Our conversation never can</p> +<p class="i2">Deserve your censure as amusing!</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h2>THE FOOL WITH A GUN.</h2> + +<p class="center">(<i>To the Tune of the "Temptation of St. Antony."</i>)</p> + +<div class="poem1"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>There are many fools that worry this world,</p> +<p class="i2">Fools old, and fools who're young;</p> +<p>Fools with fortunes, and fools without,</p> +<p>Fools who dogmatise, fools who doubt,</p> +<p>Fools who snigger, and fools who shout,</p> +<p>Fools who never know what they're about,</p> +<p class="i2">And fools all cheek and tongue;</p> +<p>Fools who're gentlemen, fools who're cads,</p> +<p>Fools who're greybeards, and fools who're lads;</p> +<p>Fools with manias, fools with fads,</p> +<p>Fools with cameras, fools with tracts,</p> +<p>Fools who deny the stubbornest facts,</p> +<p>Fools in theories, fools in acts;</p> +<p class="i2">Fools who write Theosophist books,</p> +<p class="i2">Fools who believe in Mahatmas and spooks;</p> +<p>Fools who prophesy—races and Tophets—</p> +<p>Bigger fools who believe in prophets;</p> +<p>Fools who quarrel, and fools who quack;</p> +<p>In fact, there are all sorts of fools in the pack,</p> +<p class="i2">Fools fat, thin, short, and tall;</p> +<p>But of all sorts of fools, the Fool with a Gun</p> +<p>(Who points it at someone—of course, "in fun"—</p> +<p>And fools around till chance murder is done)</p> +<p class="i2">Is the worsest fool of them all!</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p class="ind">"<span class="sc">Being at Charges.</span>"—A subject for +companion picture to the well-known "<i>The +Last Charge at Waterloo</i>" would be "<i>The +Last Charge of the Archbishop of Canterbury</i>." +For ourselves, in preference to +either the ecclesiastical or the military view +of a charge, we like to hear the Lord Mayor's +toast-master call out, "Gentlemen! <i>Charge</i>—your +glasses!!"</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page160" id="page160"></a>[pg 160]</span> + +<h2 class="sans">UNDER THE ROSE.</h2> + +<h3>(<i>A Story in Scenes.</i>)</h3> + +<p><span class="sc">Scene VI.</span>—<i>The Breakfast-room at Hornbeam Lodge.</i></p> + +<p><span class="sc">Time—8.40 A.M.</span> <i>on Saturday morning</i>. Mrs. <span class="sc">Toovey</span> <i>is +alone</i>, <i>making the tea</i>.</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. Toovey</i> (<i>to herself</i>). I cannot think what has come to +<span class="sc">Theophilus</span>. He has come down late for prayers every morning +this week. Such a bad example for any household, and Cook is +beginning to notice it—I could see it in her eye as she came in. +He is so strange in his manner, too; if I did not know he was +absolutely incapable of—but <i>why</i> did he secrete that abominable +programme of <span class="sc">Charles's</span>? He <i>said</i> he kept it with a view to +making inquiries, but I have heard nothing about them since. +(<i>Aloud</i>, <i>to</i> <span class="sc">Phœbe</span>, <i>who brings in dishes and two +letters</i>.) Oh, the +post, <span class="sc">Phœbe</span>? it's late this morning. (<span class="sc">Phœbe</span> <i>goes +out</i>.) One for +Pa, and one for me—from <span class="sc">Althea</span>—it was certainly time she wrote. +(<i>Reading her letter.</i>) "Delightful visit ... the <span class="sc">Merridews</span> so +kind ... so much to see and do ... back on Monday ... no +time for more at present." Not a word of where she's been or what +she's seen—not at <i>all</i> the letter a girl should write to her mother! +I wonder whom Pa's letter is from? (<i>She turns it over.</i>) What's +this? "Eldorado Palace of Varieties" +printed on the flap! Why, +that's <span class="sc">Charles's</span> music-hall! Then +Pa <i>has</i> been making inquiries after +all. As <span class="sc">Charles's</span> aunt I have a +right to—— (<i>She is about to open +the envelope.</i>) No, I'd better not, +I hear Pa's hum—he will be sure +to tell me what they say.</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Toovey enters</i> (<i>humming, to +give himself a countenance</i>). Ha, +so you've had prayers without me? +Quite right—quite right.</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. Toov.</i> (<i>severely</i>). Anything +<i>but</i> right, Pa. You ought to have +been down long ago. I heard you +brushing your hair as I went out.</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Toov.</i> (<i>feebly</i>). It was very +tiresome, my love, but my collar-stud +got under the wardrobe, and I +couldn't get it out for ever so long.</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. Toov.</i> Your things have +taken to behave in a very extraordinary +manner, Pa. Yesterday +it was your braces!</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Toov.</i> I—I believe it <i>was</i> +my braces yesterday. Ah well, we +must bear with these little vexations—bear +with them! (<i>To himself.</i>) +A letter for me? From the +Eldorado! It's the box! I—I +hoped Mr. <span class="sc">Curphew</span> had forgotten.</p> + +<p class="ind2">[<i>He thrusts it into his pocket unopened, +in a flurry.</i></p> + +<p><i>Mrs. Toov.</i> Is there any reason +why you shouldn't read your letter, +Pa? It may be of importance.</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Toov.</i> I—I don't think it is, my love—particularly. It—it +will keep till after breakfast. What is this—kedgeree? Ha! I've +come down with quite an appetite—quite a famous appetite!</p> + +<p class="ind2">[<i>He pecks at his kedgeree ostentatiously.</i></p> + +<p><i>Mrs. Toov.</i> Perhaps I'd better ring and have two more eggs +boiled if you're so hungry as all that, Pa?</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Toov.</i> (<i>in terror at this suggestion</i>). Not for me, my love, not +for me. I—I've made an excellent breakfast!</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. Toov.</i> Then now, Pa, perhaps you will be at leisure to read +your letter. I am curious to know what correspondence you can +possibly have with an Eldorado Palace.</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Toov.</i> (<i>to himself</i>). Oh, dear me, she's seen the flap! Why +do they put the name outside—so thoughtless of them! (<i>He opens +the letter.</i>) Yes, it <i>is</i> the order. I <i>can't</i> show it to +<span class="sc">Cornelia</span>! +(<i>Aloud.</i>) I—I told you I was making inquiries.</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. Toov.</i> About <span class="sc">Charles's</span> habits? So you've written to the +Manager, without consulting me! Well—what does he say?</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Toov.</i> (<i>to himself</i>). I don't like these deceptions—but I +<i>must</i> +consider poor <span class="sc">Charles</span>. (<i>Aloud.</i>) Oh—hum—very little, my love, +very little indeed, but satisfactory—most satisfactory—he's no +complaint to make of <span class="sc">Charles</span>—none whatever!</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. Toov.</i> As if it was likely you would get the truth from such +a tainted source! Let me see his letter.</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Toov.</i> (<i>pocketing the letter again, hastily</i>). No, my dear love, +you must excuse me—but this is a private and confidential communication, +and—and, in common fairness to <span class="sc">Charles</span>—I'll trouble +you for another cup of tea. (<i>To himself.</i>) It's for this very night. +I've a great mind not to go. How am I to make an excuse for +getting away? (<i>Aloud.</i>) I've half a mind to run up some time, +and—and look in on <span class="sc">Charles</span>.</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. Toov.</i> (<i>to herself</i>). If <span class="sc">Charles</span> is misconducting +himself, I +ought to know—and I <i>will</i>, sooner or later. I'm sure <span class="sc">Theophilus</span> +is keeping something from me. (<i>Aloud.</i>) I've only put in one +lump, Pa. You may find him at home if you went up this +afternoon.</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Toov.</i> (<i>relieved</i>). An excellent suggestion, my love. I +<i>will</i> +go this afternoon. He—he might ask me to stay and dine with +him; so if—if I don't come back, you'll know where I am—eh? +You won't be anxious?</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. Toov.</i> (<i>to herself</i>). He's trying to spare me, but I can see +he's <i>most</i> uneasy about <span class="sc">Charles</span>. (<i>Aloud.</i>) Well, Pa, I +don't like +the idea of your dining out without me—it will be the first time for +years—but still, I shall have to be away myself this evening; +there's a special meeting of the Zenana Mission Committee, and +Mrs. <span class="sc">Cumberbatch</span> made such a point of my attending—so, if you +feel you really <i>ought</i> to see <span class="sc">Charles</span>——</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Toov.</i> Oh. I <i>do</i>, my dear. He—he wants looking after. And +perhaps, if I could have a little quiet, serious talk with him, after +dinner—or over a game of draughts. (<i>To himself.</i>) What a +dissembler I've become; but I <i>do</i> +mean to look in on <span class="sc">Charles</span>, before +I go to this Eldorado place, and +there <i>may</i> be time for a game of +draughts!</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. Toov.</i> You would learn +more, <span class="sc">Theophilus</span>, by putting a +few questions to his landlady. But +remember, when you come back, +I shall insist on being told everything—<i>everything</i>, +mind!</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Toov.</i> Oh, of course, my +love, of course. (<i>To himself.</i>) If +my visit proves satisfactory, I—I +might tell her. It will depend on +how I feel—entirely on how I feel.</p> + +<p class="center">END OF SCENE VI.</p> + +<p style="margin-top: 2em;">SCENE VII.—<i>The Drawing-room.</i> +<i>It is after luncheon.</i> Mrs. <span class="sc">Toovey</span> +<i>is sitting knitting</i>.</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Toovey</i> (<i>entering, in a frock-coat, +carrying a tall hat</i>). Er—<span class="sc">Cornelia</span>, +my love, you don't happen +to know where the—the latchkey +is kept, do you?</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. Toovey.</i> The latchkey, +<span class="sc">Theophilus</span>! One has never been +required in this house <i>yet</i>. What can +you possibly want with a latchkey?</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Toov.</i> (<i>to himself</i>). These +performances go on till a somewhat +advanced hour, I've no doubt, +and I might feel it my duty to +stay as long as—— (<i>Aloud.</i>) I—I +only thought it would save <span class="sc">Phœbe</span> +sitting up for me, my dear.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 450px;"><a href="images/160-800.png"><img src="images/160-450.png" width="450" height="513" alt="'Eldorado Palace of Varieties. Admit Mr. Toovey and Party to Box C'" /></a> +<p>"Eldorado Palace of Varieties. Admit Mr. Toovey and Party to +Box C. This portion to be retained."</p></div> + +<p><i>Mrs. Toov.</i> You need not trouble yourself about that, <span class="sc">Theophilus</span>. +I will sit up for you, if necessary.</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Toov.</i> (<i>quaking</i>). But you forget your Zenana Mission, my +love; you will be out yourself this evening!</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. Toov.</i> (<i>severely</i>). I shall be back by a reasonable hour, +Pa,—and +so will <i>you</i>, I should hope.</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Toov.</i> I hope so, my love, I'm sure, but—but I may have a +good deal to say to <span class="sc">Charles</span>, you know.</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. Toov.</i> (<i>to herself</i>). There's some mystery about that wretched +boy, I'm certain. If I could only find out what was in that letter. +I wonder if it's in Pa's pocket—I'll soon see. (<i>Aloud.</i>) Turn round, +Pa. Ah, I <i>thought</i> as much; one of your coat-tail buttons is as +nearly off as it can be!</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Toov.</i> (<i>innocently</i>). Dear me! My Sunday coat, too. I never +observed it. Could you just fasten it on a little more securely?</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. Toov.</i> If you take off your coat. I can't do it with you +prancing about in front of me, Pa. (<i>Mr. T. takes off his coat.</i>) +Now, I can't have you in my drawing-room in your shirtsleeves—suppose +somebody called! Go into your study and wait there till +I've done. (<i>Mr. T. departs submissively.</i>) Now if the letter isn't +in one of these pockets, it must be in—— (<i>She discovers the envelope.</i>) +There it is. <i>Now</i> I shall know what <span class="sc">Charles</span>—— I'm sure his poor +dear mother would wish to be informed. (<i>She opens the letter.</i>) +"Eldorado Palace of Varieties. Admit Mr. <span class="sc">Toovey</span> and party to +Box C. This portion to be retained." (<i>She tears off a perforated +slip.</i>) I <i>will</i> retain it! So <span class="sc">Theophilus</span> has been deceiving +me—<i>this</i> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page161" id="page161"></a>[pg 161]</span> +is his business with <span class="sc">Charles</span>! <i>This</i> is why he kept that +programme! +And he's allowing himself to be misled by his own +nephew! They're going to this music-hall to-night, together! +He shall <i>not</i> go—never while I—stop, let me think—yes, he <i>shall</i> +go—he +shall fill up the measure of his iniquity, little dreaming that I +have the clear proof of his deceit! (<i>She thrusts the slip she has +torn off into her workbox, and replaces the envelope with the +remainder of the order in the pocket.</i>) There. He won't notice +that anything is missing. He's coming back. I must control +myself, or he will be on his guard.</p> + +<p class="ind2">[<i>She pretends to secure the button with unsteady fingers.</i></p> + +<p><i>Mr. Toov.</i> (<i>entering</i>). <span class="sc">Cornelia</span>, my love, don't trouble to +do +more than is absolutely necessary to keep the button secure—because +I'm rather in a hurry. It doesn't matter, so long as it looks +respectable!</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. Toov.</i> (<i>with an effort to restrain her feelings</i>). I daresay it +is quite respectable enough, Pa, for where you are going.</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Toov.</i> Quite, indeed, my dear. But it would never have done +to go and call on <span class="sc">Charles</span> with a button off the back of my coat—no, +no. It was fortunate you noticed it in time, my love.</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. Toov.</i> I hope it will prove so, <span class="sc">Theophilus</span>. (<i>To +herself.</i>) +And this monster of duplicity is Pa! Oh, I wish I could tell him +what I thought of him, but not yet—we will have our reckoning +later!</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Toov.</i> (<i>after putting on his coat</i>). Then I think I must be +going. Any message I can take to <span class="sc">Charles</span>?</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. Toov.</i> Yes, tell him that I trust he will profit by his good +Uncle's example, and that I expect him to dinner on Monday. I may +require to have a serious talk with him myself, if your account of +this evening is not perfectly satisfactory.</p> + +<p><i>Mr. Toov.</i> I'll tell him, my love, but there's no reason to make +yourself uneasy about <span class="sc">Charles</span>—he'll behave himself—he'll behave +himself. (<i>To himself, as he goes out.</i>) I must go and see <span class="sc">Charles</span> +now. Oh dear, I do feel so apprehensive about this visit to the +Eldorado.—If I could put it off.—But I can't continue to hold those +shares without some knowledge—— And Mr. <span class="sc">Curphew</span> made such a +point of my going. No, I must go. I—I don't see how I can get out +of it!</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. Toov.</i> (<i>alone</i>). There he goes, looking so meek and lamblike! +Who would suspect, to see him, that that black coat of his was buttoned +round a whited sepulchre? Oh, Pa, Pa! That after all these years +of blameless life you should suddenly be seized with a depraved desire +for unhallowed amusement like this! While I am at the <span class="sc">Cumberbatches</span>, +engaged in discussing the affairs of the Zenana Mission, you +and <span class="sc">Charles</span> will be—— Stop. How do I know he is going with +<span class="sc">Charles</span> at all? If he is capable of deceiving me in one respect, why +not in all? (<i>She takes out the slip and looks at it.</i>) Mr. <span class="sc">Toovey</span> +and +party! <i>What</i> party? May not Pa have been leading a—a double life +all these years for anything I can tell? He is going to the Eldorado +to-night with <i>somebody</i>—that's clear. Who is it? I shall never be +easy till I know. And why should I not? There's the meeting, +though. I might have a headache. Yes, that will do. (<i>She goes to +her writing-table.</i>) No, I won't write. I can make some excuse to +<span class="sc">Eliza</span> when I see her. And instead of going to the +<span class="sc">Cumberbatches</span> +this evening, I can easily slip up to Waterloo and ask my +way to this place. There will be no difficulty in that. Yes, I will +go, whatever it costs me. And when Pa goes into this Box C of +his, he will find his "party" is larger than he expected!</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="sc">End of Scene VII.</span></p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h2>PLAYING THE DEUCE AT THE HAYMARKET.</h2> + +<p>Of course, to speak with theological accuracy, <i>The Tempter</i>, being +the "very devil incarnate," ought to be "damned." That this has +not been his fate at the Haymarket is owing to Mr. <span class="sc">Beerbohm Tree</span> +primarily, to his company secondarily, and to the author remotely. +To treat in any fresh dramatic form the story of <i>Faust and Marguerite</i>, +a dramatist must be the subject of a special and peculiar +inspiration. Now what this play lacks is inspiration.</p> + +<p>What in this piece <span class="sc">Enry Hauthor Jones</span> mistook for the "divine +afflatus" is mere long-windedness. His <i>Tempter</i> may be an entertainer +assuming various disguises, and more and more like himself +on every occasion, but a real devil he is not, except so far as Mr. +<span class="sc">Tree</span> with wonderful art makes him; and, even then, the question +is forced upon us, would any devil with any sort of self-respect, +pick up a cross-handled dagger just as if it were an ordinary walking-stick, +and politely return it to its owner? This is the first time that +a devil on the stage hasn't shuddered and grovelled at the sight of +a cross-handle. Again, how far more effective would some of the +supernatural movements of this irreclaimably wicked personage have +been had they been performed by means of some clever arrangement +of "wires," such as that with which Mlle. <span class="sc">Ænea</span> used to astonish +the public? Where are the stage mechanists who assisted <span class="sc">George +Conquest</span>, that unique representative of sprites and gnomes, who +achieved success by "leaps and bounds?"</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 300px;"><a href="images/161-600.png"><img src="images/161-300.png" width="300" height="356" alt="'Arbor in Arbore.' A Wood Engraving." /></a> +<p class="center">"Arbor in Arbore." A Wood Engraving.</p></div> + +<p>Fortunately the piece does not depend for its success on mere +mechanism, but on the acting of Mr. <span class="sc">Tree</span>, which is in all respects +admirable in its diabolical variety; much depends, too, on Mrs. <span class="sc">Tree</span>, +who is charming and sympathetic in a small part. Mr. <span class="sc">Terry</span>, who +occasionally, in tone and look, reminds me of <span class="sc">Henry Irving</span>, contributes +his share towards the general histrionic excellence, as also does +Miss <span class="sc">Julia Neilson</span>, who in tone and action frequently makes me +wish that once and for ever she would give up attempting an imitation +of <span class="sc">Ellen Terry</span>. But be it said that the acting of this couple +is remarkably good in the love scene, as it is also in the very trying +death scene, which could have been so easily and so utterly ruined.</p> + +<p>The author is at his best in his curt, cynical sentences. Epigrams +are few and far between in the play, but what there are go to the +devil, that is, are given to the "Old Gentleman," with the best +possible result. <span class="sc">Enry Hauthor</span> is at his worst in the long +speeches, not one of which, no matter to whom it may fall, but would +be the better for cutting. Of course, suggestions for abbreviating the +<i>Tempter</i>'s part would not be favourably entertained by the principal +actor, as, naturally enough, any Tree objects to being cut down: and as +his personal success is too decided for him to be "cut up," the Tree +will have to remain, though lopping and pruning would be +advantageous to the growth and strength of this Tree now +that it has assumed these proportions. And the moral? +Well, <span class="sc">Goethe</span>, I think, in the poem was a trifle hazy +about the ultimate fate of his lovers; but in the opera +there is no doubt about it. With <i>Marguerite</i> it was +"Here we go up, up, up," and with <i>Faust</i> it was just +the reverse: but the operatic <i>Faust</i> will always "go down" +when sung and played as it was this season at Covent Garden. I forget +what <span class="sc">Boîto</span> does with his erring couple, but where Mr. <span class="sc">Jones's</span> +demon +resembles <span class="sc">Boîto's</span>, and also <span class="sc">Byron's</span>, Satan, is in his +monologues +addressed directly to the Supreme Being. But those Satans were +Fallen Archangels of Heaven; this of <span class="sc">'Enry Hauthor's</span> is a Fallen +Angel of Islington. This illogical demon sneers at one of the characters +for not using language sufficiently strong to express his feelings; +yet when his own turn comes his blasphemy is vulgar, and so +mild that not the sternest magistrate would like to fine him for it. +And strange to say, in one passage (which most persons would have +deemed objectionable, did it not come to them on the authority of the +Lord Chamberlain's Theatrical Licensing office), the Prince of Darkness +shows himself a gentleman curiously ignorant of such elementary +Christian theology as he could have picked up from a penny catechism. +How Mr. <span class="sc">Tree</span> was ever in-deuced to attempt the <i>Tempter</i> by +<span class="sc">Enry Hauthor</span>, will remain a mystery to the end of the run, and if +that should be in the far distant future, the mystery will be Tree-mendous, +and absolutely impenetrable. The costumes are artistic +and superb, the scenery effective, though the majestic proportions of +Canterbury Cathedral are rather dwarfed by the imposing figure of +the Very Deuce, who is "all over the place."</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h3>Morning Thought.</h3> + +<p class="center">(<i>By a chilly Autumn Guest at a Country House.</i>)</p> + +<div class="poem1"> <div class="stanza"> +<p><i>GR-R-R-R!</i> No fire in the grate—for our hostess is thrifty—</p> +<p>Although the thermometer stands below fifty!</p> +<p class="i6">Well, I wish to be courteous and sober;</p> +<p>But the <i>biggest</i> of pests is that pig of a host—</p> +<p>In a climate like ours, too!—who makes it his boast</p> +<p class="i6">That "he <i>never</i> starts fires till October!"</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p class="ind1"><span class="sc">A Good Kick-off.</span>—The "Rugby" decision against "professional" +football. Let us hope it will be followed by an equally +energetic "kick-out" of the growing "rowdy" element in this +popular, if somewhat over-praised, "National game." All good +sportsmen long to see a "penalty kick" administered to blackguardism +in the football field.</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page162" id="page162"></a>[pg 162]</span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"><a href="images/162-1500.png"><img src="images/162-600.png" width="600" height="398" alt="THE PERSONAL EQUATION." /></a> +<h3 class="sans">THE PERSONAL EQUATION.</h3> + +<p><i>Ducal Butler</i> (<i>showing Art Treasures of Stilton Castle</i>). "<span class="sc">The +Three Graces—after Canova!</span>"</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. Ramsbotham.</i> "<span class="sc">How interesting! And pray, which is the +<i>present</i> Duchess?</span>"</p></div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h2>ALEXANDER AND DIOGENES.</h2> + +<h4>(<i>Modern Teutonic Version.</i>)</h4> + +<blockquote><p> +["My complaint being of a nervous character, I share the opinion of my +doctor that, if I pass the winter in the midst of my accustomed surroundings +and occupations, it will be the most likely means of promoting my +recovery."—<i>Prince Bismarck's reply to the German Emperor's Letter.</i>] +</p></blockquote> + +<h4><i>Diogenes</i> (<i>of Kissingen</i>) loquitur:—</h4> + +<div class="poem1"> <div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Only to leave me to my tub!</i> Ha! had him <i>there</i> I flatter me!</p> +<p>Too late, my <span class="sc">Alexander</span>, now to butter or to batter me!</p> +<p>You "Dropped the Pilot"—with that youthful confidence that some adore—</p> +<p>The "whirligig of time" has turned; the "Pilot" drops the "Commodore."</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>A <i>fico</i> for Imperial "Pots," and their young princely progenies.</p> +<p>Belated condescension won't conciliate <span class="sc">Diogenes</span>.</p> +<p>Cynic and Conqueror exchange compliments Ciceronian,</p> +<p>But—there's a sting in some smooth words, for a mouthing Macedonian.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Mine are not <i>sanitary</i> "tubs," the Varzin, or the other one</p> +<p>At Friedrichsruh, you hint. Oh get away, and do not bother one!</p> +<p>I've got a "nervous system" now, and noisy, young, despotical,</p> +<p>"Shock-headed Peters" worry one, when aged and neurotical.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Your castles, and your palaces, and things, in Central Germany,</p> +<p>I "trample on"—like Plato's pride. Ha! does that make you squirm any?</p> +<p>Confer with your Court Marshal, if you like; I only promise I'll</p> +<p>Transfer my Tub—to Friedrichsruh, when up to change of domicile.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"How to command men" is my skill, as 'twas of him of Pontus, Sire,</p> +<p><i>You</i> can't command such men as I just when you chance to want us, Sire!</p> +<p>As soon as Doctor <span class="sc">Schweninger</span> says he has no objection, Sire,</p> +<p>I'll travel to another Tub—but not of your selection, Sire.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i16"><i>Sings</i>—</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>'Midst castles and palaces though I <i>might</i> roam,</p> +<p>Be it ever so humble there's no place like home.</p> +<p>The charm of the Tub seems to hallow me there,</p> +<p>Which all Central Germany's castles can't share.</p> +<p class="i2">Home! home! Sweet, sweet home!</p> +<p class="i2">Though 'tis only a Tub, there is no place like home!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>An exile from court, castles dazzle in vain.</p> +<p>Oh! give me my Tub and I'll gladly remain.</p> +<p>A proud <span class="sc">Alexander</span> I'm sorry (!) to snub,</p> +<p>But—keep your fine castles, leave me to my Tub!</p> +<p class="i2">Home! home! Sweet, sweet home!</p> +<p class="i2">Though you mayn't like its "climate," there's no place like home!</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p class="i36">[<i>Left curled up in it.</i></p> + </div> </div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h3>"PAS MÊME ACADÉMICIEN!"</h3> + +<p class="center">[<span class="sc">Albert Moore</span>, the exquisite decorative painter, died on September 25, +at the age of fifty-two, "without Academic honour."]</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>"<span class="sc">Love</span> is enough." Beauty, it seems, is not.</p> +<p class="i2">And yet upon our land's artistic fame,</p> +<p>It seems—does it not, Sirs?—a bitter blot</p> +<p class="i2">That the official roll lacks this great name!</p> +<p>No matter! The R. A., with tight-closed door,</p> +<p>Hath less—of honour; English Art hath <span class="sc">Moore</span>.</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p class="ind1">"Did you hear <span class="sc">Paderewski</span> the pianist?" asked someone of our +old friend Mrs. R. "Oh, yes," she replied; "I was most fortunate. +He played for several hours at a friend's house, and he gave us the +whole of his Repartee."</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<p class="ind2"><span class="sc">Riddle by 'Arry.</span>—"Look 'ere, if you're speakin' of a young unmarried +lady bein' rather 'uffy, what well-known river would you +name?—Why, <i>'Miss is 'ippy'</i>, o' course."</p> + +<hr class="medium" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page163" id="page163"></a>[pg 163]</span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"><a href="images/163-1500.png"><img src="images/163-600.png" width="600" height="456" alt="ALEXANDER AND DIOGENES." /></a> +<h2>ALEXANDER AND DIOGENES.</h2> + +<p><span class="sc">Alexander.</span> "IS THERE ANYTHING I CAN DO FOR YOU? CASTLE? OR ANYTHING OF THAT SORT?" +<span class="sc">Diogenes.</span> "NO—ONLY TO LEAVE ME TO MY TUB!!"</p></div> + +<hr class="medium" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page164" id="page164"></a>[pg 164]</span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page165" id="page165"></a>[pg 165]</span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"><a href="images/165-1500.png"><img src="images/165-600.png" width="600" height="439" alt="GUESTS TO BE AVOIDED." /></a> +<h2 class="sans">GUESTS TO BE AVOIDED.</h2> + +<p>"<span class="sc">Hullo, Old Man! How's it you're Dining at the Club? Thought your Wife told +me she had the Browns and Smiths to Dinner this evening?</span>"</p> + +<p>"<span class="sc">No—that was Yesterday. This evening she has the Odds and Ends!</span>"</p></div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h2>RIFLEMEN—"FORM!"</h2> + +<p class="center">(<i>A new Volunteer Song, "in vulgar parlance," +Brought up to date, after Lord +Tennyson</i>.)</p> + +<blockquote><p> +["It is not going too far to say that thousands +of men best fitted, physically and morally, to serve +as officers or in the ranks, hold aloof from the +Volunteers, because they are keenly alive to inefficiency +of the average Volunteer. In vulgar +parlance they look upon Volunteering as 'bad +form.'"—<i>The Times.</i>] +</p></blockquote> + +<div class="poem1"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>There is a sound that must terribly jar</p> +<p class="i2">On the ears of the West in our finical day;</p> +<p>'Tisn't a sound of battle and war,</p> +<p class="i2">But of something much worse in its "vulgar" way.</p> +<p>Storm's warm about Volunteer "form,"</p> +<p>Ready, be ready against that storm!</p> +<p>"Form!" "Form!" Riflemen, "Form!"</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Be not deaf to the sound that warns!</p> +<p class="i2">What? "Bad form!"—that's a prig's last plea.</p> +<p>Are figs of thistles? or grapes of thorns?</p> +<p class="i2">How can W. feel with E. C.?</p> +<p>"Form!" "Form!" Riflemen, "Form!"</p> +<p>Ready to meet "Sassiety's" storm!</p> +<p>Riflemen, Riflemen, shun "bad form!"</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Reform your "form"! Abide nothing "low"!</p> +<p class="i2">Look to yon butts, and take good aims!</p> +<p>But better a miss, or a magpie or so,</p> +<p class="i2"><ins title="T.N.: Original reads 'Then'">Than</ins> that bad, bad form which "Sassiety" shames.</p> +<p>Storm's warm about Volunteer "form,"</p> +<p>Ready, be ready against that storm!</p> +<p>Riflemen, Riflemen, Riflemen—"Form!!!"</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>For "form" be ready to do or die</p> +<p class="i2">"Form," in "Sassiety's" name, and the <span class="sc">Queen's</span>!</p> +<p>"In vulgar parlance" "good form"'s the cry—</p> +<p class="i2">Though only a fribble knows what it means.</p> +<p>But "Form!" "Form!" Riflemen, "Form!"</p> +<p>Ready, be ready to meet the storm</p> +<p>Against the Riflemen's "shocking bad form!"</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h2>THE LONDON SCHOOL BOARD VADE MECUM.</h2> + +<ul class="none"> +<li><i>Question.</i> What are the functions of the +School Board?</li> + +<li><i>Answer.</i> To protest against the conduct +of the Educational Department.</li> + +<li><i>Q.</i> In this protest has the Board the sympathy +of the public?</li> + +<li><i>A.</i> Unquestionably; because the conduct +of the Educational Department is calculated +to send up rates.</li> + +<li><i>Q.</i> But does not the Department look +after the sanitary side of the matter?</li> + +<li><i>A.</i> Perhaps so; but sanitation is too +expensive a matter to be treated without the +maturest consideration.</li> + +<li><i>Q.</i> Are the recommendations of the Department +unreasonable?</li> + +<li><i>A.</i> Very. The Board is required to make +the most costly alterations in buildings that +have already eaten up a large sum of money, +and should not consume a penny more.</li> + +<li><i>Q.</i> But are not the suggested improvements +ones that would be accepted nowadays +in any new design?</li> + +<li><i>A.</i> Certainly, but then their adoption +would be the cause of little or no expense.</li> + +<li><i>Q.</i> Then should science stop still until +the rates become abated?</li> + +<li><i>A.</i> That would be the practical course for +science to pursue.</li> + +<li><i>Q.</i> But leaving grievances out of the question, +what can be said about education?</li> + +<li><i>A.</i> That is a matter of secondary importance, +when compared with the latest sanitary +developments.</li> + +<li><i>Q.</i> But how about the children? Have they +been educated? What can be said about them?</li> + +<li><i>A.</i> Nothing. So far as the School Board +is concerned, the question of education in +general is absolutely of secondary importance.</li> + +<li><i>Q.</i> Then the career of a child need not be +considered nor watched?</li> + +<li><i>A.</i> Of course not. The sole means suggested +for teaching a child is to squabble with +the Government and to more or less ignore +the requirements of the schoolmaster.</li> +</ul> + +<hr class="medium" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page166" id="page166"></a>[pg 166]</span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"><a href="images/166-1500.png"><img src="images/166-600.png" width="500" height="326" alt="'ON THE CHANCE.'" /></a> +<h2 class="sans">"ON THE CHANCE."</h2> + +<p><i>Young Mamma.</i> "<span class="sc">What have you got there, my good Man?</span>"</p> + +<p><i>The "Good Man" (seeing she is not a Potato Customer)</i>. "<span class="sc">Only Boiling +Water, Ma'am. You see, this time O' Year, the Sea +gets rather cold, and some of the Ladies are so particular about their little +Toddlekins, bless 'em!</span>"</p> + +<p><i>Young Mamma (struck with the idea)</i>. "<span class="sc">Oh, then, please be here +To-morrow morning at Eight o'clock, and bring two +Cans!</span>"</p> + +<p> [<i>At once tenders him a Shilling. Needless to say Our Artist was not up in +time to see if appointment was kept punctually.</i></p></div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h2>BISHOP BOBADIL.</h2> + +<blockquote><p> +["As to the course which the English Government +should take in this matter, he was in favour of +their acting on the principles enunciated in the +Sermon on the Mount; but when it was found +that a contrary course was necessary, then they +must drop the sermon and have recourse to the +sword."—The Bishop of <span class="sc">Derry</span>, in Westminster +Abbey, on the subject of Mashonaland.] +</p></blockquote> + +<div class="poem1"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Of old the bully swaggered free,</p> +<p class="i2">He recked not how the fight arose;</p> +<p>He wore his warlike panoply,</p> +<p class="i2">A hireling and a man of blows.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>He knew no mercy, was not meek</p> +<p class="i2">(The meek are blessèd, said the Lord);</p> +<p>If one should smite him on the cheek,</p> +<p class="i2">He turned, but turned to draw his sword.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>He trod the weaker in the mire,</p> +<p class="i2">Nor stayed from blood his mailèd hand,</p> +<p>And tramped in fury and in fire</p> +<p class="i2">Through many a devastated land.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>I blame him not, it was his trade;</p> +<p class="i2">Though small his care for wrong or right,</p> +<p>At least he fought himself, nor stayed</p> +<p class="i2">At home to bid the others fight.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Long since we've placed him on the shelf;</p> +<p class="i2">Behold instead, his crosier drawn,</p> +<p>Within the sacred Minster's self</p> +<p class="i2">A bully blustering in lawn.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>A broad-brimmed stirrer up of strife,</p> +<p class="i2">"I hold," he cries, "of small account</p> +<p>His sense who stoops to base his life</p> +<p class="i2">Upon the Sermon on the Mount.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>"That is, if unprepared to strike.</p> +<p class="i2">Some help that Sermon <i>may</i> afford.</p> +<p>You suit yourselves, and, when you like,</p> +<p class="i2">You drop it and you draw the sword."</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Go to, you loud and foolish priest,</p> +<p class="i2"> Nor scorn the precepts you should keep.</p> +<p>Still is it true that, west or east,</p> +<p class="i2">The wolves are sometimes clothed like sheep.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>And here ('twas thus in ancient days)</p> +<p class="i2">False prophets shame the Master still.</p> +<p>And congregations chant the praise</p> +<p class="i2">Of blatant Bishop <span class="sc">Bobadil</span>.</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h3>WOODMEN, SPARE THOSE TREES!</h3> + +<h4><i>New (New Forest) Version.</i></h4> + +<p class="center">[Mr. <span class="sc">Auberon Herbert</span> says "the rapacious and +spendthrift" woodmen of the Crown have recently +felled two hundred oaks in the New Forest.]</p> + +<div class="poem"> <div class="stanza"> +<p>Woodmen, spare those trees!</p> +<p class="i2">You're playing up rare jokes</p> +<p>In felling, at your ease,</p> +<p class="i2">Hundreds of British oaks.</p> +<p>We'd ax you stay your axe.</p> +<p class="i2">Come! no official rot!</p> +<p>Or <i>Punch</i>'s wrath may wax,</p> +<p class="i2">And then—you'll get it hot.</p> + </div><div class="stanza"> +<p>Those old familiar trees</p> +<p class="i2">Are glory and renown.</p> +<p>Don't think your business, <i>please</i>,</p> +<p class="i2">Is just to hew them down!</p> +<p>We <i>ask</i> you, for the nonce.</p> +<p class="i2">If such appeal is vain,</p> +<p>We'll bid you, sharp, at once,</p> +<p class="i2">"Cut"—and <i>don't</i> come again!</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h2>"GOOD SIR JOHN!"</h2> + +<p class="center">(<i>To Sir John Gilbert, R.A., on his receiving the +Freedom of the City.</i></p> +<p class="author1"><i>By an Old Boy.</i>)</p> + +<div class="poem1"> <div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">Good Black (and White) Knight,</p> +<p class="i2">Our youth's joint delight,</p> +<p>With that other Black Knight, dear Sir <span class="sc">Walter's</span></p> +<p class="i2">(Whom you pictured well),</p> +<p class="i2">Ancient memories swell,</p> +<p>Till language, in praising you, falters.</p> +<p class="i2">You drew, with such dash,</p> +<p class="i2"><i>All</i> our heroes; they flash</p> +<p>On our memories. Ah, we thanked <i>you</i> so</p> +<p class="i2">For Dons, Rosinantes,</p> +<p class="i2">And Sanchos (<span class="sc">Cervantes!</span>)</p> +<p>"Leather-Stocking," and Robinson Crusoe.</p> +<p class="i2">Our fancies still carry</p> +<p class="i2">Your (<span class="sc">Shakspeare's</span>) King Harry,</p> +<p>We know our own boyhood's sound slumbers</p> +<p class="i2">Were haunted by Pucks,</p> +<p class="i2">Robin Hoods, Friar Tucks,</p> +<p>And scenes from your brave Christmas Numbers.</p> +<p class="i2">God bless you, Sir <span class="sc">John</span>,</p> +<p class="i2">For your Knight and your Don,</p> +<p>Who moved our youth's fervour and pity!</p> +<p class="i2"> Sure every Old Boy</p> +<p class="i2"> Hopes you long may enjoy</p> +<p>The freedom (and health) of our City!</p> + </div> </div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h3>RIDDLE FOR THE GREAT REALIST.</h3> + +<div class="poem1"> <div class="stanza"> +<p><i>Q.</i> When is a sailor like a French journalist?</p> +<p><i>A.</i> When he has to "sign articles."</p> +</div> </div> + +<hr class="medium" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page167" id="page167"></a>[pg 167]</span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"><a href="images/167-1100.png"><img src="images/167-450.png" width="450" height="616" alt="WHO WOULD NOT BE A MEMBER OF PARLIAMENT?" /></a> +<h3 class="sans">WHO WOULD NOT BE A MEMBER OF PARLIAMENT?</h3></div> + +<hr class="medium" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page168" id="page168"></a>[pg 168]</span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;"><a href="images/168-800.png"><img src="images/168-300.png" width="300" height="399" alt="A NEAT WAY OF PUTTING IT." /></a> +<h3 class="sans">A NEAT WAY OF PUTTING IT.</h3> + +<p><i>Cabby</i> (<i>to Clergyman, who has paid the legal fare</i>). "<span class="sc">Won't +leave me much for the Hoffertory next Sunday, Sir, will it?</span>"</p></div> + +<hr class="medium" /> + +<h2>THE ADVENTURES OF PICKLOCK HOLES.</h2> + +<h4>(<i>By Cunnin Toil.</i>)</h4> + +<h3>No. V.—THE HUNGARIAN DIAMOND.</h3> + +<p>Everybody must remember the apparently causeless panic that +seized the various European governments only a few years ago. It +was the dead season. Members of Parliament were all disporting +themselves on the various grouse-moors which are specially reserved +for that august legislative body in order that there may be no lack +of accuracy in the articles of those who imagine that the 12th of +August brings to every M.P. a yearning for the scent of heather and +the sound of breech-loading guns. Suddenly, and without any +warning, a great fear spread through Europe. Nobody seemed able +to state precisely how it began. There were, of course, some who +attributed it to an after-dinner speech made by the German +Emperor at the annual banquet of the Blue Bösewitzers, the famous +Cuirassier regiment of which the Grand Duke of <span class="sc">Schnupftuchstein</span> +is the honorary commanding officer. Others again saw in it the +influence of <span class="sc">M. Paul Deroulède</span>, while yet a third party attributed +it with an equal assumption of certainty to the fact that Austria had +recently forbidden the import of Servian pigs. They were all wrong. +The time has come when the truth must be known. The story I am +about to tell will show my extraordinary friend, <span class="sc">Picklock Holes</span>, on +an even higher pinnacle of unmatchable acumen than that which fame +has hitherto assigned to him. He may be vexed when he reads my +narrative of his triumphs, for he is as modest as he is inductive; but I +am determined that, at whatever cost, the story shall be made public.</p> + +<p>It was on one of those delightful evenings for which our English +summer is famous, that HOLES and I were as usual sitting together +and conversing as to the best methods of inferring an Archbishop +from a hat-band and a Commander-in-Chief from a penny-whistle. +I had put forward several plans which appeared to me to be satisfactory, +but <span class="sc">Holes</span> had scouted them one after another with a cold +impassivity which had not failed to impress me, accustomed though +I was to the great man's exhibition of it.</p> + +<p>"Here," said <span class="sc">Holes</span>, eventually, "are the necessary steps. Hat-band, +band-master, master-mind, mind-your-eye, eye-ball, ball-bearing, +bear-leader, Leda and the Swan, swan-bill, bill-post, post-cart, +cart-road, roadway, Weybridge, bridge-arch, arch-bishop. The +inference of a Commander-in-Chief is even easier. You have only to +assume that a penny-whistle has been found lying on the Horse-Guards' +Parade by the Colonel of the Scots Guards, and carried by him +to the office of the Secretary of State for War. Thereupon you subdivide +the number of drummer-boys in a regiment of Goorkhas by +the capital value of a sergeant's retiring pension, and——"</p> + +<p>But the rest of this marvellous piece of concise reasoning must +remain for ever a secret, for at this moment a bugle-call disturbed +the stillness of the summer night, and <span class="sc">Holes</span> immediately paused.</p> + +<p>"What can that mean?" I asked, in some alarm, for Camberwell +(our meeting place) is an essentially unmilitary district, and I could +not account for this strange and awe-inspiring musical demonstration.</p> + +<p>"Hush," said <span class="sc">Holes</span>, with perfect composure; "it is the agreed +signal. Listen. The great Samovar diamond, the most brilliant +jewel in the turquoise crown of Hungary, has been lost. The +Emperor of <span class="sc">Austria</span> is in despair. Next week he is due at Pesth, +but he cannot appear before the fierce and haughty Magyars in a +crown deprived of the decoration that all Hungary looks upon as +symbolical of the national existence. A riot in Pesth at this moment +would shake the Austro-Hungarian empire to its foundations. With +it the Triple Alliance would crumble into dust, and the peace of +Europe would not be worth an hour's purchase. It is, therefore, +imperative that before the dawn of next Monday the diamond should +be restored to its wonted setting."</p> + +<p>"My dear <span class="sc">Holes</span>," I said, "this is more terrible than I thought. +Have they appealed to you, as usual, after exhausting all the native +talent?"</p> + +<p>"My dear <span class="sc">Potson</span>," replied my friend, "you ask too much. Let +it suffice that I have been consulted, and that the determination of +the question of peace or war lies in these hands." And with these +words the arch-detective spread before my eyes those long, sinewy, +and meditative fingers which had so often excited my admiration.</p> + +<p>Our preparations for departure to Hungary were soon made. I +hardly know why I accompanied <span class="sc">Holes</span>. It seemed somehow to be +the usual thing that I should be present at all his feats. I thought +he looked for my company, and though his undemonstrative nature +would never have suffered him to betray any annoyance had I +remained absent, I judged it best not to disturb the even current of +his investigations by departing from established precedent. I +therefore departed from London—my only alternative. Just as we +were setting out, <span class="sc">Holes</span> stopped me with a warning gesture.</p> + +<p>"Have you brought the clue with you?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"What clue?"</p> + +<p>"Oh," he answered, rather testily, "any clue you like, so long as +it's a clue. A torn scrap of paper with writing on it, a foot-print in +the mud, a broken chair, a soiled overcoat—it really doesn't matter +what it is, but a clue of some kind we must have."</p> + +<p>"Of course, of course," I said, in soothing tones. "How stupid +of me to forget it. Will this do?" I continued, picking up a piece +of faded green ribbon which happened to be lying on the pavement.</p> + +<p>"The very thing," said <span class="sc">Holes</span>, pocketing it, and so we started. +Our first visit on arriving at Pesth was to the Emperor-King, who +was living <i>incognito</i> in a small back alley of the Hungarian capital. +We cheered the monarch's heart, and proceeded to call on the leader +of the Opposition in the Hungarian Diet. He was a stern man of +some fifty summers, dressed in the national costume. We found him +at supper. <span class="sc">Holes</span> was the first to speak. "Sir," he said, "resistance +is useless. Your schemes have been discovered. All that is +left for you is to throw yourself upon the mercy of your King."</p> + +<p>The rage of the Magyar was fearful to witness. <span class="sc">Holes</span> continued, +inexorably:—"This piece of green ribbon matches the colour of your +Sunday tunic. Can you swear it has not been torn from the lining? +You cannot. I thought so. Know then that wrapped in this ribbon +was found the great Samovar diamond, and that you, you alone, +were concerned in the robbery."</p> + +<p>At this moment the police broke into the room.</p> + +<p>"Remove his Excellency," said <span class="sc">Holes</span>, "and let him forthwith +expiate his crimes upon the scaffold."</p> + +<p>"But," I ventured to interpose, "where is the diamond? Unless +you restore that——"</p> + +<p>"<span class="sc">Potson</span>," whispered <span class="sc">Holes</span>, almost fiercely, "do not be a +fool."</p> + +<p>As he said this, the door once again opened, and the Emperor-King +entered the room, bearing on his head the turquoise crown, in the +centre of which sparkled the great Samovar, "the moon of brilliancy," +as the Hungarian poets love to call it. The Emperor approached the +marvellous detective. "Pardon me," he said, "for troubling you. +I have just found the missing stone under my pillow."</p> + +<p>"Where," said <span class="sc">Holes</span>, "I was about to tell your Majesty that +you would find it."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," said his Majesty, "for restoring to me a valued +possession and ridding me of a knave about whom I have long had +my suspicions." The conclusion of this speech was greeted with loud +"<i>Eljens</i>," the Hungarian national shout, in the midst of which we +took our leave. That is the true story of how the peace of Europe +was preserved by my wonderful friend.</p> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<table summary="tn" align="center"> +<tr> + <td class="note"> + +<p>Transcriber's Note:</p> + +<p>Sundry damaged or missing punctuation has been repaired.</p> + +<p>The correction listed below is also indicated in the text by a dashed line at the appropriate place:<br /> +Move the mouse over the word, and the original text <ins title="T.N.: Original reads 'apprears'">appears</ins>.</p> + +<p>Page 165: 'then' corrected to 'than'.</p> + +<p>"But better a miss, or a magpie or so,<br /> + Than that bad, bad form which "Sassiety" shames."</p> + + </td> +</tr> +</table> + +<hr class="full" /> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. +105 October 7, 1893, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH *** + +***** This file should be named 39332-h.htm or 39332-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/9/3/3/39332/ + +Produced by Malcolm Farmer, Lesley Halamek 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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