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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, October
+28th 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, October 28th 1893
+
+Author: Various
+
+Release Date: April 3, 2012 [EBook #39362]
+
+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
+
+
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Punch, or the London Charivari
+
+Volume 105, October 28th 1893
+
+_edited by Sir Francis Burnand_
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+MY LANDLORD.
+
+(_By a Tenant._)
+
+  Who asked a rent absurdly high;
+  Who never scrupled at a lie?
+  The house well built! The soil so dry!
+      My Landlord.
+
+  Whose saving schemes cause constant fears
+  The house will fall about my ears?
+  I say it totters, and he sneers.
+      My Landlord.
+
+  The cellar's flooded when it rains;
+  The ceilings show damp, mouldy stains.
+  Who swindled me about the drains?
+      My Landlord.
+
+  Who called the house extremely nice?
+  It's simply overrun with mice,
+  The cook has had hysterics twice.
+      My Landlord.
+
+  Who praised the garden in a way
+  To seem like Eden? I should say
+  The soil is brickbats mixed with clay.
+      My Landlord.
+
+  Who said each kind of plant succeeds?
+  Yet when I sow the choicest seeds
+  They all develop into weeds.
+      My Landlord.
+
+  What's this? A note from him--a few
+  Short lines to say the rent is due.
+  Who tells me facts not new, if true?
+      My Landlord.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A SUGGESTION.--A decoration for JABEZ BALFOUR,--"The Order of the
+Golden Fleece."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: RECKLESS.
+
+_Moderate Swell._ "GOING TO TAKE A CAB?"
+
+_Immoderate Swell._ "ER--NO."
+
+_M. S._ "NO UMBRELLA, I SEE."
+
+_Imm. S._ "ER--NO, DEAR BOY. SEE--IF YOU--ER--CARRY 'BRELLA--LOOKS AS
+IF YOU'D ONLY ONE SUIT A CLOTHES!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+MY TENANT.
+
+(_By a Landlord._)
+
+  Who haggled long about the price;
+  Who says my house is far from nice;
+  Who seeks solicitor's advice?
+      My Tenant.
+
+  Who wants incessantly repairs
+  To floors and ceilings, steps and stairs;
+  Who doats on hygienic scares?
+      My Tenant.
+
+  Who lives in fear of sewer gas,
+  So that the plumbers soon amass
+  Vast sums, once mine? That utter ass,
+      My Tenant.
+
+  Eternally some fresh complaint;
+  Distemper, whitewash, paper, paint!
+  He is enough to vex a saint--
+      My Tenant.
+
+  Who lets the garden go to pot?
+  What used to be a pleasant spot
+  Is worse than an allotment plot.
+      My Tenant.
+
+  Deferring payments suits his bent;
+  When various demands I've sent;
+  Unwillingly he pays the rent,
+      My Tenant.
+
+  A note from him? Another growl!
+  Some chimney smokes, he wants a cowl.
+  Thus he complains, that moping owl,
+      My Tenant.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Mrs. R. says she always understood you must "catch your hare before
+you cook it;" so she cannot for the life of her make out what a friend
+of hers meant by telling her that "when their kitchen-maid cooked the
+hare _she caught it afterwards_!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A DIARY À LA RUSSE.
+
+_Monday._--Rather tired of this constant hand-shaking, and even the
+lady-kissing is somewhat wearisome. Especially when the fair dames do
+not draw the line at sixty. However, no doubt well meant. Found usual
+collection of miscellaneous presents. Don't quite know what I shall
+do with ton of tallow. Somehow our hosts fancy we require it. Latest
+addition from the advertising merchants--a Patent Tombstone (with
+space for _affiches_ at back) and Somebody's Remedy for Neuralgia.
+Wish our hosts would not send us such a lot of things! Have been
+staying at my hotel all day long on the chance of escaping attention,
+and thus be able to find my way to the Moulin Rouge. Just got past the
+porter, when I was caught by one of the _attachés_ and carried off to
+a State Dinner. Spent the rest of the evening in shouting "Long Live
+France!" and listening to the Russian National Hymn.
+
+_Tuesday._--Hope I shall have better luck to-day. My hand is twice
+its normal size, thanks to the shaking. More presents. Candles by
+the hundredweight, and bear's-grease by the ton. Some one has sent a
+Boot-blacking Machine, and wants a testimonial. On the watch all day.
+Trust to get to the Folies Bergères some time or another. Just crawled
+out when seized by a friendly _député_, and hurried off to a function
+at the Hotel de Ville!
+
+_Wednesday._--Absolutely done up. Deafened with the "_Marseillaise_,"
+and sick to death of "_The Emperor's Hymn_." Usual collection of
+presents. Five thousand fire-alarms! One of them alone enough to wake
+up a slumbering town of half a million inhabitants! Ladies of all ages
+(especially of mature age) anxious to kiss me. Could not walk across
+the road this morning for them! Had to stop in the hotel all day long.
+Tried to escape in the evening on the chance of finding my way to a
+"concert-music-hall," when seized by an officer of the French Marine,
+and carried away to a Reception!
+
+_Thursday._--I have now been in Paris four days and seen nothing,
+absolutely nothing! Of course most gratifying from a patriotic point
+of view, but if this is Paris why give me St. Petersburg, or even
+Siberia! Can't move a step without having my hand shaken off. Not a
+moment's privacy; and as for the presents, I am absolutely deluged
+with them! and such idiotic gifts! All the advertisers in the
+country seem to have found us out. What use on earth can I make of an
+elephant's feeding-spoon or a lady's comb for curling the hair? I made
+a last effort to get to the Moulin; but, of course, again frustrated.
+I was seized by an "A.-D.-C." and taken to a State Lecture!
+
+_Friday._--Giving way to despair! What a hollow thing is popular
+applause! I am absolutely tired to death of it. I cannot repeat (for
+very weariness), the various ovations I have received. I have been
+accepted with cheers at all hours of the day and night! Oh, how glad
+I would be to get back! At the last moment I saw my way to a stealthy
+visit to the Folies, when I was secured and booked for two dinners and
+a "_punch_." Betrayed! Betrayed!
+
+_Saturday._--Still hunted. Not allowed to go anywhere except when
+my tormentors drag me to some official function. Have sold all my
+presents for ten francs. Have received marching orders for Toulon.
+Just as I was about to escape and proceed to the Moulin Rouge,
+captured by "my friends the enemy," or should it be "my enemies the
+friends"? Had to submit to the usual enthusiasm on my road to the
+railway station. Fortune of war I suppose, or rather of peace. Of the
+two, the latter I should think was the more deadly. Last strain of the
+"_Marseillaise_," last kiss from some one's grandmother, and curtain!
+Glad it's all over!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+BY MR. JUSTICE CHARLES (_omitted in reports of his decision last
+week_).--"The Dahomey Troupe of Amazons appear only in the evenings
+at certain music-halls. Their name should be changed to 'Day-homey and
+Night-outy Amazons.'"
+
+  (_Signed_)
+  "CHARLES HIS FRIEND."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE CHESHIRE CRUELTY TO CHILDREN CASE.--Rightly were condemned the two
+unfeeling PHELANS. No jury could possibly have any consideration
+for such PHELANS as these. If for the male prisoner the jury had
+recommended a tail or two of the Cheshire Cat (o'-nine-tails), it
+would not have been thought too much.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+MOTTO FOR MR. INDERWICK, Q.C.--The eminent Counsel of the QUEEN has
+been recently admitted to the freedom of the borough of Rye. He has
+added to his coat of arms the words, "Mind your Rye."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+NEW DESCRIPTIVE TITLE OF THE G. O. M. SUGGESTED BY LORD SALISBURY'S
+LATEST SPEECH.--"The Autocrat of the Round Table."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: "EMINENTLY A SCOTTISH GOVERNMENT."
+
+(_Mr. Asquith's Speech, Tuesday, October 17._)]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: TOO PARTICULAR.
+
+"LOOK HERE--CONFOUND IT, ISAACSON! YOU'VE PLAYED ME A PRETTY TRICK
+WITH THIS ANCESTOR YOU SOLD ME! SHOWED IT TO A FRIEND YESTERDAY, AND
+TOLD HIM IT WAS THE PORTRAIT OF MY ANCESTOR WHO CAME OVER WITH WILLIAM
+THE FIRST; AND HE SAID, 'WHAT A FUNNY THING HE SHOULD HAVE DRESSED
+HIMSELF IN THE STYLE OF WILLIAM THE FOURTH!'"
+
+"VELL THAT'TH NOTHING. I JETH MADE A MITHTAKE OF A FEW YEARTH--VILLIAM
+THE FIRTHT AND VILLIAM THE FOURTH; ONLY HITH GREAT-GRANDTHON!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE SAX SCOTCH PIPERS.
+
+    ["The present Government is eminently a Scottish Government.
+    You must remember that there are in the present Cabinet no
+    less than five Scotch members of the House of Commons ... and
+    we have also a member of the House of Lords who is one of the
+    most eminent Scotchmen--I mean Lord ROSEBERY."--_Mr. Asquith
+    in Glasgow._]
+
+    "_A Sassenach chief may be bonily built,
+    He may purchase a sporran, a bonnet, a kilt;
+    Stick a skeän in his hose--wear an acre of stripes--
+    But he cannot assume an affection for pipes._"
+
+      --_Bab Ballads._
+
+AIR--"_The Hundred Pipers._"
+
+  Wi' sax stalwart pipers an' a', an' a',
+    Wi' sax Scotch pipers an' a', an' a',
+  We'll up an' gie them a blaw, a blaw,
+    Wi' sax stout Scotch pipers an' a', an' a',
+  Oh! it's Sassenach bummlers awa', awa'!
+    Our WULLIE'S a Scotsman sae braw, sae braw,
+  We'll on an' we'll march to St. Stephen's ha',
+    Wi' its seats an' its salaries an' a', an' a'!
+      Wi' sax Scotch pipers an' a', an' a', &c.
+
+  Oh! wha' is formaist o' a', o' a'?
+    Oh! wha' does follow the blaw, the blaw?
+  Bonnie WULLIE, the king o' us a', hurrah!
+    Wi' his five stout pipers an' a', an' a'!
+  His bonnet an' feather he's wavin' high.
+    His bagpipes wheeze, an' his ribbons fly;
+  The nor' win' plays wi' his thin white hair,
+    While the pipers blaw wi' an unco' flare.
+      Wi' sax Scotch pipers an' a', an' a', &c.
+
+  PRIMROSE, an' CAMPBELL, sae dink an' sae deep,
+    Shouther to shouther wi' _Marjoribanks_ they keep,
+  ROBERTSON, BALFOUR, an' ASHER a' round
+    Dance themselves dry to the pibroch's sound.
+  Dumfoundered the English saw, they saw,
+    Dumfoundered they heard the blaw, the blaw
+  Hath a Southron ae chance ava' ava',
+    Wi' these sax Scotch pipers an' a', an' a'?
+      Wi' the sax Scotch pipers an' a', an' a',
+      The Saxon must go to the wa', the wa'!
+      WULLIE'S up an' gies them a blaw, a blaw
+      Wi' his sax Scotch pipers an' a', an' a'!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A CONTRIBUTION TO THE CELEBRATED PICKWICKIAN EXAMINATION PAPER.--_To
+Students of Pickwick._--On what (as far as this questioner is aware)
+solitary occasion is champagne mentioned in _Pickwick_? who drank
+a bottle of it? where was it consumed? after what exhilarating
+performance?--ED.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"_TA TA'_D AND FEATHERED."--"_A soft thing that waves_" was the
+description of a feather given by a Lady Correspondent--and therefore
+a perfectly Fair One--in the _Times_ last Saturday. But surely "_a
+soft thing that waves_" is evidently a lady's hand bidding somebody
+"_Ta! ta!_"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+BY OUR OWN CRAMMER.--In unsuccessful candidates for Army and Navy
+Exams. England may have lost some of her best "pluck'd" soldiers and
+sailors.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+BRIC-À-BRAC.
+
+(_By a Gallio._)
+
+    ["Poetry will degenerate into mere literary _bric-à-brac_,
+    such as the composition of rondels and triolets."--DR. C. H.
+    PEARSON.]
+
+  Literary odds and ends
+    Will for lays be scribbled!
+  PEARSON thus ahead portends
+    "Litter"-ary odds and ends.
+  Pessimist, you owe amends
+    For this forecast ribald:--
+    "Literary odds and ends
+    Will for lays be scribbled!"
+
+  Call you then mere _bric-à-brac_
+    Triolet and rondel?
+  _All_ that's knocked off with a knack
+  Call you then mere _bric-à-brac_?"
+  Man of prose, you thus attack
+    VILLON, DOBSON, BLONDEL.
+  Call you _then_ mere _bric-à-brac_
+    Triolet and rondel?!
+
+  'Pon my word, _I_ don't much care
+    If you prove your thesis.
+  Poetry's not _my_ affair--
+  'Pon my word, I don't much care!
+  My three triolets pray tear
+    As you please, to pieces!
+  'Pon my word, I don't much care
+    If _they_ prove your thesis!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The recent illuminations in Paris, it is said, were a very costly
+matter. Naturally, as an "_affaire de LUX(E)_."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+UNDER THE ROSE.
+
+(_A Story in Scenes._)
+
+SCENE XI.--_At the entrance to The Eldorado Music-hall._
+TIME--_Saturday evening, about_ 8.30. Mrs. TOOVEY, _who has just
+alighted from a Waterloo bus, approaches; she wears a veil, under
+which her spectacles gleam balefully, and passes the various boards
+and coloured posters with averted eyes_.
+
+_Mrs. Toovey_ (_to herself_). I'm late--I ought to have taken a cab,
+instead of that dawdling bus. Still, I shall be in plenty of time to
+surprise Pa in the very midst of his profligacy. (_She looks
+around her._) Gilding, rosewood and mahogany panels, plush, stained
+glass--oh, the wicked luxury of it all! (_She pushes open a swing
+door._) Where is the place you call Box C? I--I have to meet somebody
+there.
+
+    [_She finds herself in a glittering bar, where she produces a
+    distinct sensation among a few loungers there._
+
+_A Barmaid_ (_tartly_). There's no entrance to the music-hall this
+way. You've come to the wrong place.
+
+_Mrs. Toov._ (_with equal acidity_). Ah, young woman, you need not
+tell me _that_! (_She goes out with a withering glance, and hears
+stifled sniggers as the doors swing after her._) A drinking-bar on the
+very threshold to trap the unwary--disgraceful! (_She tries the next
+door, and finds a stalwart official, in a fancy uniform._) Will you
+have the goodness to conduct me to Box C, instantly?
+
+_The Official._ Next door, please, Ma'am. This only admits to the
+Grand Lounge.
+
+_Mrs. Toov._ (_to herself_). The "Grand Lounge," indeed! (_She opens
+another door, and finds a Pay-box, where she addresses the check-taker
+through the pigeon-hole_.) I want to go to Box C. I've asked for it at
+I don't know how many places, and----
+
+_Checktaker_ (_politely_). I'm really afraid you'll have to ask again,
+Ma'am. This is the Promenade. Box-office _next_ entrance.
+
+_Mrs. Toov._ (_to herself, indignantly_). I only hope they make it as
+difficult for other people to get in as they do for me! So Pa comes
+here to lounge and promenade, does he? Oh, let me only catch him, I'll
+send him promenading! (_She goes to the Box-office._) I want Box C,
+wherever that is.
+
+_Book-Keeper._ Can give you Box D, if you like. Box C is reserved for
+this evening.
+
+_Mrs. Toov._ (_sharply_). I am quite aware of that. For Mr. THEOPHILUS
+TOOVEY. I have come to join him here.
+
+_Book-K._ (_referring to book_). It is entered in that name,
+certainly; but--hem--may I ask if you belong to Mr. TOOVEY'S party?
+
+_Mrs. Toov._ (_crushingly_). No doubt you consider that his wife has
+no claim to---- Most certainly I belong to his party.
+
+_Book-K._ That is quite sufficient, Madam. (_To_ Attendant.) Show this
+lady to Box C. (_To himself, as_ Mrs. T. _follows the_ Attendant _up
+some velvet-covered stairs_.) Well, it's no business of mine; but if
+Mr. TOOVEY, whoever _he_ is, isn't careful what he's about, he may be
+sorry for it--that's all!
+
+_Mrs. Toov._ (_to herself_). They never even asked for my ticket.
+Pa's evidently well known here! (_To_ Attendant.) A programme? with
+pictures of dancing girls all over it! You ought to be ashamed to
+offer such things to a respectable woman!
+
+_Att._ (_surprised_). I've never heard them objected to before, Ma'am.
+Can I bring you any refreshments? (_Persuasively._) Bottle-ale or
+stout? Lemonade and brandy? Whisky and soda?
+
+_Mrs. Toov._ Don't imagine you can tempt _me_, man. I've been a total
+abstainer ever since I was five!
+
+_Att._ (_opening box-door_). Indeed, Ma'am. I suppose now you 'aven't
+mistook this for Exeter 'All?--because it _ain't_!
+
+_Mrs. Toov._ I am in no danger of making _that_ mistake! (_She enters
+the box._) I am here before Pa after all. What a gaudy, wicked,
+glaring place to be sure! Ugh, this _filthy_ tobacco; it chokes me,
+and I can scarcely see across the hall. Not that I _want_ to see.
+Well, if I sit in the corner behind the curtain I shan't be seen
+myself. To think that I--_I_--should be here at all, but the
+responsibility is on Pa's head, not mine! What are those two girls
+singing about on the stage? They are dressed _decently_ enough, I'll
+say _that_ for them, though pinafores and baby bonnets at _their_ age
+are ridiculous.
+
+    [_She listens._
+
+  _The Sisters Sarcenet_ (_on stage_).
+    You men are deceivers and awfully sly. Oh, you _are_!
+
+  _Male portion of audience_ (_as is expected from them_).
+        No we _aren't!_
+
+  _The Sisters S._ (_archly_). Now you _know_ you are!
+      You come home with the milk; should your poor wife ask why,
+      "Pressing business, my pet!" you serenely reply.
+      When you've really been out on the "Tiddle-y-hi!" Yes, you _have_!
+
+  _Male audience_ (_as before_). No, we've _not_!
+  _The Sister S._ (_with the air of accusing angels_).
+        Why, you _know_ you have!
+
+_Mrs. Toov._ (_to herself_). It's to those young women's credit that
+they have the courage to come here and denounce the men to their
+faces--like this. And it's gone _home_ to them, too! they're shouting
+out "Over!" (_Here the Sisters suddenly turn a couple of "cart-wheels"
+with surprising unanimity, amidst roars of applause._) Oh, the
+shameless minxes! I will _not_ sit and look on at such scandalous
+exhibitions. (_She moves to the corner nearest the stage, and turns
+her back upon the proceedings._) How much longer will Pa compel me to
+assist at such scenes, I wonder? _Why_ doesn't he come? Where is he
+now? (_Bitterly._) No doubt on what those vulgar wretches would call
+the "Tiddle-y-hi!" (_The_ Brothers BIMBO, _Eccentric Clowns, appear on
+the stage_.) I can't sit here in a corner looking at nothing. If I do
+see anything improper, THEOPHILUS shall answer for it. (_She changes
+her place again._) Acrobats--well, they're inoffensive at least. Oh, I
+do believe one of the nasty things is climbing up to the balcony; he's
+going to walk along here!
+
+_First Brother Bimbo_ (_on stage, to his confrère, who is balancing
+himself on the broad ledge of the box tier_). Ohè--'old up, there.
+Prenny garde! Ah, il tombera! There, I _told_ yer so! (_The_ Second
+Brother B. _has reached the front of_ Mrs. TOOVEY'S _box, where he
+pretends to stumble_.) Oh, le pover garçong, look at 'im _now_! Come
+back, do! Ask the lady to ketch 'old of your trousers be'ind!
+
+_Mrs. Toov._ (_to the_ Second Brother, _firmly_). Don't expect me to
+do anything of the sort. Go back, as your brother asks you to, you
+silly fellow. You shouldn't attempt such a foolhardy thing at all!
+
+_Second Br. B._ (_to the_ First). Oh, my! There's _such_ a nice young
+lady in here; she's asking me to come in and set along with her! _May_
+I?
+
+    [_He lets himself drop astride the ledge, and wags his head
+    at_ Mrs. TOOVEY, _to her intense horror_.
+
+_Mrs. Toov._ (_in an audible undertone_). If you don't take away that
+leg at once, I'll pinch it!
+
+_Second Br. B._ Eh? Not _now_; my brother says I mustn't. "Come round
+afterwards?" Well, well, we'll see! (_He springs up on the ledge
+again, and kisses his hand to her._) Goo'bye, ducky! 'Ave no fears for
+_me_. Whoo-up!
+
+[Illustration: "Goo'bye, ducky! Ave no fears for _me_!"]
+
+    [_He continues his tour of the balcony, amidst roars of
+    laughter._
+
+_Mrs. Toov._ (_falling back in the box, speechless with fury_). And
+_this_ is the treatment Pa exposes me to--all those unmanly wretches
+laughing at me! But I don't care; here I stay till Pa comes. _Oh_,
+this smoke; I shall be poisoned by it soon! Upon my word, there's
+a bold hussy coming on to sing, in a man's coat and black satin
+knee-breeches. I'll stop my ears; they shall see there's _one_
+woman here who respects herself! (_She does so, during that and the
+subsequent performances; an hour passes._) How much longer am I to be
+compelled to remain here? This is terrible; three creatures in tight
+red suits, got up to look like devils! I wonder they've no fear of
+being struck dead on the stage! They're standing on each other's
+stomachs. I daren't look on at such blasphemy! I'll take off my
+spectacles; then, at least, my eyes won't be offended by seeing
+anything distinctly! (_She removes her glasses, and replaces them in
+their case, which she lays on the box-ledge._) They're gone, thank
+goodness. What's this? There's someone opening the box-door. Pa--at
+last! Well, I'm ready for him!
+
+    [_She stiffens in her chair._
+
+_Attendant's Voice_ (_outside_). This is Box C, Miss. Can I bring you
+any refreshments? Bottle-ale, stout, lemonade, Miss?
+
+_A Female Voice._ I--I don't know. There's a gentleman with me; he'll
+be here directly; he only stopped to speak to somebody. Ah, he's
+coming now.
+
+_Mrs. Toov._ "Miss"?! This is Pa's party, then. _Oh!!_
+
+    [_A quietly dressed, and decidedly good-looking girl enters,
+    and starts on seeing that the box is already occupied._
+
+_Mrs. Toov._ (_rising in towering wrath_). You were not expecting to
+find _me_ here, Miss, I've no doubt?
+
+_The Girl_ (_sitting down_). No; PHIL didn't say there would be anyone
+else; but any friend of his I'm sure----
+
+_Mrs. Toov._ PHIL? you dare to call him "PHIL!" Do you know who I am,
+you insolent girl, you? I am his Wife!
+
+_The Girl._ His wife? I don't believe it. Are you sure you don't mean
+his mother. My _Phil_ married to _you_, indeed--a pretty story!
+
+_Mrs. Toov._ (_trembling with rage_). Go out of this box instantly, or
+I'll make you!
+
+_The Girl._ I shall do nothing of the kind. Wait till my friend comes,
+and we'll soon----(_As the door opens._) PHIL, PHIL, here's an abusive
+old female here who pretends she is your wife, and wants to order me
+out. I believe she must either be intoxicated or out of her senses!
+
+_Mrs. Toov._ (_pouncing upon the newcomer and boxing his ears
+soundly_). Is she? it is you who are out of _your_ senses, Pa! Take
+that--and _that_--and now come home with me, do you hear?
+
+_The Newcomer_ (_with his hand to his cheek_). "Pa," am I? I thought
+I was your _husband_ just now! Well, I must have married before I
+was born, either way. And now, perhaps, you'll explain what all this
+means?
+
+_Mrs. Toov._ (_faintly_). Oh, my goodness! I've made a dreadful
+mistake; it _isn't_ Pa! Let me go--let me go!
+
+_The Newc._ (_putting his back against the door_). Not yet, Ma'am; not
+yet. You don't go like this; after insulting this young lady, to whom
+I've the honour of being engaged, and telling her you're my wife, and
+then smacking my face in her presence. I've my dignity to consider,
+and I want satisfaction out of you. Come, we won't have a row here,
+for the sake of this young lady; just step out into lobby here, and
+I'll give you in charge for assault. Stay where you are, MILLY, my
+dear. Now, Ma'am, will you go, or shall I send for a constable?
+(Mrs. T. _totters out, protesting incoherently, and begging to be
+released_.) Well, I don't want to spoil my evening's pleasure on your
+account. You give me your name and address, and I'll simply summon you
+for assault; which is more than you deserve. If you won't, I'll charge
+you!
+
+_Mrs. Toov._ (_reluctantly_). Oh, indeed it was an acc----I will
+_not_ give you my name. Yes, yes, I will; anything to get out of this
+horrible place. (_The young man produces a pencil, and pulls down
+his left shirt cuff._) Mrs.--TOO--no, I don't mean TOO--TOMKINSON
+JONES--The--the Laburnums--U--upper Tooting. There, _now_ are you
+satisfied?
+
+_The Young Man_ (_recording it_). Thank you, that's all _I_ require.
+You'll hear from me later on. Good evening!
+
+_Mrs. Toov._ (_as she crawls down the staircase_). I have only just
+saved myself by a--a _fib_! And I haven't even found Pa out. But I
+_will_. I'll go straight home and sit up for him!
+
+END OF SCENE XI.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: IMPROVED GNOMENCLATURE.
+
+(_A popular Song adapted to the Glacial Period._)
+
+"ON AN ICICLE MADE FOR TWO."]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+FRAGMENTS FROM A FRANCO-RUSSIAN PHRASE-BOOK.
+
+(_Picked up at Toulon after the recent Fêtes._)
+
+AT THE BANQUET.
+
+I am glad to be next to a Russian. Believe me, France has always been
+the best friend of Russia.... No, _that_ was not France--it was the
+Corsican. Altogether a different thing.... _Were_ we at the Crimea? It
+is possible--through the perfidy of those English.... Try some of this
+old sherry. Your shark-fin soup is delicious.... As I was saying, we
+are a Republic now, and adore Liberty.... Siberia must be a charming
+place, and the climate ravishing. You have never been there? A
+pleasure to come!... Take a _carafe_ of champagne--there is plenty
+more. We are a democratic nation, and the hearts of our populace go
+out to an autocrat. I know well that all autocrats are not nice--but
+_yours!!_ _Do_ have some more champagne.... These are _Cailles
+Schuvaroff_. They are Russian--so they _must_ be good!... Do you know
+that my wife and I kissed the hands of (_ten--fifteen--fifty--two
+hundred_) Russian sailors through the portholes of your flagship this
+afternoon?... Not at all--we quite enjoyed it.... There is a proposal
+to present your Admiral with a model of the Tour Eiffel in brilliants.
+I remember it was exhibited in Paris at a franc for admission--but
+few people went. I wish he may get it. I subscribed ten
+(_Napoleons--francs--centimes_) towards the fund for presenting
+commemorative brooches to the wives, daughters, and sweethearts of
+your seamen. I hope they will all arrive quite safely.... Have you
+received a silver cup with a suitable inscription? Only a yellow
+champagne-glass with a motto! That is mean, miserable, shabby! I will
+speak to a waiter about it.... Why do you not drink? Fill your glass.
+I am filling mine.... Have you heard that our warm-hearted nation has
+forwarded to the Russian Fleet one hundred cases of the best blacking?
+The Triple Alliance is trembling in its shoes.... You drink nothing!
+All the same, it seems to me your Tsar might have sent _more_ ships
+while he was about it. Yes, I repeat; more--and bigger ones. It would
+have been more polished. But you Russians are _not_ polished; you are
+cold, brutal, phlegmatic. You remind me of an Englishman I once saw
+on the stage of the Variétés. But he had red whiskers, and said, "Aoh,
+yes!" You drink too much. The Russians are all intemperate--it is the
+climate. So long as you help us to our revenge, we do not care _what_
+you are. I speak quite frankly. This is a great day for France. As
+a Frenchman, I shall never see caviar again without a thrill of
+heartfelt emotion. But your shark-fin soup was disgusting--beastly. It
+is that which is making me so ill.... _Au revoir_, dear friend. I am
+going under the table for a little while--to think.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Mrs. R. wants to know what was the classic story about Ajax and
+Telephone? "So," says she, "as _that_ was hundreds of years ago, it
+isn't such a _very_ new invention."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: UNCALLED-FOR REVELATIONS.
+
+_Tommy_ (_to Caller_). "OH, WE'VE BEEN HAVING SUCH FUN! PAPA HAS BEEN
+PUTTING ON MAMMA'S HAIR AND FRIGHTENING BABY!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+LITTLE MASTER MINORITY.
+
+_A Dialogue in Dialect, some way after Bret Harte's "Jim."_
+
+    [Referring, in the course of conversation, to the deadlock
+    in the Senate, Mr. CHAMBERLAIN said:--"My opinion is that the
+    Americans are the most patient people on the globe. Such
+    an outcome from an organised system of obstruction would be
+    impossible in England, which I venture to say, with my foot on
+    New York soil, is far more democratic than America. Democracy,
+    as I take it, means the government of the people by the
+    people."--_The "Times'" New York Correspondent, Oct. 13._]
+
+  "C[oe]lum, non (?) animum, mutant, qui trans mare currunt."
+
+_Jonathan to Joseph, loquitur:_--
+
+  Say thar! P'r'aps
+  You're of them chaps
+  _Approve_ this child,
+  Who makes _me_ wild!--
+  _No?_--no offence:
+  Thar ain't much sense
+    In gittin' riled!
+
+  JOE, old chum,
+    Welcome ye are!
+  Say! Ye've jest come
+    Up from down thar.
+  Lookin' round, JOE?
+    That's right, Sir! _You_
+    Ain't of that crew
+      Makes freedom rar'.
+
+  _Tory?_ Not much,
+    That ain't _my_ kind:
+  I ain't no such,--
+    Democrat--blind!
+  Rayther like _you_!
+
+  Well, this yer boy
+  (With his derned toy),
+  Is a fair limb.--
+  Not much--in size!
+  Stirs _your_ surprise?--
+  Wal, that _is_ strange:
+    _Your_ nipper, now,
+    Riz up some row,
+  Down under thar,
+  Ony this year!
+
+  Since you came here.
+    You've felt a change!
+  Wal, he licks _us_!
+        Eh?
+  _Spank him_, you say!
+        _Spank?_--
+  _This_ little cuss?
+
+  You make me star,--
+  Down under, thar,
+  Minorities stop
+  Truck--in your shop,
+  And _you_ don't rar'!
+    Here, wide awake
+    To our mistake.
+  _Our_ boy you bar!
+
+        _Spank!_--
+  This--little--cuss?
+  Wal, he does fuss,
+  Raises a muss.
+    His "Silver" whim,
+  His spoutin' prank--
+    (Leather-lung'd limb!)
+  Does crab the swim.
+    _Should_ like to yank
+      Him crost my knees,
+    And--but thar! spank
+        _Him?_
+
+  _Patient_, Sir--I?
+    No democrat?
+  Here, Sir, stand by!
+    I can't stand _that_!
+  _You_ wouldn't stand
+  _Him_--in your land?
+        Eh?
+  What's that you say?
+  Why, dern it!--sho!--
+  Draw it mild, JOE!
+
+        Bold?
+  Obstruction? Yes!
+  Still, as I guess--
+  Though I'll confess
+    _You_'re an authority--
+  'Tain't no new thing
+  (_You_'ve had your fling!),
+    But ornery,
+      Derned old,
+    Loud-lunged--Minority!
+      Little--Master--Minority!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.
+
+_Barabbas_ is a romance by MARIE CORELLI, founded upon the narrative
+given by the Four Evangelists. It is in three volumes, and _Barabbas_
+is the principal character. Oratorios have been composed musically
+illustrating the sacred story, mystery plays there have been showing
+it forth in action, but never yet have we been taken, as it were,
+behind the scenes, introduced to JUDAS ISCARIOT'S sister, and been
+informed as to the motives of human action underlying "the World's
+Tragedy." Whether "the stock of _Barabbas_" hath been sold out or not,
+the Baron cannot imagine that this novel form of treating Holy Writ
+will ever be popular with any section of our ordinary reading public.
+MARIE CORELLI is a writer as picturesque as prolific, but she has
+wasted her time and talents on this romance. There used to be a
+perversion of the text, which took this form, "Now BARABBAS was--a
+publisher" (was it SYDNEY SMITH'S jest?); but if that applies
+nowadays, the publisher who depended solely upon this particular work
+for his success would, probably, far nearer resemble ZACCHEUS than
+BARABBAS, inasmuch as he might find himself "up a tree."
+
+_Catriona_ is written by R. L. STEVENSON, and published in one volume
+by CASSELL & CO. "Aweel, aweel, mon!" quoth the Baron, after several
+praiseworthy attempts at mastering the Scotch dialect in which the
+story is told; "aweel, aweel! I am swier to leave ye, _Catriona_!
+But it maun be as it will; I'm nane sae muckle learned in your Scotch
+tongue; sae I'll e'en put doun the book, or I'll be wearyful, deil hae
+'t!" No: Scotch the Baron cannot manage--except taken as whiskey. But
+he will tell those who love the language that MCSTEVENSON'S _Catriona_
+they will enjoy to their heart's content. All the same it remains a
+mystery to the Baron de B. W.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+IN HIGH FEATHER.--It would not be fair even, for Mr. HUDSON, to define
+all ladies wearing feathers as "a Feather-headed Lot."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: LITTLE MASTER MINORITY.
+
+BROTHER JONATHAN. "WA'AL, MR. JOSEPH; I GUESS ALL YOUR SYMPATHIES ARE
+WITH THIS LITTLE CUSS?"
+
+MR. CHAMBERLAIN. "NOT AT ALL, NOT AT ALL,--ON _YOUR_ SIDE OF THE
+ATLANTIC!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: THE BOOM IN BEETLES--THE LATEST FROM AFRICA.
+
+["The new arrival at the Zoo is a specimen of the Goliath Beetle from
+West Africa--a giant even among its own kind."--_Daily Graphic._]]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+TO A LOST FRIEND.
+
+(_By a Briefless Barrister._)
+
+  No more! alas! completely gone,
+    No shadow of a trace is left,
+  And I have still to linger on,
+    Of your companionship bereft,
+  And fight the battle to the end,
+  As best I may with one less friend.
+
+  It seems a cruel stroke of Fate.
+    How eagerly I watched you grow!
+  How much I loved you; how elate
+    When other people came to know
+  On what I always had insisted--
+  That you in point of fact existed.
+
+  I played with you, who every day
+    Grew more responsive to my touch.
+  I stroked you in the gentlest way,
+    With sweet caresses. Ah! how much
+  We seemed, as though a child and mother,
+  To be bound up in one another.
+
+  You _did_ appear to like me then,
+    No mere lip-service seemingly
+  Was that you rendered to me when
+    You never contradicted me,
+  But hung upon my words, though true
+  It also was they hung on you.
+
+  And then one day you disappeared,
+    Cut off in life's most sunny prime.
+  I missed you sadly as I feared
+    And thought I should do at the time.
+  Though now your image comes and plain
+  Grows on me sometimes once again.
+
+  Oh! my moustache! I did the deed,
+    I own it frankly, I alone.
+  I felt it (for it made me bleed),
+    Yet still you always must have known,
+  Though you were of proportions regal,
+  You hardly helped me to look legal.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A TRIUMPH IN COOKERY.--When the Cook makes a hash of the marrow-bones.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"HE IS A MANN, TAKE HIM FOR ALL IN ALL, WE NEVER WANT TO LOOK UPON HIS
+LIKE AGAIN." (_Shakspeare adapted_).--It is said he is going to join
+the Ministry--not the Cabinet--but that of the Established Church. But
+how will so independent a spirit ever submit to "take orders" from an
+Archbishop? This is to reduce himself from a MANN to a Mannikin. Not
+likely.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+UP TO DATE TRANSLATION.--"_Qu'est-ce qu'il y a sur le tapis?_"
+asked the Frenchman. "You mean 'what's on the tape?'" returned the
+Englishman.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE IDEAL DRAMA.
+
+  Oh think what a change would soon be wrought
+    In sins society now condones,
+  Were virtue and honesty properly taught
+    By Comedy's smiles and Tragedy's groans!
+  The peer, the scholar, the fool, the fop,
+    Could learn deportment, high-class, tip-top,
+  From a _Dancing Girl_ in a _Bauble Shop_--
+    At least so thinks Mr. H. A. JONES.
+
+  We shall call it "the work," and not "the play,"
+    When due solemnity prompts the tones
+  Of serious actors, more grave than gay;
+    They may be bores, but they won't be drones.
+  So learn, should you wish to have a spree,
+    What your Criterion ought to be,
+  Or the _Tempter_ will put you up a Tree.
+    Hear eloquent Mr. H. A. JONES!
+
+  Amusement? What! Do you dare to think
+    That those respectable classic crones,
+  Melpomene, Thalia, they should sink
+    To make you laugh, like a nigger Bones?
+  If you should expect to be amused,
+  Your money would simply be refused,
+  And you would be turned away, abused
+    By furious Mr. H. A. JONES.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: THE ETERNAL FITNESS OF THINGS.
+
+"AND WHAT IS YOUR NAME?"
+
+"MARIAN WATSON. BUT MY LAST MISTRESS USED TO CALL ME MARY, BECAUSE
+MARIAN ISN'T A PROPER NAME FOR A SERVANT, SHE SAID."]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+REPARTEES FOR THE RAILWAY.
+
+"Smoking not allowed." Of course, but I am going to enjoy my cigar in
+silence.
+
+"Want the window closed." Very sorry, but I can't find a cathedral.
+
+"Find my journal a nuisance." Dear me! was under the impression it was
+a newspaper.
+
+"Allow you to pass." Afraid only the Secretary can manage that for
+you; he alone has power to issue free tickets.
+
+"Do I mind the draught?" Not when I am attending to the chessman.
+
+"Do I know the station?" Of the people on the platform? Probably lower
+middle class.
+
+"Is this right for Windsor?" Yes, if it's not left for somewhere else.
+
+"Are we allowed five minutes for lunch?" Think not; but you can have
+sandwiches at the counter.
+
+"Isn't this first-class?" Quite excellent--first-rate--couldn't be
+better!
+
+"I want to go second." Then you had better follow me.
+
+"I am third." Indeed! And who were first and second?
+
+"I think this must be London." Very likely; if it is, it mustn't be
+anywhere else.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A CRY TO WHYMPER.--Last Wednesday Mr. EDWARD WHYMPER lectured at the
+Birkbeck. His subject was "_Twenty thousand feet above the Sea._"
+"That's ten thousand pairs of boots!" writes our shoemaker. "Wish I'd
+had the order! Well, well, soled again!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A WALK IN DEVON.
+
+PART I.--THE START.
+
+_Notes from the Travel Diary of Toby, M.P._
+
+  _The Cottage, Burrow-in-the-Corner, Devon._
+
+Went out for a walk just now; nothing remarkable in that; the wonder
+came in when I got back. Present postal address given at head of this
+note. The Cottage is there all right, but where the township, hamlet,
+village, or whatever Burrow-in-the-Corner may be, is situated, haven't
+the least idea, and I've tramped pretty well round the country. The
+Cottage stands at four cross roads, on the top of a hill. Specks in
+the distance, in the valley and on the hillsides, understood to be
+farm-houses. Three miles off is Tipperton; it is approached from this
+point by a steep hill: most convenient way of getting to bottom is to
+lie down on top and roll; some people said to have become adepts in
+practise; can even enjoy quiet sleep on the way, and pull up at the
+very shop in High Street where they have business. So it is said; but
+I rarely see any people about Burrow-in-the-Corner; so how can they
+approach Tipperton in this or other way? The only persons that pass
+The Cottage palings are men who stop to ask their way. The population
+is sparse, and seems to fill up its time by losing itself. This should
+have been a warning to me, but it wasn't.
+
+The Cottage been standing here for at least two hundred years. Began
+life as a smithy; only recently retired from business. The initials of
+one of its tenants are "R. B." He has carved the letters on the front
+door, with the date, 1813, following it. Fancy he must have been
+pretty old then, for, two years later, he cuts his initials again
+with date 1815; the writing quite shakey; possibly he had heard of
+Waterloo, and his hand was tremulous with patriotic joy. On second
+thought, that improbable. News of Waterloo not likely to have reached
+Burrow-in-the-Corner within limit of twelve months.
+
+The smithy still stands as "R. B." left it when his bellows blew their
+last gasp. The Cottage itself transformed. The thatched roof remains;
+also the whitewashed walls, the porch, the little windows embayed in
+thick walls, which quite naturally form window-seats, where, if you
+take care not to bang your head, you may sit at ease, and look out
+over the swelling upland--rich red where it has just been ploughed;
+for the most part green pastures trending down to the Exe, a silver
+stream, rippling on to the sea, reckless of all it will pass through
+before it joins it. We have a parlour, but prefer to sit in the
+kitchen, a dainty room with gleaming dark-red sideboard; a kitchener,
+polished to distraction, so that looking-glasses are superfluities; a
+piano in recess by fireplace; a chimney-piece, on which gleam copper
+pans, brass candlesticks, and pewter plates, with their initials and
+ancient birth-dates polished almost out of sight; white-curtained
+windows, bright with begonias and cyclamen; a low ceiling, supported
+by a pragmatical beam, strictly conforming to the regulation that
+forbids a straight line in the room.
+
+Have discovered that kitchen is best place in house to dine in; only
+drawback is that everything served so unexpectedly hot, new-comers
+scald themselves. Soon grow used to it, and to get grilled mushrooms
+served really hot is compensation for inconvenience. As for pancakes
+(made with freshly-laid eggs), begin to think I never tasted the real
+delicacy before. Your true pancake, as BRILLAT-SAVARIN omitted to say
+in his well-known treatise, should be eaten to the music of the one
+in the pan preparing to follow. When we go back to town, mean to ask
+servants to sit in dining-room whilst we dine in kitchen.
+
+When I speak of going back to town, of course I imply the certainty
+of being able to find our way out of Burrow-in-the-Corner to nearest
+railway station.
+
+Seems a good deal to have four cross roads all to yourself at your
+front door. The Cottage scarcely of sufficient importance to justify
+such lavish accommodation. But in these parts the amount of arable
+land wasted in roads and lanes is almost criminal. It was a Saturday
+evening when I went out to find the post-office. Nothing seemed
+plainer than instructions.
+
+[Illustration: LIKA JOKO'S JOTTINGS.--No. 2. PHEASANT SHOOTING.]
+
+"Go straight down the road facing you, and you'll come to a church.
+Close by it is a house; letter-box inserted in side of house; box
+painted red, you know."
+
+Of course I knew; set off with a light heart and handful of letters.
+A little way down high road, on right-hand side, lane suddenly opened
+and delved downwards, its sinuous course embowered in trees; where
+they failed, barricaded with hedges. High road seemed originally bent
+upon taking this direction; changed its mind; turned abruptly to left.
+Suppose a few traps driven down hill must occasionally have taken this
+dip; feeble attempt to avoid too frequent recurrence of accident made
+by setting posts on line of high road, and painting tops white. If,
+after this, anyone on pitch-dark night mistakes road, only themselves
+to blame. Other roads and lanes perplexingly branching out to right
+and left at short intervals; kept on steadily till church came in
+view; found the house; not difficult, as there was only one; also
+discovered letter-box painted red. Twenty minutes to five was hour for
+clearing box; barely that; posted letters. Turning away when observed
+remark on letter-box, "Next collection Monday."
+
+Pretty go, this; postman evidently been before his time; no sign of
+him on wide expanse. Looking round perceived Elderly Gentleman sitting
+in garden behind house; doubtless this was the householder; apparently
+had anticipated Sunday by putting on best clothes; black frock coat,
+getting brown about the seams; high collar, nearly covering black
+stock; black waistcoat, which seemed to belong to other suit than the
+coat; (was buttoned close up over stock, whilst coat, with generous
+lapels folded back, buttoned low down); brown trousers, a little short
+in leg; stout green umbrella under left arm. Elderly Gentleman was
+sitting on rustic bench, with cup of cider at hand, and expression of
+serene content on his wrinkled face. A quaintly-coloured cup, with two
+handles close together, presumably with view to taking a good pull
+at contents. "Bin my grandfather's," he said, looking at it with
+affection, and incidentally half emptying it. There was a motto
+roughly scrawled by the potter; Elderly Gentleman read it to me:
+
+              Erth I am et es most trew,
+              Disdain me not for so be yew.
+
+Thus it was spelled, but no one born out of Devon could convey the
+tremendous sound of the _u_ in the rhyming words. This peculiar to the
+soil; even barndoor fowls have it; notice that gamecock at The
+Cottage when it wakes me early in the morning, always shrilly pipes
+"cock-a-doodle-_dew_!" Asked Elderly Gentleman if he lived here?
+Born in the house, he said. Was he going for a walk? No, only sitting
+about. Then why the umbrella? Ah! he always took it out of drawer with
+his Sunday clothes, and put it under his arm, if he was only sitting
+in the garden.
+
+But that's another story, told me after we had caught the postman.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"THE ART OF 'SAVOY FARE.'"
+
+Mr. D'OYLY CARTE is to be heartily congratulated on his brilliant
+mounting of Messrs. GILLIVAN and SULBERT'S most recent production
+entitled _Utopia (Limited)_. "Limited" it is in more senses than one.
+As there was, according to the immortal _Cyrus Bantam, M.C._, when he
+was giving his information to _Mr. Pickwick_, "nobody old or ugly in
+Ba-ath," so there is on "the spindle side" no one old or ugly on the
+stage of the Savoy Theatre. And this, too, with a difference, applies
+to Sir ARTHUR'S music, in which if there be nothing particularly
+new--and the old familiar friends receive the heartiest welcome--there
+is at all events nothing dull, even though it may "hardly ever" rise
+above mere commonplace. Occasionally there is a snatch of sweet melody
+that brings to mind the composer's happiest inspirations, whether in
+oratorio or burlesque.
+
+As to dramatic plot--well, strictly speaking, there is none; and it
+would be difficult to name a single telling "situation," in _Utopia
+(Limited)_. The Monarch of Utopia wishes to introduce English customs
+into his kingdom; there is a court party opposed to this innovation:
+that's the essence of it. In the First Act the one hit, is the
+introduction of _Captain Corcoran_ from _The Pinafore_ of years
+ago, and the repetition of the once popular catch-phrase about "What
+never?" and "Hardly ever," which, taken as applying to our most recent
+tragical ironclad disaster, is thoroughly appreciated. Beyond this,
+as far as dialogue and music go, in the First Act there is very little
+anyone would care to "carry away with him" after a first visit. And
+if that little were carried away the residuum would offer scant
+attraction.
+
+[Illustration: THE UNION OF ARTS. "Again we come to thee,
+Savoy."--_Old Duet._]
+
+As for the Second Act, with its Royal Drawing-room scene, its splendid
+costumes, and its mimicry of Court etiquette, have we not witnessed a
+similar spectacle on a larger scale in a Drury Lane Pantomime, not so
+very many years ago? And was not that arranged by the same artistic
+stage-manager, who is now, by a wise dispensation of theatrical
+providence, in command at the Savoy, yclept Mr. CHARLES HARRIS? I
+fancy the Drury Lane Pantomime had the best of it in point of broad
+fun, as, if I remember right, HERBERT CAMPBELL was the Queen, and
+HARRY NICHOLLS the King. Before this scene is the principal hit of
+the Second Act, when the King, Mr. BARRINGTON,--to whom author and
+composer are under considerable obligations for the success of
+the piece, and without whose acting, dancing, and singing the
+entertainment would fare indifferently well,--with his counsellors,
+an admiral, a Lord Chamberlain, and so forth, place their chairs in
+a row, and detaching from the back of each seat a musical instrument,
+turn themselves into a St. James's ("Hall" not "Court") Christy
+Minstrel Company, Unlimited, of which Mr. BARRINGTON, as the _Mr.
+Johnson_, is the life and soul. Is this the remarkably original
+creation of the united intellects of Messrs. GILBERT and SULLIVAN?
+Have they ever heard of, or did either of them ever see a burlesque
+entitled _Black Eye'd Susan_ at the Royalty, which ran a long way over
+six hundred nights, and in later days was revived at the Opera
+Comique and elsewhere? I will quote from the _Times_' notice of that
+burlesque:--
+
+    "The court-martial arranged after the fashion of the
+    Christy's orchestra, every admiral being dressed in a colour
+    corresponding to his title, an actual 'nigger' figuring as
+    Admiral of the Black, is another odd device which keeps the
+    audience in a roar."
+
+And it is this "odd device," with a Lord Chancellor, if I remember
+right, or some legal luminary in black, for one of the "corner men,"
+which is, after all is said, sung, and done, just the one thing (of
+the two in the show) that brings down the house, and is applauded
+to the echo as the outcome of the combined whimsical originality of
+Messrs. GILBERT and SULLIVAN! Imitation being the sincerest flattery,
+the author of _Black Eye'd Susan_ must be indeed gratified by this
+tribute to his original success paid by the librettist and the
+composer of _Utopia_, and having no further use for this particular
+bit of humour, he will, no doubt, be willing to make a present of it,
+free of charge, for nightly use, to the distinguished Savoyards as a
+practical congratulation to the pair of them on their return to the
+scene of some of their former triumphs.
+
+Mr. BARRINGTON is the life and soul of the show; withdraw him, and
+then there would be precious little left to draw, excepting, of
+course, the _mise en scène_, due to Messrs. HARRIS and CARTE, if I may
+put the HARRIS before the CARTE,--and to the Scenic Artist, CRAVEN.
+Nor must I forget to mention the Electric Lightists, Messrs. LYONS and
+KERR, which last is a queer combination of names, from the king of
+the forest to the lowest of snappy dogs. Miss ROSINA BRANDRAM is, of
+course, excellent in what she has to do, and Miss NANCY MCINTOSH is
+equal to the occasion of her appearance. PERCY ANDERSON'S costumes are
+gorgeous and artistic; and to the "Parisian Diamond Company" are due
+the gems of the piece. The dances are by the ever fertile and agile
+D'AUBAN, and everybody who has contributed to the success of the show
+obtains honourable mention in the neat programme-card.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Inquirer" writes: "I see an advertisement of a series called '_The
+Aldine Poets_.' Exceptional bards I suppose, as I was always given
+to understand that poets rarely eat anything. Will this series be
+followed by '_The Allunch Poets_,' _The Allbreakfast Poets_,' and
+'_The Allsup Poets'_? The last-mentioned, of course, will sing in
+praise of ALLSUP'S Ale."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Note:
+
+Missing or damaged punctuation has been repaired.
+
+
+Page 197: 'wav' corrected to 'way'
+
+"There's no entrance to the music-hall this way."
+
+Page 197: 'champage' corrected to 'champagne'
+
+"Take a _carafe_ of champagne--there is plenty more."
+
+Page 204: 'aRd' corrected to 'and'
+
+"What never?" and "Hardly ever," which, taken as applying to our
+most recent tragical ironclad disaster, is thoroughly appreciated.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari,
+October 28th 1893, by Various
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+  .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: 10%; 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, October
+28th 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, October 28th 1893
+
+Author: Various
+
+Release Date: April 3, 2012 [EBook #39362]
+
+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="page193" id="page193"></a>[pg 193]</span>
+
+<hr class="full" />
+
+<h1>Punch, or the London Charivari</h1>
+
+<h2>Volume 105, October 28th 1893</h2>
+
+<h4><i>edited by Sir Francis Burnand</i></h4>
+
+<hr class="full" />
+
+<h2>MY LANDLORD.</h2>
+
+<h4>(<i>By a Tenant.</i>)</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">  <div class="stanza">
+<p>Who asked a rent absurdly high;</p>
+<p>Who never scrupled at a lie?</p>
+<p>The house well built! The soil so dry!</p>
+<p class="i4">My Landlord.</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>Whose saving schemes cause constant fears</p>
+<p>The house will fall about my ears?</p>
+<p>I say it totters, and he sneers.</p>
+<p class="i4">My Landlord.</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>The cellar's flooded when it rains;</p>
+<p>The ceilings show damp, mouldy stains.</p>
+<p>Who swindled me about the drains?</p>
+<p class="i4">My Landlord.</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>Who called the house extremely nice?</p>
+<p>It's simply overrun with mice,</p>
+<p>The cook has had hysterics twice.</p>
+<p class="i4">My Landlord.</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>Who praised the garden in a way</p>
+<p>To seem like Eden? I should say</p>
+<p>The soil is brickbats mixed with clay.</p>
+<p class="i4">My Landlord.</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>Who said each kind of plant succeeds?</p>
+<p>Yet when I sow the choicest seeds</p>
+<p>They all develop into weeds.</p>
+<p class="i4">My Landlord.</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>What's this? A note from him&mdash;a few</p>
+<p>Short lines to say the rent is due.</p>
+<p>Who tells me facts not new, if true?</p>
+<p class="i4">My Landlord.</p>
+  </div>  </div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">A Suggestion.</span>&mdash;A decoration for
+<span class="sc">Jabez Balfour</span>,&mdash;"The Order of the Golden Fleece."</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"><a href="images/193-800.png"><img src="images/193-400.png" width="400" height="524" alt="RECKLESS." /></a>
+<h2 class="sans">RECKLESS.</h2>
+
+<p><i>Moderate Swell.</i> "<span class="sc">Going to take a Cab</span>?"</p>
+
+<p><i>Immoderate Swell.</i> "<span class="sc">Er&mdash;no</span>."</p>
+
+<p><i>M. S.</i> "<span class="sc">No Umbrella, I see</span>."</p>
+
+<p><i>Imm. S.</i> "<span class="sc">Er&mdash;no, dear Boy. See&mdash;if you&mdash;er&mdash;carry
+'brella&mdash;Looks as if you'd only One Suit a Clothes!</span>"</p></div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<h2>MY TENANT.</h2>
+
+<h4>(<i>By a Landlord.</i>)</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">  <div class="stanza">
+<p>Who haggled long about the price;</p>
+<p>Who says my house is far from nice;</p>
+<p>Who seeks solicitor's advice?</p>
+<p class="i4">My Tenant.</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>Who wants incessantly repairs</p>
+<p>To floors and ceilings, steps and stairs;</p>
+<p>Who doats on hygienic scares?</p>
+<p class="i4">My Tenant.</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>Who lives in fear of sewer gas,</p>
+<p>So that the plumbers soon amass</p>
+<p>Vast sums, once mine? That utter ass,</p>
+<p class="i4">My Tenant.</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>Eternally some fresh complaint;</p>
+<p>Distemper, whitewash, paper, paint!</p>
+<p>He is enough to vex a saint&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i4">My Tenant.</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>Who lets the garden go to pot?</p>
+<p>What used to be a pleasant spot</p>
+<p>Is worse than an allotment plot.</p>
+<p class="i4">My Tenant.</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>Deferring payments suits his bent;</p>
+<p>When various demands I've sent;</p>
+<p>Unwillingly he pays the rent,</p>
+<p class="i4">My Tenant.</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>A note from him? Another growl!</p>
+<p>Some chimney smokes, he wants a cowl.</p>
+<p>Thus he complains, that moping owl,</p>
+<p class="i4">My Tenant.</p>
+  </div>  </div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p class="ind1">Mrs. R. says she always understood
+you must "catch your hare before you
+cook it;" so she cannot for the life
+of her make out what a friend of
+hers meant by telling her that "when
+their kitchen-maid cooked the hare
+<i>she caught it afterwards</i>!"</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<h2>A DIARY À LA RUSSE.</h2>
+
+<p><i>Monday.</i>&mdash;Rather tired of this constant hand-shaking, and even
+the lady-kissing is somewhat wearisome. Especially when the fair
+dames do not draw the line at sixty. However, no doubt well meant.
+Found usual collection of miscellaneous presents. Don't quite know
+what I shall do with ton of tallow. Somehow our hosts fancy we
+require it. Latest addition from the advertising merchants&mdash;a
+Patent Tombstone (with space for <i>affiches</i> at back) and Somebody's
+Remedy for Neuralgia. Wish our hosts would not send us such a
+lot of things! Have been staying at my hotel all day long on the
+chance of escaping attention, and thus be able to find my way to the
+Moulin Rouge. Just got past the porter, when I was caught by one
+of the <i>attachés</i> and carried off to a State Dinner. Spent the rest of
+the evening in shouting "Long Live France!" and listening to the
+Russian National Hymn.</p>
+
+<p><i>Tuesday.</i>&mdash;Hope I shall have better luck to-day. My hand is
+twice its normal size, thanks to the shaking. More presents.
+Candles by the hundredweight, and bear's-grease by the ton. Some
+one has sent a Boot-blacking Machine, and wants a testimonial. On
+the watch all day. Trust to get to the Folies Bergères some time or
+another. Just crawled out when seized by a friendly <i>député</i>, and
+hurried off to a function at the Hotel de Ville!</p>
+
+<p><i>Wednesday.</i>&mdash;Absolutely done up. Deafened with the "<i>Marseillaise</i>,"
+and sick to death of "<i>The Emperor's Hymn</i>." Usual
+collection of presents. Five thousand fire-alarms! One of them
+alone enough to wake up a slumbering town of half a million inhabitants!
+Ladies of all ages (especially of mature age) anxious to
+kiss me. Could not walk across the road this morning for them!
+Had to stop in the hotel all day long. Tried to escape in the evening
+on the chance of finding my way to a "concert-music-hall," when
+seized by an officer of the French Marine, and carried away to a Reception!</p>
+
+<p><i>Thursday.</i>&mdash;I have now been in Paris four days and seen
+nothing, absolutely nothing! Of course most gratifying from a
+patriotic point of view, but if this is Paris why give me St. Petersburg,
+or even Siberia! Can't move a step without having my hand shaken
+off. Not a moment's privacy; and as for the presents, I am absolutely
+deluged with them! and such idiotic gifts! All the advertisers
+in the country seem to have found us out. What use on earth
+can I make of an elephant's feeding-spoon or a lady's comb for curling
+the hair? I made a last effort to get to the Moulin; but, of course,
+again frustrated. I was seized by an "A.-D.-C." and taken to a State Lecture!</p>
+
+<p><i>Friday.</i>&mdash;Giving way to despair! What a hollow thing is popular
+applause! I am absolutely tired to death of it. I cannot repeat
+(for very weariness), the various ovations I have received. I have
+been accepted with cheers at all hours of the day and night! Oh,
+how glad I would be to get back! At the last moment I saw my
+way to a stealthy visit to the Folies, when I was secured and booked
+for two dinners and a "<i>punch</i>." Betrayed! Betrayed!</p>
+
+<p><i>Saturday.</i>&mdash;Still hunted. Not allowed to go anywhere except
+when my tormentors drag me to some official function. Have sold all
+my presents for ten francs. Have received marching orders for
+Toulon. Just as I was about to escape and proceed to the Moulin
+Rouge, captured by "my friends the enemy," or should it be "my
+enemies the friends"? Had to submit to the usual enthusiasm on my
+road to the railway station. Fortune of war I suppose, or rather of
+peace. Of the two, the latter I should think was the more deadly.
+Last strain of the "<i>Marseillaise</i>," last kiss from some one's grandmother,
+and curtain! Glad it's all over!</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p class="ind1"><span class="sc">By Mr. Justice Charles</span> (<i>omitted in reports of his decision last
+week</i>).&mdash;"The Dahomey Troupe of Amazons appear only in the
+evenings at certain music-halls. Their name should be changed to
+'Day-homey and Night-outy Amazons.'"</p>
+
+<p class="author2">(<i>Signed</i>)</p>
+<p class="author1">"<span class="sc">Charles his Friend.</span>"</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p class="ind1"><span class="sc">The Cheshire Cruelty To Children Case.</span>&mdash;Rightly were
+condemned the two unfeeling <span class="sc">Phelans</span>. No jury could possibly
+have any consideration for such <span class="sc">Phelans</span> as these. If for the male
+prisoner the jury had recommended a tail or two of the Cheshire Cat
+(o'-nine-tails), it would not have been thought too much.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p class="ind1"><span class="sc">Motto for Mr. Inderwick, Q.C.</span>&mdash;The eminent Counsel of the
+<span class="sc">Queen</span> has been recently admitted to the freedom of the borough of
+Rye. He has added to his coat of arms the words, "Mind your Rye."</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p class="ind1"><span class="sc">New Descriptive Title of the G. O. M. suggested by Lord
+Salisbury's Latest Speech.</span>&mdash;"The Autocrat of the Round Table."</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page194" id="page194"></a>[pg 194]</span>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"><a href="images/194-1500.png"><img src="images/194-600.png" width="600" height="445" alt="'EMINENTLY A SCOTTISH GOVERNMENT.'" /></a>
+<h2 class="sans">"EMINENTLY A SCOTTISH GOVERNMENT."</h2>
+
+<p class="center">(<i>Mr. Asquith's Speech, Tuesday, October 17.</i>)</p></div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page195" id="page195"></a>[pg 195]</span>
+
+<h3>THE SAX SCOTCH PIPERS.</h3>
+
+<blockquote><p>
+["The present Government is eminently a
+Scottish Government. You must remember that
+there are in the present Cabinet no less than five
+Scotch members of the House of Commons ...
+and we have also a member of the House of Lords
+who is one of the most eminent Scotchmen&mdash;I
+mean Lord <span class="sc">Rosebery</span>."&mdash;<i>Mr. Asquith in Glasgow.</i>]
+</p></blockquote>
+
+<div class="poem">  <div class="stanza">
+<p>"<i>A Sassenach chief may be bonily built</i>,</p>
+<p><i>He may purchase a sporran, a bonnet, a kilt;</i></p>
+<p><i>Stick a skeän in his hose&mdash;wear an acre of stripes</i>&mdash;</p>
+<p><i>But he cannot assume an affection for pipes</i>."</p>
+</div>  <div class="stanza">
+<p class="i24">&mdash;<i>Bab Ballads</i>.</p>
+</div>  </div>
+
+<h3><span class="sc">Air</span>&mdash;"<i>The Hundred Pipers.</i>"</h3>
+
+<div class="poem">  <div class="stanza">
+<p>Wi' sax stalwart pipers an' a', an' a',</p>
+<p class="i2">Wi' sax Scotch pipers an' a', an' a',</p>
+<p>We'll up an' gie them a blaw, a blaw,</p>
+<p class="i2">Wi' sax stout Scotch pipers an' a', an' a',</p>
+<p>Oh! it's Sassenach bummlers awa', awa'!</p>
+<p class="i2">Our <span class="sc">Wullie's</span> a Scotsman sae braw, sae braw,</p>
+<p>We'll on an' we'll march to St. Stephen's ha',</p>
+<p class="i2">Wi' its seats an' its salaries an' a', an' a'!</p>
+<p class="i4">Wi' sax Scotch pipers an' a', an' a', &amp;c.</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>Oh! wha' is formaist o' a', o' a'?</p>
+<p class="i2">Oh! wha' does follow the blaw, the blaw?</p>
+<p>Bonnie <span class="sc">Wullie</span>, the king o' us a', hurrah!</p>
+<p class="i2">Wi' his five stout pipers an' a', an' a'!</p>
+<p>His bonnet an' feather he's wavin' high.</p>
+<p class="i2">His bagpipes wheeze, an' his ribbons fly;</p>
+<p>The nor' win' plays wi' his thin white hair,</p>
+<p class="i2">While the pipers blaw wi' an unco' flare.</p>
+<p class="i4">Wi' sax Scotch pipers an' a', an' a', &amp;c.</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p><span class="sc">Primrose</span>, an' <span class="sc">Campbell</span>, sae dink an' sae deep,</p>
+<p class="i2">Shouther to shouther wi' <i>Marjoribanks</i> they keep,</p>
+<p><span class="sc">Robertson</span>, <span class="sc">Balfour</span>, an' <span class="sc">Asher</span> a' round</p>
+<p class="i2">Dance themselves dry to the pibroch's sound.</p>
+<p>Dumfoundered the English saw, they saw,</p>
+<p class="i2">Dumfoundered they heard the blaw, the blaw</p>
+<p>Hath a Southron ae chance ava' ava',</p>
+<p class="i2">Wi' these sax Scotch pipers an' a', an' a'?</p>
+<p class="i4">Wi' the sax Scotch pipers an' a', an' a',</p>
+<p class="i4">The Saxon must go to the wa', the wa'!</p>
+<p class="i4"><span class="sc">Wullie's</span> up an' gies them a blaw, a blaw</p>
+<p class="i4">Wi' his sax Scotch pipers an' a', an' a'!</p>
+  </div>  </div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"><a href="images/195-1500.png"><img src="images/195-600.png" width="600" height="407" alt="TOO PARTICULAR." /></a>
+<h2 class="sans">TOO PARTICULAR.</h2>
+
+<p>"<span class="sc">Look here&mdash;confound it, Isaacson! You've played me a pretty Trick with this
+Ancestor you sold me! Showed it
+to a friend yesterday, and told him it was the Portrait of my Ancestor who came
+over with William the First; and
+he said, 'What a funny thing he should have dressed himself in the style of
+William the Fourth!'"</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="sc">"Vell that'th nothing. I jeth made a mithtake of a few yearth&mdash;Villiam the
+Firtht and Villiam the Fourth;
+only hith Great-Grandthon!</span>"</p></div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p class="ind1"><span class="sc">A Contribution to the celebrated Pickwickian
+Examination Paper.</span>&mdash;<i>To Students
+of Pickwick.</i>&mdash;On what (as far as this questioner
+is aware) solitary occasion is champagne
+mentioned in <i>Pickwick</i>? who drank a bottle
+of it? where was it consumed? after what
+exhilarating performance?&mdash;<span class="sc">Ed.</span></p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p class="ind1">"<span class="sc"><i>Ta ta'</i>d and Feathered.</span>"&mdash;"<i>A soft
+thing that waves</i>" was the description of a
+feather given by a Lady Correspondent&mdash;and
+therefore a perfectly Fair One&mdash;in the <i>Times</i>
+last Saturday. But surely "<i>a soft thing that
+waves</i>" is evidently a lady's hand bidding
+somebody "<i>Ta! ta!</i>"</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p class="ind2"><span class="sc">By Our Own Crammer.</span>&mdash;In unsuccessful
+candidates for Army and Navy Exams. England
+may have lost some of her best "pluck'd" soldiers and sailors.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<h3>BRIC-À-BRAC.</h3>
+
+<p class="center">(<i>By a Gallio.</i>)</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>
+["Poetry will degenerate into mere literary
+<i>bric-à-brac</i>, such as the composition of rondels and
+triolets."</p>
+<p class="author">&mdash;<span class="sc">Dr. C. H. Pearson.</span>]
+</p></blockquote>
+
+<div class="poem">  <div class="stanza">
+<p>Literary odds and ends</p>
+<p class="i2">Will for lays be scribbled!</p>
+<p><span class="sc">Pearson</span> thus ahead portends</p>
+<p class="i2">"Litter"-ary odds and ends.</p>
+<p>Pessimist, you owe amends</p>
+<p class="i2">For this forecast ribald:&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">"Literary odds and ends</p>
+<p class="i2">Will for lays be scribbled!"</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>Call you then mere <i>bric-à-brac</i></p>
+<p class="i2">Triolet and rondel?</p>
+<p><i>All</i> that's knocked off with a knack</p>
+<p>Call you then mere <i>bric-à-brac</i>?"</p>
+<p>Man of prose, you thus attack</p>
+<p class="i2"><span class="sc">Villon</span>, <span class="sc">Dobson</span>, <span class="sc">Blondel</span>.</p>
+<p>Call you <i>then</i> mere <i>bric-à-brac</i></p>
+<p class="i2">Triolet and rondel?!</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>'Pon my word, <i>I</i> don't much care</p>
+<p class="i2">If you prove your thesis.</p>
+<p>Poetry's not <i>my</i> affair&mdash;</p>
+<p>'Pon my word, I don't much care!</p>
+<p>My three triolets pray tear</p>
+<p class="i2">As you please, to pieces!</p>
+<p>'Pon my word, I don't much care</p>
+<p class="i2">If <i>they</i> prove your thesis!</p>
+  </div>  </div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p class="center">The recent illuminations in Paris, it is said,
+were a very costly matter. Naturally, as an
+"<i>affaire de <span class="sc">LUX(E)</span></i>."</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page196" id="page196"></a>[pg 196]</span>
+
+<h2>UNDER THE ROSE.</h2>
+
+<h4>(<i>A Story in Scenes.</i>)</h4>
+
+<p><span class="sc">Scene</span> XI.&mdash;<i>At the entrance to The Eldorado Music-hall.</i>
+<span class="sc">Time</span>&mdash;<i>Saturday
+evening, about</i> 8.30. Mrs. <span class="sc">Toovey</span>, <i>who has just
+alighted from a Waterloo bus, approaches; she wears a veil,
+under which her spectacles gleam balefully, and passes the
+various boards and coloured posters with averted eyes</i>.</p>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. Toovey</i> (<i>to herself</i>). I'm late&mdash;I ought to have taken a cab,
+instead of that dawdling bus. Still, I shall be in plenty of time to
+surprise Pa in the very midst of his profligacy. (<i>She looks around
+her.</i>) Gilding, rosewood and mahogany panels, plush, stained glass&mdash;oh,
+the wicked luxury of it all! (<i>She pushes open a swing door.</i>)
+Where is the place you call Box C? I&mdash;I have to meet somebody there.</p>
+
+<p class="ind2">
+[<i>She finds herself in a glittering bar, where she produces a
+distinct sensation among a few loungers there.</i>
+</p>
+
+<p><i>A Barmaid</i> (<i>tartly</i>). There's no entrance to the music-hall this
+<ins title="T.N.: Original reads 'wav'">way</ins>. You've come to the wrong place.</p>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. Toov.</i> (<i>with equal acidity</i>). Ah, young woman, you need not
+tell me <i>that</i>! (<i>She goes out with
+a withering glance, and hears
+stifled sniggers as the doors swing
+after her.</i>) A drinking-bar on the
+very threshold to trap the unwary&mdash;disgraceful!
+(<i>She tries the next door, and finds a stalwart
+official, in a fancy uniform.</i>)
+Will you have the goodness to
+conduct me to Box C, instantly?</p>
+
+<p><i>The Official.</i> Next door, please,
+Ma'am. This only admits to the Grand Lounge.</p>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. Toov.</i> (<i>to herself</i>). The
+"Grand Lounge," indeed! (<i>She
+opens another door, and finds a
+Pay-box, where she addresses the
+check-taker through the pigeon-hole</i>.) I want to go to Box C.
+I've asked for it at I don't know how many places, and&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><i>Checktaker</i> (<i>politely</i>). I'm
+really afraid you'll have to ask
+again, Ma'am. This is the Promenade.
+Box-office <i>next</i> entrance.</p>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. Toov.</i> (<i>to herself, indignantly</i>). I only hope they make it
+as difficult for other people to get
+in as they do for me! So Pa
+comes here to lounge and promenade, does he? Oh, let me only
+catch him, I'll send him promenading!
+(<i>She goes to the Box-office.</i>)
+I want Box C, wherever that is.</p>
+
+<p><i>Book-Keeper.</i> Can give you
+Box D, if you like. Box C is
+reserved for this evening.</p>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. Toov.</i> (<i>sharply</i>). I am
+quite aware of that. For Mr.
+<span class="sc">Theophilus Toovey</span>. I have come to join him here.</p>
+
+<p><i>Book-K.</i> (<i>referring to book</i>). It
+is entered in that name, certainly;
+but&mdash;hem&mdash;may I ask if you belong to Mr. <span class="sc">Toovey's</span> party?</p>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. Toov.</i> (<i>crushingly</i>). No doubt you consider that his wife has
+no claim to&mdash;&mdash; Most certainly I belong to his party.</p>
+
+<p><i>Book-K.</i> That is quite sufficient, Madam. (<i>To</i> Attendant.) Show
+this lady to Box C. (<i>To himself, as</i> Mrs. T. <i>follows the</i> Attendant
+<i>up some velvet-covered stairs</i>.) Well, it's no business of mine; but
+if Mr. <span class="sc">Toovey</span>, whoever <i>he</i> is, isn't careful what he's about, he
+may be sorry for it&mdash;that's all!</p>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. Toov.</i> (<i>to herself</i>). They never even asked for my ticket.
+Pa's evidently well known here! (<i>To</i> Attendant.) A programme?
+with pictures of dancing girls all over it! You ought to be
+ashamed to offer such things to a respectable woman!</p>
+
+<p><i>Att.</i> (<i>surprised</i>). I've never heard them objected to before, Ma'am.
+Can I bring you any refreshments? (<i>Persuasively.</i>) Bottle-ale or
+stout? Lemonade and brandy? Whisky and soda?</p>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. Toov.</i> Don't imagine you can tempt <i>me</i>, man. I've been a
+total abstainer ever since I was five!</p>
+
+<p><i>Att.</i> (<i>opening box-door</i>). Indeed, Ma'am. I suppose now you 'aven't
+mistook this for Exeter 'All?&mdash;because it <i>ain't</i>!</p>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. Toov.</i> I am in no danger of making <i>that</i> mistake! (<i>She
+enters the box.</i>) I am here before Pa after all. What a gaudy,
+wicked, glaring place to be sure! Ugh, this <i>filthy</i> tobacco; it chokes
+me, and I can scarcely see across the hall. Not that I <i>want</i> to see.
+Well, if I sit in the corner behind the curtain I shan't be seen
+myself. To think that I&mdash;<i>I</i>&mdash;should be here at all, but the responsibility
+is on Pa's head, not mine! What are those two girls
+singing about on the stage? They are dressed <i>decently</i> enough, I'll
+say <i>that</i> for them, though pinafores and baby bonnets at <i>their</i> age
+are ridiculous.</p>
+
+<p class="ind2">[<i>She listens.</i>
+</p>
+
+<p><i>The Sisters Sarcenet</i> (<i>on stage</i>). You men are deceivers and awfully sly. Oh, you <i>are</i>!</p>
+<p><i>Male portion of audience</i> (<i>as is expected from them</i>). No we <i>aren't!</i></p>
+<p><i>The Sisters S.</i> (<i>archly</i>). Now you <i>know</i> you are!</p>
+
+<div class="poem2">  <div class="stanza">
+<p class="i4">You come home with the milk; should your poor wife ask why,</p>
+<p class="i4">"Pressing business, my pet!" you serenely reply.</p>
+<p class="i4">When you've really been out on the "Tiddle-y-hi!" Yes, you <i>have</i>!</p>
+</div>  </div>
+
+<p><i>Male audience</i> (<i>as before</i>). No, we've <i>not</i>!</p>
+<p><i>The Sister S.</i> (<i>with the air of accusing angels</i>). Why, you <i>know</i> you have!</p>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. Toov.</i> (<i>to herself</i>). It's to those young women's credit that
+they have the courage to come here and denounce the men to their
+faces&mdash;like this. And it's gone
+<i>home</i> to them, too! they're shouting out "Over!" (<i>Here the
+Sisters suddenly turn a couple of
+"cart-wheels" with surprising
+unanimity, amidst roars of applause.</i>)
+Oh, the shameless minxes!
+I will <i>not</i> sit and look on at such
+scandalous exhibitions. (<i>She
+moves to the corner nearest the
+stage, and turns her back upon
+the proceedings.</i>) How much
+longer will Pa compel me to assist
+at such scenes, I wonder? <i>Why</i>
+doesn't he come? Where is he
+now? (<i>Bitterly.</i>) No doubt on
+what those vulgar wretches
+would call the "Tiddle-y-hi!"
+(<i>The</i> Brothers <span class="sc">Bimbo</span>, <i>Eccentric
+Clowns, appear on the stage</i>.) I
+can't sit here in a corner looking
+at nothing. If I do see anything
+improper, <span class="sc">Theophilus</span> shall
+answer for it. (<i>She changes her
+place again.</i>) Acrobats&mdash;well,
+they're inoffensive at least. Oh,
+I do believe one of the nasty things
+is climbing up to the balcony;
+he's going to walk along here!</p>
+
+<p><i>First Brother Bimbo</i> (<i>on stage,
+to his confrère, who is balancing
+himself on the broad ledge of the
+box tier</i>). Ohè&mdash;'old up, there.
+Prenny garde! Ah, il tombera!
+There, I <i>told</i> yer so! (<i>The</i>
+Second Brother B. <i>has reached
+the front of</i> Mrs. <span class="sc">Toovey's</span> <i>box,
+where he pretends to stumble</i>.)
+Oh, le pover garçong, look at
+'im <i>now</i>! Come back, do! Ask
+the lady to ketch 'old of your trousers be'ind!</p>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. Toov.</i> (<i>to the</i> Second
+Brother, <i>firmly</i>). Don't expect
+me to do anything of the sort. Go back, as your brother asks you
+to, you silly fellow. You shouldn't attempt such a foolhardy thing at all!</p>
+
+<p><i>Second Br. B.</i> (<i>to the</i> First). Oh, my! There's <i>such</i> a nice
+young lady in here; she's asking me to come in and set along with
+her! <i>May</i> I?</p>
+
+<p class="ind2">[<i>He lets himself drop astride the ledge, and wags his head at</i>
+Mrs. <span class="sc">Toovey</span>, <i>to her intense horror</i>.
+</p>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. Toov.</i> (<i>in an audible undertone</i>). If you don't take away
+that leg at once, I'll pinch it!</p>
+
+<p><i>Second Br. B.</i> Eh? Not <i>now</i>; my brother says I mustn't.
+"Come round afterwards?" Well, well, we'll see! (<i>He springs up
+on the ledge again, and kisses his hand to her.</i>) Goo'bye, ducky!
+'Ave no fears for <i>me</i>. Whoo-up!</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"><a href="images/196-1000.png"><img src="images/196-400.png" width="400" height="523" alt="'Goo'bye, ducky! Ave no fears for me!'" /></a>
+<p class="center">"Goo'bye, ducky! Ave no fears for <i>me</i>!"</p></div>
+
+<p class="ind2">[<i>He continues his tour of the balcony, amidst roars of laughter.</i>
+</p>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. Toov.</i> (<i>falling back in the box, speechless with fury</i>). And
+<i>this</i> is the treatment Pa exposes me to&mdash;all those unmanly wretches
+laughing at me! But I don't care; here I stay till Pa comes.
+<i>Oh</i>, this smoke; I shall be poisoned by it soon! Upon my word,
+there's a bold hussy coming on to sing, in a man's coat and black satin
+knee-breeches. I'll stop my ears; they shall see there's <i>one</i> woman
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page197" id="page197"></a>[pg 197]</span>
+here who respects herself! (<i>She does so, during that and the subsequent
+performances; an hour passes.</i>) How much longer am I to
+be compelled to remain here? This is terrible; three creatures in
+tight red suits, got up to look like devils! I wonder they've no
+fear of being struck dead on the stage! They're standing on each
+other's stomachs. I daren't look on at such blasphemy! I'll take
+off my spectacles; then, at least, my eyes won't be offended by
+seeing anything distinctly! (<i>She removes her glasses, and replaces
+them in their case, which she lays on the box-ledge.</i>) They're
+gone, thank goodness. What's this? There's someone opening the
+box-door. Pa&mdash;at last! Well, I'm ready for him!</p>
+
+<p class="ind2">[<i>She stiffens in her chair.</i>
+</p>
+
+<p><i>Attendant's Voice</i> (<i>outside</i>). This is Box C, Miss. Can I bring
+you any refreshments? Bottle-ale, stout, lemonade, Miss?</p>
+
+<p><i>A Female Voice.</i> I&mdash;I don't know. There's a gentleman with
+me; he'll be here directly; he only stopped to speak to somebody.
+Ah, he's coming now.</p>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. Toov.</i> "Miss"?! This is Pa's party, then. <i>Oh!!</i></p>
+
+<p class="ind2">[<i>A quietly dressed, and decidedly good-looking girl enters, and
+starts on seeing that the box is already occupied.</i>
+</p>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. Toov.</i> (<i>rising in towering wrath</i>). You were not expecting to
+find <i>me</i> here, Miss, I've no doubt?</p>
+
+<p><i>The Girl</i> (<i>sitting down</i>). No; <span class="sc">Phil</span> didn't say there would
+be anyone else; but any friend of his I'm sure&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. Toov.</i> <span class="sc">Phil</span>? you dare to call him "<span class="sc">Phil</span>!" Do you
+know who I am, you insolent girl, you? I am his Wife!</p>
+
+<p><i>The Girl.</i> His wife? I don't believe it. Are you sure you don't
+mean his mother. My <i>Phil</i> married to <i>you</i>, indeed&mdash;a pretty story!</p>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. Toov.</i> (<i>trembling with rage</i>). Go out of this box instantly, or
+I'll make you!</p>
+
+<p><i>The Girl.</i> I shall do nothing of the kind. Wait till my friend
+comes, and we'll soon&mdash;&mdash;(<i>As the door opens.</i>) <span class="sc">Phil, Phil</span>, here's
+an abusive old female here who pretends she is your wife, and wants
+to order me out. I believe she must either be intoxicated or out of her senses!</p>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. Toov.</i> (<i>pouncing upon the newcomer and boxing his ears
+soundly</i>). Is she? it is you who are out of <i>your</i> senses, Pa! Take
+that&mdash;and <i>that</i>&mdash;and now come home with me, do you hear?</p>
+
+<p><i>The Newcomer</i> (<i>with his hand to his cheek</i>). "Pa," am I? I
+thought I was your <i>husband</i> just now! Well, I must have married
+before I was born, either way. And now, perhaps, you'll explain
+what all this means?</p>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. Toov.</i> (<i>faintly</i>). Oh, my goodness! I've made a dreadful
+mistake; it <i>isn't</i> Pa! Let me go&mdash;let me go!</p>
+
+<p><i>The Newc.</i> (<i>putting his back against the door</i>). Not yet, Ma'am;
+not yet. You don't go like this; after insulting this young lady, to
+whom I've the honour of being engaged, and telling her you're my
+wife, and then smacking my face in her presence. I've my dignity
+to consider, and I want satisfaction out of you. Come, we won't
+have a row here, for the sake of this young lady; just step out into
+lobby here, and I'll give you in charge for assault. Stay where you
+are, <span class="sc">Milly</span>, my dear. Now, Ma'am, will you go, or shall I send for
+a constable? (Mrs. T. <i>totters out, protesting incoherently, and begging
+to be released</i>.) Well, I don't want to spoil my evening's pleasure
+on your account. You give me your name and address, and I'll
+simply summon you for assault; which is more than you deserve.
+If you won't, I'll charge you!</p>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. Toov.</i> (<i>reluctantly</i>). Oh, indeed it was an acc&mdash;&mdash;I will
+<i>not</i> give you my name. Yes, yes, I will; anything to get out of this
+horrible place. (<i>The young man produces a pencil, and pulls down
+his left shirt cuff.</i>) Mrs.&mdash;<span class="sc">Too</span>&mdash;no, I don't mean
+<span class="sc">Too&mdash;Tomkinson
+Jones</span>&mdash;The&mdash;the Laburnums&mdash;U&mdash;upper Tooting. There, <i>now</i> are
+you satisfied?</p>
+
+<p><i>The Young Man</i> (<i>recording it</i>). Thank you, that's all <i>I</i>
+require. You'll hear from me later on. Good evening!</p>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. Toov.</i> (<i>as she crawls down the staircase</i>). I have only just
+saved myself by a&mdash;a <i>fib</i>! And I haven't even found Pa out. But I
+<i>will</i>. I'll go straight home and sit up for him!</p>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">End of Scene</span> XI.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 350px;"><a href="images/197-900.png"><img src="images/197-350.png" width="350" height="495" alt="IMPROVED GNOMENCLATURE." /></a>
+<h3 class="sans">IMPROVED GNOMENCLATURE.</h3>
+
+<h4>(<i>A popular Song adapted to the Glacial Period.</i>)</h4>
+
+<h4>"<span class="sc">On an Icicle made for Two.</span>"</h4></div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<h3>FRAGMENTS FROM A FRANCO-RUSSIAN PHRASE-BOOK.</h3>
+
+<h4>(<i>Picked up at Toulon after the recent Fêtes.</i>)</h4>
+
+<h3>AT THE BANQUET.</h3>
+
+<p>I am glad to be next to a Russian. Believe me, France has
+always been the best friend of Russia.... No, <i>that</i> was not France&mdash;it
+was the Corsican. Altogether a different thing.... <i>Were</i> we
+at the Crimea? It is possible&mdash;through the perfidy of those
+English.... Try some of this old sherry. Your shark-fin soup is
+delicious.... As I was saying, we are a Republic now, and adore
+Liberty.... Siberia must be a charming place, and the climate
+ravishing. You have never been there? A pleasure to come!...
+Take a <i>carafe</i> of <ins title="T.N.: Original reads 'champage'">champagne</ins>&mdash;there is plenty more. We are a democratic
+nation, and the hearts of our populace go out to an autocrat.
+I know well that all autocrats are not nice&mdash;but <i>yours!!</i> <i>Do</i>
+have some more champagne.... These are <i>Cailles Schuvaroff</i>.
+They are Russian&mdash;so they <i>must</i> be good!... Do you know that
+my wife and I kissed the hands of (<i>ten&mdash;fifteen&mdash;fifty&mdash;two hundred</i>)
+Russian sailors through the portholes of your flagship this afternoon?...
+Not at all&mdash;we quite enjoyed it.... There is a proposal
+to present your Admiral with a model of the Tour Eiffel in brilliants.
+I remember it was exhibited in Paris at a franc for admission&mdash;but
+few people went. I wish he may get it. I subscribed ten
+(<i>Napoleons&mdash;francs&mdash;centimes</i>) towards the fund for presenting
+commemorative brooches to the wives, daughters, and sweethearts
+of your seamen. I hope they will all arrive quite safely.... Have
+you received a silver cup with a suitable inscription? Only a
+yellow champagne-glass with a motto! That is mean, miserable,
+shabby! I will speak to a waiter about it.... Why do you not
+drink? Fill your glass. I am filling mine.... Have you heard
+that our warm-hearted nation has forwarded to the Russian Fleet
+one hundred cases of the best blacking? The Triple Alliance is
+trembling in its shoes.... You drink nothing! All the same, it
+seems to me your Tsar might have sent <i>more</i> ships while he
+was about it. Yes, I repeat; more&mdash;and bigger ones. It would
+have been more polished. But you Russians are <i>not</i> polished;
+you are cold, brutal, phlegmatic. You remind me of an Englishman
+I once saw on the stage of the Variétés. But he had red
+whiskers, and said, "Aoh, yes!" You drink too much. The
+Russians are all intemperate&mdash;it is the climate. So long as you
+help us to our revenge, we do not care <i>what</i> you are. I speak
+quite frankly. This is a great day for France. As a Frenchman,
+I shall never see caviar again without a thrill of heartfelt emotion.
+But your shark-fin soup was disgusting&mdash;beastly. It is that which
+is making me so ill.... <i>Au revoir</i>, dear friend. I am going under
+the table for a little while&mdash;to think.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p class="ind2">Mrs. R. wants to know what was the classic story about Ajax and
+Telephone? "So," says she, "as <i>that</i> was hundreds of years ago,
+it isn't such a <i>very</i> new invention."</p>
+<!--  -->
+<hr class="medium" />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page198" id="page198"></a>[pg 198]</span>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"><a href="images/198-1500.png"><img src="images/198-600.png" width="600" height="368" alt="UNCALLED-FOR REVELATIONS." /></a>
+<h3 class="sans">UNCALLED-FOR REVELATIONS.</h3>
+
+<p><i>Tommy</i> (<i>to Caller</i>). "<span class="sc">Oh, we've been having such Fun! Papa has
+been putting on Mamma's Hair and frightening Baby!</span>"</p></div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<h2>LITTLE MASTER MINORITY.</h2>
+
+<h4><i>A Dialogue in Dialect, some way after Bret Harte's "Jim."</i></h4>
+
+<blockquote><p>
+[Referring, in the course of conversation, to the deadlock in the Senate,
+Mr. <span class="sc">Chamberlain</span> said:&mdash;"My opinion is that the Americans are the most
+patient people on the globe. Such an outcome from an organised system of
+obstruction would be impossible in England, which I venture to say, with
+my foot on New York soil, is far more democratic than America. Democracy,
+as I take it, means the government of the people by the people."&mdash;<i>The
+"Times'" New York Correspondent, Oct. 13.</i>]
+</p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="center">"C&oelig;lum, non (?) animum, mutant, qui trans mare currunt."</p>
+
+<h3><i>Jonathan to Joseph, loquitur:</i>&mdash;</h3>
+
+<div class="poem">  <div class="stanza">
+<p>Say thar! P'r'aps</p>
+<p>You're of them chaps</p>
+<p><i>Approve</i> this child,</p>
+<p>Who makes <i>me</i> wild!&mdash;</p>
+<p><i>No?</i>&mdash;no offence:</p>
+<p>Thar ain't much sense</p>
+<p class="i2">In gittin' riled!</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p><span class="sc">Joe</span>, old chum,</p>
+<p class="i2">Welcome ye are!</p>
+<p>Say! Ye've jest come</p>
+<p class="i2">Up from down thar.</p>
+<p>Lookin' round, <span class="sc">Joe</span>?</p>
+<p class="i2">That's right, Sir! <i>You</i></p>
+<p class="i2">Ain't of that crew</p>
+<p class="i4">Makes freedom rar'.</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p><i>Tory?</i> Not much,</p>
+<p class="i2">That ain't <i>my</i> kind:</p>
+<p>I ain't no such,&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">Democrat&mdash;blind!</p>
+<p>Rayther like <i>you</i>!</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>Well, this yer boy</p>
+<p>(With his derned toy),</p>
+<p>Is a fair limb.&mdash;</p>
+<p>Not much&mdash;in size!</p>
+<p>Stirs <i>your</i> surprise?&mdash;</p>
+<p>Wal, that <i>is</i> strange:</p>
+<p class="i2"><i>Your</i> nipper, now,</p>
+<p class="i2">Riz up some row,</p>
+<p>Down under thar,</p>
+<p>Ony this year!</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>Since you came here.</p>
+<p class="i2">You've felt a change!</p>
+<p>Wal, he licks <i>us</i>!</p>
+<p class="i6">Eh?</p>
+<p><i>Spank him</i>, you say!</p>
+<p class="i6"><i>Spank?</i>&mdash;</p>
+<p><i>This</i> little cuss?</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>You make me star,&mdash;</p>
+<p>Down under, thar,</p>
+<p>Minorities stop</p>
+<p>Truck&mdash;in your shop,</p>
+<p>And <i>you</i> don't rar'!</p>
+<p class="i2">Here, wide awake</p>
+<p class="i2">To our mistake.</p>
+<p><i>Our</i> boy you bar!</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p class="i6"><i>Spank!</i>&mdash;</p>
+<p>This&mdash;little&mdash;cuss?</p>
+<p>Wal, he does fuss,</p>
+<p>Raises a muss.</p>
+<p class="i2">His "Silver" whim,</p>
+<p>His spoutin' prank&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">(Leather-lung'd limb!)</p>
+<p>Does crab the swim.</p>
+<p class="i2"><i>Should</i> like to yank</p>
+<p class="i4">Him crost my knees,</p>
+<p class="i2">And&mdash;but thar! spank</p>
+<p class="i6"><i>Him?</i></p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p><i>Patient</i>, Sir&mdash;I?</p>
+<p class="i2">No democrat?</p>
+<p>Here, Sir, stand by!</p>
+<p class="i2">I can't stand <i>that</i>!</p>
+<p><i>You</i> wouldn't stand</p>
+<p><i>Him</i>&mdash;in your land?</p>
+<p class="i6">Eh?</p>
+<p>What's that you say?</p>
+<p>Why, dern it!&mdash;sho!&mdash;</p>
+<p>Draw it mild, <span class="sc">Joe</span>!</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p class="i6">Bold?</p>
+<p>Obstruction? Yes!</p>
+<p>Still, as I guess&mdash;</p>
+<p>Though I'll confess</p>
+<p class="i2"><i>You</i>'re an authority&mdash;</p>
+<p>'Tain't no new thing</p>
+<p>(<i>You</i>'ve had your fling!),</p>
+<p class="i2">But ornery,</p>
+<p class="i4">Derned old,</p>
+<p class="i2">Loud-lunged&mdash;Minority!</p>
+<p class="i4">Little&mdash;Master&mdash;Minority!</p>
+  </div>  </div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<h2>OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.</h2>
+
+<p><i>Barabbas</i> is a romance by <span class="sc">Marie Corelli</span>, founded upon the
+narrative given by the Four Evangelists. It is in three volumes, and
+<i>Barabbas</i> is the principal character. Oratorios have been composed
+musically illustrating the sacred story, mystery plays there
+have been showing it forth in action, but never yet have we been
+taken, as it were, behind the scenes, introduced to <span class="sc">Judas Iscariot's</span>
+sister, and been informed as to the motives of human action underlying
+"the World's Tragedy." Whether "the stock of <i>Barabbas</i>"
+hath been sold out or not, the Baron cannot imagine that this novel
+form of treating Holy Writ will ever be popular with any section
+of our ordinary reading public. <span class="sc">Marie Corelli</span> is a writer as
+picturesque as prolific, but she has wasted her time and talents on
+this romance. There used to be a perversion of the text, which
+took this form, "Now <span class="sc">Barabbas</span> was&mdash;a publisher" (was it <span class="sc">Sydney
+Smith's</span> jest?); but if that applies nowadays, the publisher who
+depended solely upon this particular work for his success would,
+probably, far nearer resemble <span class="sc">Zaccheus</span> than <span class="sc">Barabbas</span>, inasmuch
+as he might find himself "up a tree."</p>
+
+<p><i>Catriona</i> is written by R. L. <span class="sc">Stevenson</span>, and published in one
+volume by <span class="sc">Cassell &amp; Co</span>. "Aweel, aweel, mon!" quoth the Baron,
+after several praiseworthy attempts at mastering the Scotch dialect
+in which the story is told; "aweel, aweel! I am swier to leave ye,
+<i>Catriona</i>! But it maun be as it will; I'm nane sae muckle learned
+in your Scotch tongue; sae I'll e'en put doun the book, or I'll be
+wearyful, deil hae 't!" No: Scotch the Baron cannot manage&mdash;except
+taken as whiskey. But he will tell those who love the language
+that <span class="sc">McStevenson's</span> <i>Catriona</i> they will enjoy to their heart's
+content.
+All the same it remains a mystery to the Baron de B. W.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p class="ind1"><span class="sc">In High Feather.</span>&mdash;It would not be fair even, for Mr. <span class="sc">Hudson</span>,
+to define all ladies wearing feathers as "a Feather-headed Lot."</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page199" id="page199"></a>[pg 199]</span>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 350px;"><a href="images/199-1000.png"><img src="images/199-350.png" width="350" height="447" alt="LITTLE MASTER MINORITY." /></a>
+<h2>LITTLE MASTER MINORITY.</h2>
+
+<p><span class="sc">Brother Jonathan.</span> "WA'AL, MR. JOSEPH; I GUESS ALL YOUR SYMPATHIES ARE
+WITH THIS LITTLE CUSS?"</p>
+
+<p><span class="sc">Mr. Chamberlain.</span> "NOT AT ALL, NOT AT ALL,&mdash;ON <i>YOUR</i> SIDE OF THE
+ATLANTIC!"</p></div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page200" id="page200"></a>[pg 200]</span>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page201" id="page201"></a>[pg 201]</span>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"><h3>THE BOOM IN BEETLES&mdash;THE LATEST FROM AFRICA.</h3>
+<a href="images/201-1200.png"><img src="images/201-500.png" width="500" height="514" alt="THE BOOM IN BEETLES&mdash;THE LATEST FROM AFRICA." /></a>
+
+<p>["The new arrival at the Zoo is a specimen of the Goliath Beetle from West
+Africa&mdash;a giant even among its own kind."&mdash;<i>Daily Graphic.</i>]</p></div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<h3>TO A LOST FRIEND.</h3>
+
+<h4>(<i>By a Briefless Barrister.</i>)</h4>
+
+<div class="poem">  <div class="stanza">
+<p>No more! alas! completely gone,</p>
+<p class="i2">No shadow of a trace is left,</p>
+<p>And I have still to linger on,</p>
+<p class="i2">Of your companionship bereft,</p>
+<p>And fight the battle to the end,</p>
+<p>As best I may with one less friend.</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>It seems a cruel stroke of Fate.</p>
+<p class="i2">How eagerly I watched you grow!</p>
+<p>How much I loved you; how elate</p>
+<p class="i2">When other people came to know</p>
+<p>On what I always had insisted&mdash;</p>
+<p>That you in point of fact existed.</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>I played with you, who every day</p>
+<p class="i2">Grew more responsive to my touch.</p>
+<p>I stroked you in the gentlest way,</p>
+<p class="i2">With sweet caresses. Ah! how much</p>
+<p>We seemed, as though a child and mother,</p>
+<p>To be bound up in one another.</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>You <i>did</i> appear to like me then,</p>
+<p class="i2">No mere lip-service seemingly</p>
+<p>Was that you rendered to me when</p>
+<p class="i2">You never contradicted me,</p>
+<p>But hung upon my words, though true</p>
+<p>It also was they hung on you.</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>And then one day you disappeared,</p>
+<p class="i2">Cut off in life's most sunny prime.</p>
+<p>I missed you sadly as I feared</p>
+<p class="i2">And thought I should do at the time.</p>
+<p>Though now your image comes and plain</p>
+<p>Grows on me sometimes once again.</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>Oh! my moustache! I did the deed,</p>
+<p class="i2">I own it frankly, I alone.</p>
+<p>I felt it (for it made me bleed),</p>
+<p class="i2">Yet still you always must have known,</p>
+<p>Though you were of proportions regal,</p>
+<p>You hardly helped me to look legal.</p>
+  </div>  </div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">A Triumph in Cookery.</span>&mdash;When the Cook
+makes a hash of the marrow-bones.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p class="ind1">"<span class="sc">He is a Mann, take him for all in all,
+We never want to look upon his like
+again</span>." (<i>Shakspeare adapted</i>).&mdash;It is said
+he is going to join the Ministry&mdash;not the
+Cabinet&mdash;but that of the Established Church.
+But how will so independent a spirit ever
+submit to "take orders" from an Archbishop?
+This is to reduce himself from a
+<span class="sc">Mann</span> to a Mannikin. Not likely.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p class="ind2"><span class="sc">Up to Date Translation.</span>&mdash;"<i>Qu'est-ce
+qu'il y a sur le tapis?</i>" asked the Frenchman.
+"You mean 'what's on the tape?'" returned the Englishman.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page202" id="page202"></a>[pg 202]</span>
+
+<h3>THE IDEAL DRAMA.</h3>
+
+<div class="poem">  <div class="stanza">
+<p>Oh think what a change would soon be wrought</p>
+<p class="i2">In sins society now condones,</p>
+<p>Were virtue and honesty properly taught</p>
+<p class="i2">By Comedy's smiles and Tragedy's groans!</p>
+<p>The peer, the scholar, the fool, the fop,</p>
+<p class="i2">Could learn deportment, high-class, tip-top,</p>
+<p>From a <i>Dancing Girl</i> in a <i>Bauble Shop</i>&mdash;</p>
+<p class="i2">At least so thinks Mr. <span class="sc">H. A. Jones</span>.</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>We shall call it "the work," and not "the play,"</p>
+<p class="i2">When due solemnity prompts the tones</p>
+<p>Of serious actors, more grave than gay;</p>
+<p class="i2">They may be bores, but they won't be drones.</p>
+<p>So learn, should you wish to have a spree,</p>
+<p class="i2">What your Criterion ought to be,</p>
+<p>Or the <i>Tempter</i> will put you up a Tree.</p>
+<p class="i2">Hear eloquent Mr. <span class="sc">H. A. Jones</span>!</p>
+  </div><div class="stanza">
+<p>Amusement? What! Do you dare to think</p>
+<p class="i2">That those respectable classic crones,</p>
+<p>Melpomene, Thalia, they should sink</p>
+<p class="i2">To make you laugh, like a nigger Bones?</p>
+<p>If you should expect to be amused,</p>
+<p>Your money would simply be refused,</p>
+<p>And you would be turned away, abused</p>
+<p class="i2">By furious Mr. <span class="sc">H. A. Jones</span>.</p>
+  </div>  </div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 350px;"><a href="images/202-800.png"><img src="images/202-350.png" width="350" height="477" alt="THE ETERNAL FITNESS OF THINGS." /></a>
+<h3 class="sans">THE ETERNAL FITNESS OF THINGS.</h3>
+
+<p>"<span class="sc">And what is your Name?</span>"</p>
+
+<p>"<span class="sc">Marian Watson. But my last Mistress used to call me Mary,
+because Marian isn't a proper name for a Servant, she said.</span>"</p></div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<h2>REPARTEES FOR THE RAILWAY.</h2>
+
+<ul class="none">
+<li>"Smoking not allowed." Of
+course, but I am going to enjoy my cigar in silence.</li>
+
+<li>"Want the window closed."
+Very sorry, but I can't find a cathedral.</li>
+
+<li>"Find my journal a nuisance."
+Dear me! was under the impression it was a newspaper.</li>
+
+<li>"Allow you to pass." Afraid
+only the Secretary can manage
+that for you; he alone has power to issue free tickets.</li>
+
+<li>"Do I mind the draught?"
+Not when I am attending to the chessman.</li>
+
+<li>"Do I know the station?"
+Of the people on the platform?
+Probably lower middle class.</li>
+
+<li>"Is this right for Windsor?"
+Yes, if it's not left for somewhere else.</li>
+
+<li>"Are we allowed five minutes
+for lunch?" Think not; but
+you can have sandwiches at the counter.</li>
+
+<li>"Isn't this first-class?"
+Quite excellent&mdash;first-rate&mdash;couldn't be better!</li>
+
+<li>"I want to go second." Then
+you had better follow me.</li>
+
+<li>"I am third." Indeed! And
+who were first and second?</li>
+
+<li>"I think this must be
+London." Very likely; if it is,
+it mustn't be anywhere else.</li>
+</ul>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p class="ind1"><span class="sc">A Cry to Whymper.</span>&mdash;Last Wednesday Mr. <span class="sc">Edward
+Whymper</span> lectured at the
+Birkbeck. His subject was
+"<i>Twenty thousand feet above
+the Sea.</i>" "That's ten thousand pairs of boots!" writes
+our shoemaker. "Wish I'd
+had the order! Well, well, soled again!"</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<h2>A WALK IN DEVON.</h2>
+
+<h3>PART I.&mdash;THE START.</h3>
+
+<h4><i>Notes from the Travel Diary of Toby, M.P.</i></h4>
+
+<div class="poem">  <div class="stanza">
+<p><i>The Cottage, Burrow-in-the-Corner, Devon.</i></p>
+  </div>  </div>
+
+<p>Went out for a walk just now; nothing remarkable in that; the
+wonder came in when I got back. Present postal address given
+at head of this note. The Cottage is there all right, but where
+the township, hamlet, village, or whatever Burrow-in-the-Corner
+may be, is situated, haven't the least idea, and I've tramped
+pretty well round the country. The Cottage stands at four cross
+roads, on the top of a hill. Specks in the distance, in the valley
+and on the hillsides, understood to be farm-houses. Three miles
+off is Tipperton; it is approached from this point by a steep hill:
+most convenient way of getting to bottom is to lie down on top
+and roll; some people said to have become adepts in practise; can
+even enjoy quiet sleep on the way, and pull up at the very shop
+in High Street where they have business. So it is said; but I
+rarely see any people about Burrow-in-the-Corner; so how can
+they approach Tipperton in this or other way? The only persons
+that pass The Cottage palings are men who stop to ask their way.
+The population is sparse, and seems to fill up its time by losing
+itself. This should have been a warning to me, but it wasn't.</p>
+
+<p>The Cottage been standing here for at least two hundred years.
+Began life as a smithy; only recently retired from business.
+The initials of one of its tenants are "R. B." He has carved the
+letters on the front door, with the date, 1813, following it. Fancy
+he must have been pretty old then, for, two years later, he cuts
+his initials again with date 1815; the writing quite shakey;
+possibly he had heard of Waterloo, and his hand was tremulous
+with patriotic joy. On second thought, that improbable. News of
+Waterloo not likely to have reached Burrow-in-the-Corner within
+limit of twelve months.</p>
+
+<p>The smithy still stands as "R. B." left it when his bellows
+blew their last gasp. The Cottage itself transformed. The thatched
+roof remains; also the whitewashed walls, the porch, the little windows
+embayed in thick walls, which quite naturally form window-seats,
+where, if you take care not to bang your head, you may sit
+at ease, and look out over the swelling upland&mdash;rich red where it
+has just been ploughed; for the most part green pastures trending
+down to the Exe, a silver stream, rippling on to the sea, reckless
+of all it will pass through before it joins it. We have a parlour,
+but prefer to sit in the kitchen, a dainty room with gleaming dark-red
+sideboard; a kitchener, polished to distraction, so that looking-glasses
+are superfluities; a piano in recess by fireplace; a chimney-piece,
+on which gleam copper pans, brass candlesticks, and pewter
+plates, with their initials and ancient birth-dates polished almost
+out of sight; white-curtained windows, bright with begonias and
+cyclamen; a low ceiling, supported by a pragmatical beam, strictly
+conforming to the regulation that forbids a straight line in the room.</p>
+
+<p>Have discovered that kitchen is best place in house to dine in;
+only drawback is that everything served so unexpectedly hot,
+new-comers scald themselves. Soon grow used to it, and to get
+grilled mushrooms served really hot is compensation for inconvenience.
+As for pancakes (made with freshly-laid eggs), begin
+to think I never tasted the real delicacy before. Your true pancake,
+as <span class="sc">Brillat-Savarin</span> omitted to say in his well-known treatise,
+should be eaten to the music of the one in the pan preparing to
+follow. When we go back to town, mean to ask servants to sit in
+dining-room whilst we dine in kitchen.</p>
+
+<p>When I speak of going back to town, of course I imply the
+certainty of being able to find our way out of Burrow-in-the-Corner
+to nearest railway station.</p>
+
+<p>Seems a good deal to have four cross roads all to yourself at your
+front door. The Cottage scarcely of sufficient importance to justify
+such lavish accommodation. But in these parts the amount of arable
+land wasted in roads and lanes is almost criminal. It was a Saturday
+evening when I went out to find the post-office. Nothing
+seemed plainer than instructions.</p>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page203" id="page203"></a>[pg 203]</span>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"><a href="images/203-1500.png"><img src="images/203-600.png" width="600" height="435" alt="LIKA JOKO'S JOTTINGS.&mdash;No. 2. PHEASANT SHOOTING." /></a>
+<h3 class="sans">LIKA JOKO'S JOTTINGS.&mdash;No. 2. PHEASANT SHOOTING.</h3></div>
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="page204" id="page204"></a>[pg 204]</span>
+
+<p>"Go straight down the road facing you, and you'll come to a
+church. Close by it is a house; letter-box inserted in side of house;
+box painted red, you know."</p>
+
+<p>Of course I knew; set off with a light heart and handful of
+letters. A little way down high road, on right-hand side, lane
+suddenly opened and delved downwards, its sinuous course
+embowered in trees; where they failed, barricaded with hedges.
+High road seemed originally bent upon taking this direction;
+changed its mind; turned abruptly to left. Suppose a few traps
+driven down hill must occasionally have taken this dip; feeble
+attempt to avoid too frequent recurrence of accident made by setting
+posts on line of high road, and painting tops white. If, after this,
+anyone on pitch-dark night mistakes road, only themselves to blame.
+Other roads and lanes perplexingly branching out to right and left
+at short intervals; kept on steadily till church came in view; found
+the house; not difficult, as there was only one; also discovered
+letter-box painted red. Twenty minutes to five was hour for
+clearing box; barely that; posted letters. Turning away when
+observed remark on letter-box, "Next collection Monday."</p>
+
+<p>Pretty go, this; postman evidently been before his time; no sign
+of him on wide expanse. Looking round perceived Elderly Gentleman
+sitting in garden behind house; doubtless this was the householder;
+apparently had anticipated Sunday by putting on best
+clothes; black frock coat, getting brown about the seams; high
+collar, nearly covering black stock; black waistcoat, which seemed
+to belong to other suit than the coat; (was buttoned close up over
+stock, whilst coat, with generous lapels folded back, buttoned low
+down); brown trousers, a little short in leg; stout green umbrella
+under left arm. Elderly Gentleman was sitting on rustic bench,
+with cup of cider at hand, and expression of serene content on his
+wrinkled face. A quaintly-coloured cup, with two handles close
+together, presumably with view to taking a good pull at contents.
+"Bin my grandfather's," he said, looking at it with affection, and
+incidentally half emptying it. There was a motto roughly scrawled
+by the potter; Elderly Gentleman read it to me:</p>
+
+<div class="poem">  <div class="stanza">
+<p class="i10">    Erth I am et es most trew,</p>
+<p class="i10">    Disdain me not for so be yew.</p>
+  </div>  </div>
+
+<p>Thus it was spelled, but no one born out of Devon could convey
+the tremendous sound of the <i>u</i> in the rhyming words. This peculiar
+to the soil; even barndoor fowls have it; notice that gamecock at The
+Cottage when it wakes me early in the morning, always shrilly pipes
+"cock-a-doodle-<i>dew</i>!" Asked Elderly Gentleman if he lived here?
+Born in the house, he said. Was he going for a walk? No, only
+sitting about. Then why the umbrella? Ah! he always took it out
+of drawer with his Sunday clothes, and put it under his arm, if he
+was only sitting in the garden.</p>
+
+<p>But that's another story, told me after we had caught the postman.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<h2>"THE ART OF 'SAVOY FARE.'"</h2>
+
+<p>Mr. <span class="sc">D'Oyly Carte</span> is to be heartily congratulated on his brilliant
+mounting of Messrs. <span class="sc">Gillivan</span> and <span class="sc">Sulbert's</span> most recent
+production
+entitled <i>Utopia (Limited)</i>. "Limited" it is in more senses than one.
+As there was, according to the immortal <i>Cyrus Bantam, M.C.</i>,
+when he was giving his information to <i>Mr. Pickwick</i>, "nobody old
+or ugly in Ba-ath," so there is on "the spindle side" no one old or
+ugly on the stage of the Savoy Theatre. And this, too, with a
+difference, applies to Sir <span class="sc">Arthur's</span> music, in which if there be
+nothing particularly new&mdash;and the old familiar friends receive the
+heartiest welcome&mdash;there is at all events nothing dull, even though
+it may "hardly ever" rise above mere commonplace. Occasionally
+there is a snatch of sweet melody that brings to mind the composer's
+happiest inspirations, whether in oratorio or burlesque.</p>
+
+<p>As to dramatic plot&mdash;well, strictly speaking, there is none;
+and it would be difficult to name a single telling "situation," in
+<i>Utopia (Limited)</i>. The Monarch of Utopia wishes to introduce
+English customs into his kingdom; there is a court party
+opposed to this innovation: that's the essence of it. In the First Act
+the one hit, is the introduction of <i>Captain Corcoran</i> from <i>The
+Pinafore</i>
+of years ago, and the repetition of the once popular catch-phrase
+about "What never?" <ins title="T.N.: Original reads 'aRd'">and</ins> "Hardly ever," which, taken as
+applying to our most recent tragical ironclad disaster, is thoroughly
+appreciated. Beyond this, as far as dialogue and music go, in the
+First Act there is very little anyone would care to "carry away
+with him" after a first visit. And if that little were carried away
+the residuum would offer scant attraction.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"><a href="images/204-1000.png"><img src="images/204-600.png" width="600" height="462" alt="The Union of Arts. 'Again we come to thee,'" /></a>
+<h4><span class="sc">The Union of Arts</span>. "Again we come to thee,
+Savoy."&mdash;<i>Old Duet.</i></h4></div>
+
+<p>As for the Second Act, with its Royal Drawing-room scene, its
+splendid costumes, and its mimicry of Court etiquette, have we not
+witnessed a similar spectacle on a larger scale in a Drury Lane
+Pantomime, not so very many years ago? And was not that arranged
+by the same artistic stage-manager, who is now, by a wise dispensation
+of theatrical providence, in command at the Savoy, yclept
+Mr. <span class="sc">Charles Harris</span>? I fancy the Drury Lane Pantomime had the
+best of it in point of broad fun, as, if I remember right, <span class="sc">Herbert
+Campbell</span> was the Queen, and <span class="sc">Harry Nicholls</span> the King. Before
+this scene is the principal hit of the Second Act, when the King,
+Mr. <span class="sc">Barrington</span>,&mdash;to whom author and composer are under considerable
+obligations for the success of the piece, and without
+whose acting, dancing, and singing the entertainment would fare
+indifferently well,&mdash;with his counsellors, an admiral, a Lord Chamberlain,
+and so forth, place their chairs in a row, and detaching
+from the back of each seat a musical instrument, turn themselves
+into a St. James's ("Hall" not "Court") Christy Minstrel Company,
+Unlimited, of which Mr. <span class="sc">Barrington</span>, as the <i>Mr. Johnson</i>, is the
+life and soul. Is this the remarkably original creation of the united
+intellects of Messrs. <span class="sc">Gilbert</span> and <span class="sc">Sullivan</span>? Have they ever
+heard of, or did either of them ever see a burlesque entitled <i>Black
+Eye'd Susan</i> at the Royalty, which ran a long way over six hundred
+nights, and in later days was revived at the Opera Comique and
+elsewhere? I will quote from the <i>Times</i>' notice of that burlesque:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>
+"The court-martial arranged after the fashion of the Christy's orchestra,
+every admiral being dressed in a colour corresponding to his title, an actual
+'nigger' figuring as Admiral of the Black, is another odd device which
+keeps the audience in a roar."
+</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>And it is this "odd device," with a Lord Chancellor, if I remember
+right, or some legal luminary in black, for one of the "corner
+men," which is, after all is said, sung, and done, just the one thing
+(of the two in the show) that brings down the house, and is
+applauded to the echo as the outcome of the combined whimsical
+originality of Messrs. <span class="sc">Gilbert</span> and <span class="sc">Sullivan</span>! Imitation being
+the
+sincerest flattery, the author of <i>Black Eye'd Susan</i> must be indeed
+gratified by this tribute to his original success paid by the
+librettist and the composer of <i>Utopia</i>, and having no further use
+for this particular bit of humour, he will, no doubt, be willing to
+make a present of it, free of charge, for nightly use, to the distinguished
+Savoyards as a practical congratulation to the pair of them
+on their return to the scene of some of their former triumphs.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. <span class="sc">Barrington</span> is the life and soul of the show; withdraw him,
+and then there would be precious little left to draw, excepting, of
+course, the <i>mise en scène</i>, due to Messrs. <span class="sc">Harris</span> and
+<span class="sc">Carte</span>, if I may
+put the <span class="sc">Harris</span> before the <span class="sc">Carte</span>,&mdash;and to the Scenic Artist,
+<span class="sc">Craven</span>. Nor must I forget to mention the Electric Lightists,
+Messrs. <span class="sc">Lyons</span> and <span class="sc">Kerr</span>, which last is a queer combination of
+names, from the king of the forest to the lowest of snappy dogs. Miss
+<span class="sc">Rosina Brandram</span> is, of course, excellent in what she has to do, and
+Miss <span class="sc">Nancy McIntosh</span> is equal to the occasion of her appearance.
+<span class="sc">Percy Anderson's</span> costumes are gorgeous and artistic; and to the
+"Parisian Diamond Company" are due the gems of the piece. The
+dances are by the ever fertile and agile <span class="sc">D'Auban</span>, and everybody
+who has contributed to the success of the show obtains honourable
+mention in the neat programme-card.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p class="ind1">"Inquirer" writes: "I see an advertisement of a series called
+'<i>The Aldine Poets</i>.' Exceptional bards I suppose, as I was always
+given to understand that poets rarely eat anything. Will this series
+be followed by '<i>The Allunch Poets</i>,' <i>The Allbreakfast Poets</i>,' and
+'<i>The Allsup Poets'</i>? The last-mentioned, of course, will sing in
+praise of <span class="sc">Allsup's</span> Ale."</p>
+
+<hr class="full" />
+
+<table summary="tn" align="center" style="margin-top: 3em;">
+<tr>
+    <td class="note">
+
+<h4>Transcriber's Note:</h4>
+
+<p>Sundry damaged or missing punctuation has been repaired.</p>
+
+<p>The corrections listed below are also indicated in the text by a dashed line at the appropriate place:</p>
+<p>Move the mouse over the word, and the original text <ins title="T.N.: Original reads 'apprears'">appears</ins>.</p>
+
+<p>Page 196: 'wav' corrected to 'way'</p>
+
+<p>"There's no entrance to the music-hall this way."</p>
+
+<p>Page 197: 'champage' corrected to 'champagne'</p>
+
+<p>"Take a <i>carafe</i> of champagne&mdash;there is plenty more."</p>
+
+<p>Page 204: 'aRd' corrected to 'and'</p>
+
+<p>"What never?" and "Hardly ever," which, taken as applying to our most
+recent tragical ironclad disaster, is thoroughly appreciated.</p>
+<hr class="full" />
+
+ </td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari,
+October 28th 1893, by Various
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+</pre>
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+</body>
+</html>
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@@ -0,0 +1,1637 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, October
+28th 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, October 28th 1893
+
+Author: Various
+
+Release Date: April 3, 2012 [EBook #39362]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Malcolm Farmer, Lesley Halamek and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Punch, or the London Charivari
+
+Volume 105, October 28th 1893
+
+_edited by Sir Francis Burnand_
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+MY LANDLORD.
+
+(_By a Tenant._)
+
+  Who asked a rent absurdly high;
+  Who never scrupled at a lie?
+  The house well built! The soil so dry!
+      My Landlord.
+
+  Whose saving schemes cause constant fears
+  The house will fall about my ears?
+  I say it totters, and he sneers.
+      My Landlord.
+
+  The cellar's flooded when it rains;
+  The ceilings show damp, mouldy stains.
+  Who swindled me about the drains?
+      My Landlord.
+
+  Who called the house extremely nice?
+  It's simply overrun with mice,
+  The cook has had hysterics twice.
+      My Landlord.
+
+  Who praised the garden in a way
+  To seem like Eden? I should say
+  The soil is brickbats mixed with clay.
+      My Landlord.
+
+  Who said each kind of plant succeeds?
+  Yet when I sow the choicest seeds
+  They all develop into weeds.
+      My Landlord.
+
+  What's this? A note from him--a few
+  Short lines to say the rent is due.
+  Who tells me facts not new, if true?
+      My Landlord.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A SUGGESTION.--A decoration for JABEZ BALFOUR,--"The Order of the
+Golden Fleece."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: RECKLESS.
+
+_Moderate Swell._ "GOING TO TAKE A CAB?"
+
+_Immoderate Swell._ "ER--NO."
+
+_M. S._ "NO UMBRELLA, I SEE."
+
+_Imm. S._ "ER--NO, DEAR BOY. SEE--IF YOU--ER--CARRY 'BRELLA--LOOKS AS
+IF YOU'D ONLY ONE SUIT A CLOTHES!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+MY TENANT.
+
+(_By a Landlord._)
+
+  Who haggled long about the price;
+  Who says my house is far from nice;
+  Who seeks solicitor's advice?
+      My Tenant.
+
+  Who wants incessantly repairs
+  To floors and ceilings, steps and stairs;
+  Who doats on hygienic scares?
+      My Tenant.
+
+  Who lives in fear of sewer gas,
+  So that the plumbers soon amass
+  Vast sums, once mine? That utter ass,
+      My Tenant.
+
+  Eternally some fresh complaint;
+  Distemper, whitewash, paper, paint!
+  He is enough to vex a saint--
+      My Tenant.
+
+  Who lets the garden go to pot?
+  What used to be a pleasant spot
+  Is worse than an allotment plot.
+      My Tenant.
+
+  Deferring payments suits his bent;
+  When various demands I've sent;
+  Unwillingly he pays the rent,
+      My Tenant.
+
+  A note from him? Another growl!
+  Some chimney smokes, he wants a cowl.
+  Thus he complains, that moping owl,
+      My Tenant.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Mrs. R. says she always understood you must "catch your hare before
+you cook it;" so she cannot for the life of her make out what a friend
+of hers meant by telling her that "when their kitchen-maid cooked the
+hare _she caught it afterwards_!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A DIARY A LA RUSSE.
+
+_Monday._--Rather tired of this constant hand-shaking, and even the
+lady-kissing is somewhat wearisome. Especially when the fair dames do
+not draw the line at sixty. However, no doubt well meant. Found usual
+collection of miscellaneous presents. Don't quite know what I shall
+do with ton of tallow. Somehow our hosts fancy we require it. Latest
+addition from the advertising merchants--a Patent Tombstone (with
+space for _affiches_ at back) and Somebody's Remedy for Neuralgia.
+Wish our hosts would not send us such a lot of things! Have been
+staying at my hotel all day long on the chance of escaping attention,
+and thus be able to find my way to the Moulin Rouge. Just got past the
+porter, when I was caught by one of the _attaches_ and carried off to
+a State Dinner. Spent the rest of the evening in shouting "Long Live
+France!" and listening to the Russian National Hymn.
+
+_Tuesday._--Hope I shall have better luck to-day. My hand is twice
+its normal size, thanks to the shaking. More presents. Candles by
+the hundredweight, and bear's-grease by the ton. Some one has sent a
+Boot-blacking Machine, and wants a testimonial. On the watch all day.
+Trust to get to the Folies Bergeres some time or another. Just crawled
+out when seized by a friendly _depute_, and hurried off to a function
+at the Hotel de Ville!
+
+_Wednesday._--Absolutely done up. Deafened with the "_Marseillaise_,"
+and sick to death of "_The Emperor's Hymn_." Usual collection of
+presents. Five thousand fire-alarms! One of them alone enough to wake
+up a slumbering town of half a million inhabitants! Ladies of all ages
+(especially of mature age) anxious to kiss me. Could not walk across
+the road this morning for them! Had to stop in the hotel all day long.
+Tried to escape in the evening on the chance of finding my way to a
+"concert-music-hall," when seized by an officer of the French Marine,
+and carried away to a Reception!
+
+_Thursday._--I have now been in Paris four days and seen nothing,
+absolutely nothing! Of course most gratifying from a patriotic point
+of view, but if this is Paris why give me St. Petersburg, or even
+Siberia! Can't move a step without having my hand shaken off. Not a
+moment's privacy; and as for the presents, I am absolutely deluged
+with them! and such idiotic gifts! All the advertisers in the
+country seem to have found us out. What use on earth can I make of an
+elephant's feeding-spoon or a lady's comb for curling the hair? I made
+a last effort to get to the Moulin; but, of course, again frustrated.
+I was seized by an "A.-D.-C." and taken to a State Lecture!
+
+_Friday._--Giving way to despair! What a hollow thing is popular
+applause! I am absolutely tired to death of it. I cannot repeat (for
+very weariness), the various ovations I have received. I have been
+accepted with cheers at all hours of the day and night! Oh, how glad
+I would be to get back! At the last moment I saw my way to a stealthy
+visit to the Folies, when I was secured and booked for two dinners and
+a "_punch_." Betrayed! Betrayed!
+
+_Saturday._--Still hunted. Not allowed to go anywhere except when
+my tormentors drag me to some official function. Have sold all my
+presents for ten francs. Have received marching orders for Toulon.
+Just as I was about to escape and proceed to the Moulin Rouge,
+captured by "my friends the enemy," or should it be "my enemies the
+friends"? Had to submit to the usual enthusiasm on my road to the
+railway station. Fortune of war I suppose, or rather of peace. Of the
+two, the latter I should think was the more deadly. Last strain of the
+"_Marseillaise_," last kiss from some one's grandmother, and curtain!
+Glad it's all over!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+BY MR. JUSTICE CHARLES (_omitted in reports of his decision last
+week_).--"The Dahomey Troupe of Amazons appear only in the evenings
+at certain music-halls. Their name should be changed to 'Day-homey and
+Night-outy Amazons.'"
+
+  (_Signed_)
+  "CHARLES HIS FRIEND."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE CHESHIRE CRUELTY TO CHILDREN CASE.--Rightly were condemned the two
+unfeeling PHELANS. No jury could possibly have any consideration
+for such PHELANS as these. If for the male prisoner the jury had
+recommended a tail or two of the Cheshire Cat (o'-nine-tails), it
+would not have been thought too much.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+MOTTO FOR MR. INDERWICK, Q.C.--The eminent Counsel of the QUEEN has
+been recently admitted to the freedom of the borough of Rye. He has
+added to his coat of arms the words, "Mind your Rye."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+NEW DESCRIPTIVE TITLE OF THE G. O. M. SUGGESTED BY LORD SALISBURY'S
+LATEST SPEECH.--"The Autocrat of the Round Table."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: "EMINENTLY A SCOTTISH GOVERNMENT."
+
+(_Mr. Asquith's Speech, Tuesday, October 17._)]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: TOO PARTICULAR.
+
+"LOOK HERE--CONFOUND IT, ISAACSON! YOU'VE PLAYED ME A PRETTY TRICK
+WITH THIS ANCESTOR YOU SOLD ME! SHOWED IT TO A FRIEND YESTERDAY, AND
+TOLD HIM IT WAS THE PORTRAIT OF MY ANCESTOR WHO CAME OVER WITH WILLIAM
+THE FIRST; AND HE SAID, 'WHAT A FUNNY THING HE SHOULD HAVE DRESSED
+HIMSELF IN THE STYLE OF WILLIAM THE FOURTH!'"
+
+"VELL THAT'TH NOTHING. I JETH MADE A MITHTAKE OF A FEW YEARTH--VILLIAM
+THE FIRTHT AND VILLIAM THE FOURTH; ONLY HITH GREAT-GRANDTHON!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE SAX SCOTCH PIPERS.
+
+    ["The present Government is eminently a Scottish Government.
+    You must remember that there are in the present Cabinet no
+    less than five Scotch members of the House of Commons ... and
+    we have also a member of the House of Lords who is one of the
+    most eminent Scotchmen--I mean Lord ROSEBERY."--_Mr. Asquith
+    in Glasgow._]
+
+    "_A Sassenach chief may be bonily built,
+    He may purchase a sporran, a bonnet, a kilt;
+    Stick a skeaen in his hose--wear an acre of stripes--
+    But he cannot assume an affection for pipes._"
+
+      --_Bab Ballads._
+
+AIR--"_The Hundred Pipers._"
+
+  Wi' sax stalwart pipers an' a', an' a',
+    Wi' sax Scotch pipers an' a', an' a',
+  We'll up an' gie them a blaw, a blaw,
+    Wi' sax stout Scotch pipers an' a', an' a',
+  Oh! it's Sassenach bummlers awa', awa'!
+    Our WULLIE'S a Scotsman sae braw, sae braw,
+  We'll on an' we'll march to St. Stephen's ha',
+    Wi' its seats an' its salaries an' a', an' a'!
+      Wi' sax Scotch pipers an' a', an' a', &c.
+
+  Oh! wha' is formaist o' a', o' a'?
+    Oh! wha' does follow the blaw, the blaw?
+  Bonnie WULLIE, the king o' us a', hurrah!
+    Wi' his five stout pipers an' a', an' a'!
+  His bonnet an' feather he's wavin' high.
+    His bagpipes wheeze, an' his ribbons fly;
+  The nor' win' plays wi' his thin white hair,
+    While the pipers blaw wi' an unco' flare.
+      Wi' sax Scotch pipers an' a', an' a', &c.
+
+  PRIMROSE, an' CAMPBELL, sae dink an' sae deep,
+    Shouther to shouther wi' _Marjoribanks_ they keep,
+  ROBERTSON, BALFOUR, an' ASHER a' round
+    Dance themselves dry to the pibroch's sound.
+  Dumfoundered the English saw, they saw,
+    Dumfoundered they heard the blaw, the blaw
+  Hath a Southron ae chance ava' ava',
+    Wi' these sax Scotch pipers an' a', an' a'?
+      Wi' the sax Scotch pipers an' a', an' a',
+      The Saxon must go to the wa', the wa'!
+      WULLIE'S up an' gies them a blaw, a blaw
+      Wi' his sax Scotch pipers an' a', an' a'!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A CONTRIBUTION TO THE CELEBRATED PICKWICKIAN EXAMINATION PAPER.--_To
+Students of Pickwick._--On what (as far as this questioner is aware)
+solitary occasion is champagne mentioned in _Pickwick_? who drank
+a bottle of it? where was it consumed? after what exhilarating
+performance?--ED.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"_TA TA'_D AND FEATHERED."--"_A soft thing that waves_" was the
+description of a feather given by a Lady Correspondent--and therefore
+a perfectly Fair One--in the _Times_ last Saturday. But surely "_a
+soft thing that waves_" is evidently a lady's hand bidding somebody
+"_Ta! ta!_"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+BY OUR OWN CRAMMER.--In unsuccessful candidates for Army and Navy
+Exams. England may have lost some of her best "pluck'd" soldiers and
+sailors.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+BRIC-A-BRAC.
+
+(_By a Gallio._)
+
+    ["Poetry will degenerate into mere literary _bric-a-brac_,
+    such as the composition of rondels and triolets."--DR. C. H.
+    PEARSON.]
+
+  Literary odds and ends
+    Will for lays be scribbled!
+  PEARSON thus ahead portends
+    "Litter"-ary odds and ends.
+  Pessimist, you owe amends
+    For this forecast ribald:--
+    "Literary odds and ends
+    Will for lays be scribbled!"
+
+  Call you then mere _bric-a-brac_
+    Triolet and rondel?
+  _All_ that's knocked off with a knack
+  Call you then mere _bric-a-brac_?"
+  Man of prose, you thus attack
+    VILLON, DOBSON, BLONDEL.
+  Call you _then_ mere _bric-a-brac_
+    Triolet and rondel?!
+
+  'Pon my word, _I_ don't much care
+    If you prove your thesis.
+  Poetry's not _my_ affair--
+  'Pon my word, I don't much care!
+  My three triolets pray tear
+    As you please, to pieces!
+  'Pon my word, I don't much care
+    If _they_ prove your thesis!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The recent illuminations in Paris, it is said, were a very costly
+matter. Naturally, as an "_affaire de LUX(E)_."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+UNDER THE ROSE.
+
+(_A Story in Scenes._)
+
+SCENE XI.--_At the entrance to The Eldorado Music-hall._
+TIME--_Saturday evening, about_ 8.30. Mrs. TOOVEY, _who has just
+alighted from a Waterloo bus, approaches; she wears a veil, under
+which her spectacles gleam balefully, and passes the various boards
+and coloured posters with averted eyes_.
+
+_Mrs. Toovey_ (_to herself_). I'm late--I ought to have taken a cab,
+instead of that dawdling bus. Still, I shall be in plenty of time to
+surprise Pa in the very midst of his profligacy. (_She looks
+around her._) Gilding, rosewood and mahogany panels, plush, stained
+glass--oh, the wicked luxury of it all! (_She pushes open a swing
+door._) Where is the place you call Box C? I--I have to meet somebody
+there.
+
+    [_She finds herself in a glittering bar, where she produces a
+    distinct sensation among a few loungers there._
+
+_A Barmaid_ (_tartly_). There's no entrance to the music-hall this
+way. You've come to the wrong place.
+
+_Mrs. Toov._ (_with equal acidity_). Ah, young woman, you need not
+tell me _that_! (_She goes out with a withering glance, and hears
+stifled sniggers as the doors swing after her._) A drinking-bar on the
+very threshold to trap the unwary--disgraceful! (_She tries the next
+door, and finds a stalwart official, in a fancy uniform._) Will you
+have the goodness to conduct me to Box C, instantly?
+
+_The Official._ Next door, please, Ma'am. This only admits to the
+Grand Lounge.
+
+_Mrs. Toov._ (_to herself_). The "Grand Lounge," indeed! (_She opens
+another door, and finds a Pay-box, where she addresses the check-taker
+through the pigeon-hole_.) I want to go to Box C. I've asked for it at
+I don't know how many places, and----
+
+_Checktaker_ (_politely_). I'm really afraid you'll have to ask again,
+Ma'am. This is the Promenade. Box-office _next_ entrance.
+
+_Mrs. Toov._ (_to herself, indignantly_). I only hope they make it as
+difficult for other people to get in as they do for me! So Pa comes
+here to lounge and promenade, does he? Oh, let me only catch him, I'll
+send him promenading! (_She goes to the Box-office._) I want Box C,
+wherever that is.
+
+_Book-Keeper._ Can give you Box D, if you like. Box C is reserved for
+this evening.
+
+_Mrs. Toov._ (_sharply_). I am quite aware of that. For Mr. THEOPHILUS
+TOOVEY. I have come to join him here.
+
+_Book-K._ (_referring to book_). It is entered in that name,
+certainly; but--hem--may I ask if you belong to Mr. TOOVEY'S party?
+
+_Mrs. Toov._ (_crushingly_). No doubt you consider that his wife has
+no claim to---- Most certainly I belong to his party.
+
+_Book-K._ That is quite sufficient, Madam. (_To_ Attendant.) Show this
+lady to Box C. (_To himself, as_ Mrs. T. _follows the_ Attendant _up
+some velvet-covered stairs_.) Well, it's no business of mine; but if
+Mr. TOOVEY, whoever _he_ is, isn't careful what he's about, he may be
+sorry for it--that's all!
+
+_Mrs. Toov._ (_to herself_). They never even asked for my ticket.
+Pa's evidently well known here! (_To_ Attendant.) A programme? with
+pictures of dancing girls all over it! You ought to be ashamed to
+offer such things to a respectable woman!
+
+_Att._ (_surprised_). I've never heard them objected to before, Ma'am.
+Can I bring you any refreshments? (_Persuasively._) Bottle-ale or
+stout? Lemonade and brandy? Whisky and soda?
+
+_Mrs. Toov._ Don't imagine you can tempt _me_, man. I've been a total
+abstainer ever since I was five!
+
+_Att._ (_opening box-door_). Indeed, Ma'am. I suppose now you 'aven't
+mistook this for Exeter 'All?--because it _ain't_!
+
+_Mrs. Toov._ I am in no danger of making _that_ mistake! (_She enters
+the box._) I am here before Pa after all. What a gaudy, wicked,
+glaring place to be sure! Ugh, this _filthy_ tobacco; it chokes me,
+and I can scarcely see across the hall. Not that I _want_ to see.
+Well, if I sit in the corner behind the curtain I shan't be seen
+myself. To think that I--_I_--should be here at all, but the
+responsibility is on Pa's head, not mine! What are those two girls
+singing about on the stage? They are dressed _decently_ enough, I'll
+say _that_ for them, though pinafores and baby bonnets at _their_ age
+are ridiculous.
+
+    [_She listens._
+
+  _The Sisters Sarcenet_ (_on stage_).
+    You men are deceivers and awfully sly. Oh, you _are_!
+
+  _Male portion of audience_ (_as is expected from them_).
+        No we _aren't!_
+
+  _The Sisters S._ (_archly_). Now you _know_ you are!
+      You come home with the milk; should your poor wife ask why,
+      "Pressing business, my pet!" you serenely reply.
+      When you've really been out on the "Tiddle-y-hi!" Yes, you _have_!
+
+  _Male audience_ (_as before_). No, we've _not_!
+  _The Sister S._ (_with the air of accusing angels_).
+        Why, you _know_ you have!
+
+_Mrs. Toov._ (_to herself_). It's to those young women's credit that
+they have the courage to come here and denounce the men to their
+faces--like this. And it's gone _home_ to them, too! they're shouting
+out "Over!" (_Here the Sisters suddenly turn a couple of "cart-wheels"
+with surprising unanimity, amidst roars of applause._) Oh, the
+shameless minxes! I will _not_ sit and look on at such scandalous
+exhibitions. (_She moves to the corner nearest the stage, and turns
+her back upon the proceedings._) How much longer will Pa compel me to
+assist at such scenes, I wonder? _Why_ doesn't he come? Where is he
+now? (_Bitterly._) No doubt on what those vulgar wretches would call
+the "Tiddle-y-hi!" (_The_ Brothers BIMBO, _Eccentric Clowns, appear on
+the stage_.) I can't sit here in a corner looking at nothing. If I do
+see anything improper, THEOPHILUS shall answer for it. (_She changes
+her place again._) Acrobats--well, they're inoffensive at least. Oh, I
+do believe one of the nasty things is climbing up to the balcony; he's
+going to walk along here!
+
+_First Brother Bimbo_ (_on stage, to his confrere, who is balancing
+himself on the broad ledge of the box tier_). Ohe--'old up, there.
+Prenny garde! Ah, il tombera! There, I _told_ yer so! (_The_ Second
+Brother B. _has reached the front of_ Mrs. TOOVEY'S _box, where he
+pretends to stumble_.) Oh, le pover garcong, look at 'im _now_! Come
+back, do! Ask the lady to ketch 'old of your trousers be'ind!
+
+_Mrs. Toov._ (_to the_ Second Brother, _firmly_). Don't expect me to
+do anything of the sort. Go back, as your brother asks you to, you
+silly fellow. You shouldn't attempt such a foolhardy thing at all!
+
+_Second Br. B._ (_to the_ First). Oh, my! There's _such_ a nice young
+lady in here; she's asking me to come in and set along with her! _May_
+I?
+
+    [_He lets himself drop astride the ledge, and wags his head
+    at_ Mrs. TOOVEY, _to her intense horror_.
+
+_Mrs. Toov._ (_in an audible undertone_). If you don't take away that
+leg at once, I'll pinch it!
+
+_Second Br. B._ Eh? Not _now_; my brother says I mustn't. "Come round
+afterwards?" Well, well, we'll see! (_He springs up on the ledge
+again, and kisses his hand to her._) Goo'bye, ducky! 'Ave no fears for
+_me_. Whoo-up!
+
+[Illustration: "Goo'bye, ducky! Ave no fears for _me_!"]
+
+    [_He continues his tour of the balcony, amidst roars of
+    laughter._
+
+_Mrs. Toov._ (_falling back in the box, speechless with fury_). And
+_this_ is the treatment Pa exposes me to--all those unmanly wretches
+laughing at me! But I don't care; here I stay till Pa comes. _Oh_,
+this smoke; I shall be poisoned by it soon! Upon my word, there's
+a bold hussy coming on to sing, in a man's coat and black satin
+knee-breeches. I'll stop my ears; they shall see there's _one_
+woman here who respects herself! (_She does so, during that and the
+subsequent performances; an hour passes._) How much longer am I to be
+compelled to remain here? This is terrible; three creatures in tight
+red suits, got up to look like devils! I wonder they've no fear of
+being struck dead on the stage! They're standing on each other's
+stomachs. I daren't look on at such blasphemy! I'll take off my
+spectacles; then, at least, my eyes won't be offended by seeing
+anything distinctly! (_She removes her glasses, and replaces them in
+their case, which she lays on the box-ledge._) They're gone, thank
+goodness. What's this? There's someone opening the box-door. Pa--at
+last! Well, I'm ready for him!
+
+    [_She stiffens in her chair._
+
+_Attendant's Voice_ (_outside_). This is Box C, Miss. Can I bring you
+any refreshments? Bottle-ale, stout, lemonade, Miss?
+
+_A Female Voice._ I--I don't know. There's a gentleman with me; he'll
+be here directly; he only stopped to speak to somebody. Ah, he's
+coming now.
+
+_Mrs. Toov._ "Miss"?! This is Pa's party, then. _Oh!!_
+
+    [_A quietly dressed, and decidedly good-looking girl enters,
+    and starts on seeing that the box is already occupied._
+
+_Mrs. Toov._ (_rising in towering wrath_). You were not expecting to
+find _me_ here, Miss, I've no doubt?
+
+_The Girl_ (_sitting down_). No; PHIL didn't say there would be anyone
+else; but any friend of his I'm sure----
+
+_Mrs. Toov._ PHIL? you dare to call him "PHIL!" Do you know who I am,
+you insolent girl, you? I am his Wife!
+
+_The Girl._ His wife? I don't believe it. Are you sure you don't mean
+his mother. My _Phil_ married to _you_, indeed--a pretty story!
+
+_Mrs. Toov._ (_trembling with rage_). Go out of this box instantly, or
+I'll make you!
+
+_The Girl._ I shall do nothing of the kind. Wait till my friend comes,
+and we'll soon----(_As the door opens._) PHIL, PHIL, here's an abusive
+old female here who pretends she is your wife, and wants to order me
+out. I believe she must either be intoxicated or out of her senses!
+
+_Mrs. Toov._ (_pouncing upon the newcomer and boxing his ears
+soundly_). Is she? it is you who are out of _your_ senses, Pa! Take
+that--and _that_--and now come home with me, do you hear?
+
+_The Newcomer_ (_with his hand to his cheek_). "Pa," am I? I thought
+I was your _husband_ just now! Well, I must have married before I
+was born, either way. And now, perhaps, you'll explain what all this
+means?
+
+_Mrs. Toov._ (_faintly_). Oh, my goodness! I've made a dreadful
+mistake; it _isn't_ Pa! Let me go--let me go!
+
+_The Newc._ (_putting his back against the door_). Not yet, Ma'am; not
+yet. You don't go like this; after insulting this young lady, to whom
+I've the honour of being engaged, and telling her you're my wife, and
+then smacking my face in her presence. I've my dignity to consider,
+and I want satisfaction out of you. Come, we won't have a row here,
+for the sake of this young lady; just step out into lobby here, and
+I'll give you in charge for assault. Stay where you are, MILLY, my
+dear. Now, Ma'am, will you go, or shall I send for a constable?
+(Mrs. T. _totters out, protesting incoherently, and begging to be
+released_.) Well, I don't want to spoil my evening's pleasure on your
+account. You give me your name and address, and I'll simply summon you
+for assault; which is more than you deserve. If you won't, I'll charge
+you!
+
+_Mrs. Toov._ (_reluctantly_). Oh, indeed it was an acc----I will
+_not_ give you my name. Yes, yes, I will; anything to get out of this
+horrible place. (_The young man produces a pencil, and pulls down
+his left shirt cuff._) Mrs.--TOO--no, I don't mean TOO--TOMKINSON
+JONES--The--the Laburnums--U--upper Tooting. There, _now_ are you
+satisfied?
+
+_The Young Man_ (_recording it_). Thank you, that's all _I_ require.
+You'll hear from me later on. Good evening!
+
+_Mrs. Toov._ (_as she crawls down the staircase_). I have only just
+saved myself by a--a _fib_! And I haven't even found Pa out. But I
+_will_. I'll go straight home and sit up for him!
+
+END OF SCENE XI.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: IMPROVED GNOMENCLATURE.
+
+(_A popular Song adapted to the Glacial Period._)
+
+"ON AN ICICLE MADE FOR TWO."]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+FRAGMENTS FROM A FRANCO-RUSSIAN PHRASE-BOOK.
+
+(_Picked up at Toulon after the recent Fetes._)
+
+AT THE BANQUET.
+
+I am glad to be next to a Russian. Believe me, France has always been
+the best friend of Russia.... No, _that_ was not France--it was the
+Corsican. Altogether a different thing.... _Were_ we at the Crimea? It
+is possible--through the perfidy of those English.... Try some of this
+old sherry. Your shark-fin soup is delicious.... As I was saying, we
+are a Republic now, and adore Liberty.... Siberia must be a charming
+place, and the climate ravishing. You have never been there? A
+pleasure to come!... Take a _carafe_ of champagne--there is plenty
+more. We are a democratic nation, and the hearts of our populace go
+out to an autocrat. I know well that all autocrats are not nice--but
+_yours!!_ _Do_ have some more champagne.... These are _Cailles
+Schuvaroff_. They are Russian--so they _must_ be good!... Do you know
+that my wife and I kissed the hands of (_ten--fifteen--fifty--two
+hundred_) Russian sailors through the portholes of your flagship this
+afternoon?... Not at all--we quite enjoyed it.... There is a proposal
+to present your Admiral with a model of the Tour Eiffel in brilliants.
+I remember it was exhibited in Paris at a franc for admission--but
+few people went. I wish he may get it. I subscribed ten
+(_Napoleons--francs--centimes_) towards the fund for presenting
+commemorative brooches to the wives, daughters, and sweethearts of
+your seamen. I hope they will all arrive quite safely.... Have you
+received a silver cup with a suitable inscription? Only a yellow
+champagne-glass with a motto! That is mean, miserable, shabby! I will
+speak to a waiter about it.... Why do you not drink? Fill your glass.
+I am filling mine.... Have you heard that our warm-hearted nation has
+forwarded to the Russian Fleet one hundred cases of the best blacking?
+The Triple Alliance is trembling in its shoes.... You drink nothing!
+All the same, it seems to me your Tsar might have sent _more_ ships
+while he was about it. Yes, I repeat; more--and bigger ones. It would
+have been more polished. But you Russians are _not_ polished; you are
+cold, brutal, phlegmatic. You remind me of an Englishman I once saw
+on the stage of the Varietes. But he had red whiskers, and said, "Aoh,
+yes!" You drink too much. The Russians are all intemperate--it is the
+climate. So long as you help us to our revenge, we do not care _what_
+you are. I speak quite frankly. This is a great day for France. As
+a Frenchman, I shall never see caviar again without a thrill of
+heartfelt emotion. But your shark-fin soup was disgusting--beastly. It
+is that which is making me so ill.... _Au revoir_, dear friend. I am
+going under the table for a little while--to think.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Mrs. R. wants to know what was the classic story about Ajax and
+Telephone? "So," says she, "as _that_ was hundreds of years ago, it
+isn't such a _very_ new invention."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: UNCALLED-FOR REVELATIONS.
+
+_Tommy_ (_to Caller_). "OH, WE'VE BEEN HAVING SUCH FUN! PAPA HAS BEEN
+PUTTING ON MAMMA'S HAIR AND FRIGHTENING BABY!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+LITTLE MASTER MINORITY.
+
+_A Dialogue in Dialect, some way after Bret Harte's "Jim."_
+
+    [Referring, in the course of conversation, to the deadlock
+    in the Senate, Mr. CHAMBERLAIN said:--"My opinion is that the
+    Americans are the most patient people on the globe. Such
+    an outcome from an organised system of obstruction would be
+    impossible in England, which I venture to say, with my foot on
+    New York soil, is far more democratic than America. Democracy,
+    as I take it, means the government of the people by the
+    people."--_The "Times'" New York Correspondent, Oct. 13._]
+
+  "C[oe]lum, non (?) animum, mutant, qui trans mare currunt."
+
+_Jonathan to Joseph, loquitur:_--
+
+  Say thar! P'r'aps
+  You're of them chaps
+  _Approve_ this child,
+  Who makes _me_ wild!--
+  _No?_--no offence:
+  Thar ain't much sense
+    In gittin' riled!
+
+  JOE, old chum,
+    Welcome ye are!
+  Say! Ye've jest come
+    Up from down thar.
+  Lookin' round, JOE?
+    That's right, Sir! _You_
+    Ain't of that crew
+      Makes freedom rar'.
+
+  _Tory?_ Not much,
+    That ain't _my_ kind:
+  I ain't no such,--
+    Democrat--blind!
+  Rayther like _you_!
+
+  Well, this yer boy
+  (With his derned toy),
+  Is a fair limb.--
+  Not much--in size!
+  Stirs _your_ surprise?--
+  Wal, that _is_ strange:
+    _Your_ nipper, now,
+    Riz up some row,
+  Down under thar,
+  Ony this year!
+
+  Since you came here.
+    You've felt a change!
+  Wal, he licks _us_!
+        Eh?
+  _Spank him_, you say!
+        _Spank?_--
+  _This_ little cuss?
+
+  You make me star,--
+  Down under, thar,
+  Minorities stop
+  Truck--in your shop,
+  And _you_ don't rar'!
+    Here, wide awake
+    To our mistake.
+  _Our_ boy you bar!
+
+        _Spank!_--
+  This--little--cuss?
+  Wal, he does fuss,
+  Raises a muss.
+    His "Silver" whim,
+  His spoutin' prank--
+    (Leather-lung'd limb!)
+  Does crab the swim.
+    _Should_ like to yank
+      Him crost my knees,
+    And--but thar! spank
+        _Him?_
+
+  _Patient_, Sir--I?
+    No democrat?
+  Here, Sir, stand by!
+    I can't stand _that_!
+  _You_ wouldn't stand
+  _Him_--in your land?
+        Eh?
+  What's that you say?
+  Why, dern it!--sho!--
+  Draw it mild, JOE!
+
+        Bold?
+  Obstruction? Yes!
+  Still, as I guess--
+  Though I'll confess
+    _You_'re an authority--
+  'Tain't no new thing
+  (_You_'ve had your fling!),
+    But ornery,
+      Derned old,
+    Loud-lunged--Minority!
+      Little--Master--Minority!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.
+
+_Barabbas_ is a romance by MARIE CORELLI, founded upon the narrative
+given by the Four Evangelists. It is in three volumes, and _Barabbas_
+is the principal character. Oratorios have been composed musically
+illustrating the sacred story, mystery plays there have been showing
+it forth in action, but never yet have we been taken, as it were,
+behind the scenes, introduced to JUDAS ISCARIOT'S sister, and been
+informed as to the motives of human action underlying "the World's
+Tragedy." Whether "the stock of _Barabbas_" hath been sold out or not,
+the Baron cannot imagine that this novel form of treating Holy Writ
+will ever be popular with any section of our ordinary reading public.
+MARIE CORELLI is a writer as picturesque as prolific, but she has
+wasted her time and talents on this romance. There used to be a
+perversion of the text, which took this form, "Now BARABBAS was--a
+publisher" (was it SYDNEY SMITH'S jest?); but if that applies
+nowadays, the publisher who depended solely upon this particular work
+for his success would, probably, far nearer resemble ZACCHEUS than
+BARABBAS, inasmuch as he might find himself "up a tree."
+
+_Catriona_ is written by R. L. STEVENSON, and published in one volume
+by CASSELL & CO. "Aweel, aweel, mon!" quoth the Baron, after several
+praiseworthy attempts at mastering the Scotch dialect in which the
+story is told; "aweel, aweel! I am swier to leave ye, _Catriona_!
+But it maun be as it will; I'm nane sae muckle learned in your Scotch
+tongue; sae I'll e'en put doun the book, or I'll be wearyful, deil hae
+'t!" No: Scotch the Baron cannot manage--except taken as whiskey. But
+he will tell those who love the language that MCSTEVENSON'S _Catriona_
+they will enjoy to their heart's content. All the same it remains a
+mystery to the Baron de B. W.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+IN HIGH FEATHER.--It would not be fair even, for Mr. HUDSON, to define
+all ladies wearing feathers as "a Feather-headed Lot."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: LITTLE MASTER MINORITY.
+
+BROTHER JONATHAN. "WA'AL, MR. JOSEPH; I GUESS ALL YOUR SYMPATHIES ARE
+WITH THIS LITTLE CUSS?"
+
+MR. CHAMBERLAIN. "NOT AT ALL, NOT AT ALL,--ON _YOUR_ SIDE OF THE
+ATLANTIC!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: THE BOOM IN BEETLES--THE LATEST FROM AFRICA.
+
+["The new arrival at the Zoo is a specimen of the Goliath Beetle from
+West Africa--a giant even among its own kind."--_Daily Graphic._]]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+TO A LOST FRIEND.
+
+(_By a Briefless Barrister._)
+
+  No more! alas! completely gone,
+    No shadow of a trace is left,
+  And I have still to linger on,
+    Of your companionship bereft,
+  And fight the battle to the end,
+  As best I may with one less friend.
+
+  It seems a cruel stroke of Fate.
+    How eagerly I watched you grow!
+  How much I loved you; how elate
+    When other people came to know
+  On what I always had insisted--
+  That you in point of fact existed.
+
+  I played with you, who every day
+    Grew more responsive to my touch.
+  I stroked you in the gentlest way,
+    With sweet caresses. Ah! how much
+  We seemed, as though a child and mother,
+  To be bound up in one another.
+
+  You _did_ appear to like me then,
+    No mere lip-service seemingly
+  Was that you rendered to me when
+    You never contradicted me,
+  But hung upon my words, though true
+  It also was they hung on you.
+
+  And then one day you disappeared,
+    Cut off in life's most sunny prime.
+  I missed you sadly as I feared
+    And thought I should do at the time.
+  Though now your image comes and plain
+  Grows on me sometimes once again.
+
+  Oh! my moustache! I did the deed,
+    I own it frankly, I alone.
+  I felt it (for it made me bleed),
+    Yet still you always must have known,
+  Though you were of proportions regal,
+  You hardly helped me to look legal.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A TRIUMPH IN COOKERY.--When the Cook makes a hash of the marrow-bones.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"HE IS A MANN, TAKE HIM FOR ALL IN ALL, WE NEVER WANT TO LOOK UPON HIS
+LIKE AGAIN." (_Shakspeare adapted_).--It is said he is going to join
+the Ministry--not the Cabinet--but that of the Established Church. But
+how will so independent a spirit ever submit to "take orders" from an
+Archbishop? This is to reduce himself from a MANN to a Mannikin. Not
+likely.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+UP TO DATE TRANSLATION.--"_Qu'est-ce qu'il y a sur le tapis?_"
+asked the Frenchman. "You mean 'what's on the tape?'" returned the
+Englishman.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE IDEAL DRAMA.
+
+  Oh think what a change would soon be wrought
+    In sins society now condones,
+  Were virtue and honesty properly taught
+    By Comedy's smiles and Tragedy's groans!
+  The peer, the scholar, the fool, the fop,
+    Could learn deportment, high-class, tip-top,
+  From a _Dancing Girl_ in a _Bauble Shop_--
+    At least so thinks Mr. H. A. JONES.
+
+  We shall call it "the work," and not "the play,"
+    When due solemnity prompts the tones
+  Of serious actors, more grave than gay;
+    They may be bores, but they won't be drones.
+  So learn, should you wish to have a spree,
+    What your Criterion ought to be,
+  Or the _Tempter_ will put you up a Tree.
+    Hear eloquent Mr. H. A. JONES!
+
+  Amusement? What! Do you dare to think
+    That those respectable classic crones,
+  Melpomene, Thalia, they should sink
+    To make you laugh, like a nigger Bones?
+  If you should expect to be amused,
+  Your money would simply be refused,
+  And you would be turned away, abused
+    By furious Mr. H. A. JONES.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: THE ETERNAL FITNESS OF THINGS.
+
+"AND WHAT IS YOUR NAME?"
+
+"MARIAN WATSON. BUT MY LAST MISTRESS USED TO CALL ME MARY, BECAUSE
+MARIAN ISN'T A PROPER NAME FOR A SERVANT, SHE SAID."]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+REPARTEES FOR THE RAILWAY.
+
+"Smoking not allowed." Of course, but I am going to enjoy my cigar in
+silence.
+
+"Want the window closed." Very sorry, but I can't find a cathedral.
+
+"Find my journal a nuisance." Dear me! was under the impression it was
+a newspaper.
+
+"Allow you to pass." Afraid only the Secretary can manage that for
+you; he alone has power to issue free tickets.
+
+"Do I mind the draught?" Not when I am attending to the chessman.
+
+"Do I know the station?" Of the people on the platform? Probably lower
+middle class.
+
+"Is this right for Windsor?" Yes, if it's not left for somewhere else.
+
+"Are we allowed five minutes for lunch?" Think not; but you can have
+sandwiches at the counter.
+
+"Isn't this first-class?" Quite excellent--first-rate--couldn't be
+better!
+
+"I want to go second." Then you had better follow me.
+
+"I am third." Indeed! And who were first and second?
+
+"I think this must be London." Very likely; if it is, it mustn't be
+anywhere else.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A CRY TO WHYMPER.--Last Wednesday Mr. EDWARD WHYMPER lectured at the
+Birkbeck. His subject was "_Twenty thousand feet above the Sea._"
+"That's ten thousand pairs of boots!" writes our shoemaker. "Wish I'd
+had the order! Well, well, soled again!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A WALK IN DEVON.
+
+PART I.--THE START.
+
+_Notes from the Travel Diary of Toby, M.P._
+
+  _The Cottage, Burrow-in-the-Corner, Devon._
+
+Went out for a walk just now; nothing remarkable in that; the wonder
+came in when I got back. Present postal address given at head of this
+note. The Cottage is there all right, but where the township, hamlet,
+village, or whatever Burrow-in-the-Corner may be, is situated, haven't
+the least idea, and I've tramped pretty well round the country. The
+Cottage stands at four cross roads, on the top of a hill. Specks in
+the distance, in the valley and on the hillsides, understood to be
+farm-houses. Three miles off is Tipperton; it is approached from this
+point by a steep hill: most convenient way of getting to bottom is to
+lie down on top and roll; some people said to have become adepts in
+practise; can even enjoy quiet sleep on the way, and pull up at the
+very shop in High Street where they have business. So it is said; but
+I rarely see any people about Burrow-in-the-Corner; so how can they
+approach Tipperton in this or other way? The only persons that pass
+The Cottage palings are men who stop to ask their way. The population
+is sparse, and seems to fill up its time by losing itself. This should
+have been a warning to me, but it wasn't.
+
+The Cottage been standing here for at least two hundred years. Began
+life as a smithy; only recently retired from business. The initials of
+one of its tenants are "R. B." He has carved the letters on the front
+door, with the date, 1813, following it. Fancy he must have been
+pretty old then, for, two years later, he cuts his initials again
+with date 1815; the writing quite shakey; possibly he had heard of
+Waterloo, and his hand was tremulous with patriotic joy. On second
+thought, that improbable. News of Waterloo not likely to have reached
+Burrow-in-the-Corner within limit of twelve months.
+
+The smithy still stands as "R. B." left it when his bellows blew their
+last gasp. The Cottage itself transformed. The thatched roof remains;
+also the whitewashed walls, the porch, the little windows embayed in
+thick walls, which quite naturally form window-seats, where, if you
+take care not to bang your head, you may sit at ease, and look out
+over the swelling upland--rich red where it has just been ploughed;
+for the most part green pastures trending down to the Exe, a silver
+stream, rippling on to the sea, reckless of all it will pass through
+before it joins it. We have a parlour, but prefer to sit in the
+kitchen, a dainty room with gleaming dark-red sideboard; a kitchener,
+polished to distraction, so that looking-glasses are superfluities; a
+piano in recess by fireplace; a chimney-piece, on which gleam copper
+pans, brass candlesticks, and pewter plates, with their initials and
+ancient birth-dates polished almost out of sight; white-curtained
+windows, bright with begonias and cyclamen; a low ceiling, supported
+by a pragmatical beam, strictly conforming to the regulation that
+forbids a straight line in the room.
+
+Have discovered that kitchen is best place in house to dine in; only
+drawback is that everything served so unexpectedly hot, new-comers
+scald themselves. Soon grow used to it, and to get grilled mushrooms
+served really hot is compensation for inconvenience. As for pancakes
+(made with freshly-laid eggs), begin to think I never tasted the real
+delicacy before. Your true pancake, as BRILLAT-SAVARIN omitted to say
+in his well-known treatise, should be eaten to the music of the one
+in the pan preparing to follow. When we go back to town, mean to ask
+servants to sit in dining-room whilst we dine in kitchen.
+
+When I speak of going back to town, of course I imply the certainty
+of being able to find our way out of Burrow-in-the-Corner to nearest
+railway station.
+
+Seems a good deal to have four cross roads all to yourself at your
+front door. The Cottage scarcely of sufficient importance to justify
+such lavish accommodation. But in these parts the amount of arable
+land wasted in roads and lanes is almost criminal. It was a Saturday
+evening when I went out to find the post-office. Nothing seemed
+plainer than instructions.
+
+[Illustration: LIKA JOKO'S JOTTINGS.--No. 2. PHEASANT SHOOTING.]
+
+"Go straight down the road facing you, and you'll come to a church.
+Close by it is a house; letter-box inserted in side of house; box
+painted red, you know."
+
+Of course I knew; set off with a light heart and handful of letters.
+A little way down high road, on right-hand side, lane suddenly opened
+and delved downwards, its sinuous course embowered in trees; where
+they failed, barricaded with hedges. High road seemed originally bent
+upon taking this direction; changed its mind; turned abruptly to left.
+Suppose a few traps driven down hill must occasionally have taken this
+dip; feeble attempt to avoid too frequent recurrence of accident made
+by setting posts on line of high road, and painting tops white. If,
+after this, anyone on pitch-dark night mistakes road, only themselves
+to blame. Other roads and lanes perplexingly branching out to right
+and left at short intervals; kept on steadily till church came in
+view; found the house; not difficult, as there was only one; also
+discovered letter-box painted red. Twenty minutes to five was hour for
+clearing box; barely that; posted letters. Turning away when observed
+remark on letter-box, "Next collection Monday."
+
+Pretty go, this; postman evidently been before his time; no sign of
+him on wide expanse. Looking round perceived Elderly Gentleman sitting
+in garden behind house; doubtless this was the householder; apparently
+had anticipated Sunday by putting on best clothes; black frock coat,
+getting brown about the seams; high collar, nearly covering black
+stock; black waistcoat, which seemed to belong to other suit than the
+coat; (was buttoned close up over stock, whilst coat, with generous
+lapels folded back, buttoned low down); brown trousers, a little short
+in leg; stout green umbrella under left arm. Elderly Gentleman was
+sitting on rustic bench, with cup of cider at hand, and expression of
+serene content on his wrinkled face. A quaintly-coloured cup, with two
+handles close together, presumably with view to taking a good pull
+at contents. "Bin my grandfather's," he said, looking at it with
+affection, and incidentally half emptying it. There was a motto
+roughly scrawled by the potter; Elderly Gentleman read it to me:
+
+              Erth I am et es most trew,
+              Disdain me not for so be yew.
+
+Thus it was spelled, but no one born out of Devon could convey the
+tremendous sound of the _u_ in the rhyming words. This peculiar to the
+soil; even barndoor fowls have it; notice that gamecock at The
+Cottage when it wakes me early in the morning, always shrilly pipes
+"cock-a-doodle-_dew_!" Asked Elderly Gentleman if he lived here?
+Born in the house, he said. Was he going for a walk? No, only sitting
+about. Then why the umbrella? Ah! he always took it out of drawer with
+his Sunday clothes, and put it under his arm, if he was only sitting
+in the garden.
+
+But that's another story, told me after we had caught the postman.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"THE ART OF 'SAVOY FARE.'"
+
+Mr. D'OYLY CARTE is to be heartily congratulated on his brilliant
+mounting of Messrs. GILLIVAN and SULBERT'S most recent production
+entitled _Utopia (Limited)_. "Limited" it is in more senses than one.
+As there was, according to the immortal _Cyrus Bantam, M.C._, when he
+was giving his information to _Mr. Pickwick_, "nobody old or ugly in
+Ba-ath," so there is on "the spindle side" no one old or ugly on the
+stage of the Savoy Theatre. And this, too, with a difference, applies
+to Sir ARTHUR'S music, in which if there be nothing particularly
+new--and the old familiar friends receive the heartiest welcome--there
+is at all events nothing dull, even though it may "hardly ever" rise
+above mere commonplace. Occasionally there is a snatch of sweet melody
+that brings to mind the composer's happiest inspirations, whether in
+oratorio or burlesque.
+
+As to dramatic plot--well, strictly speaking, there is none; and it
+would be difficult to name a single telling "situation," in _Utopia
+(Limited)_. The Monarch of Utopia wishes to introduce English customs
+into his kingdom; there is a court party opposed to this innovation:
+that's the essence of it. In the First Act the one hit, is the
+introduction of _Captain Corcoran_ from _The Pinafore_ of years
+ago, and the repetition of the once popular catch-phrase about "What
+never?" and "Hardly ever," which, taken as applying to our most recent
+tragical ironclad disaster, is thoroughly appreciated. Beyond this,
+as far as dialogue and music go, in the First Act there is very little
+anyone would care to "carry away with him" after a first visit. And
+if that little were carried away the residuum would offer scant
+attraction.
+
+[Illustration: THE UNION OF ARTS. "Again we come to thee,
+Savoy."--_Old Duet._]
+
+As for the Second Act, with its Royal Drawing-room scene, its splendid
+costumes, and its mimicry of Court etiquette, have we not witnessed a
+similar spectacle on a larger scale in a Drury Lane Pantomime, not so
+very many years ago? And was not that arranged by the same artistic
+stage-manager, who is now, by a wise dispensation of theatrical
+providence, in command at the Savoy, yclept Mr. CHARLES HARRIS? I
+fancy the Drury Lane Pantomime had the best of it in point of broad
+fun, as, if I remember right, HERBERT CAMPBELL was the Queen, and
+HARRY NICHOLLS the King. Before this scene is the principal hit of
+the Second Act, when the King, Mr. BARRINGTON,--to whom author and
+composer are under considerable obligations for the success of
+the piece, and without whose acting, dancing, and singing the
+entertainment would fare indifferently well,--with his counsellors,
+an admiral, a Lord Chamberlain, and so forth, place their chairs in
+a row, and detaching from the back of each seat a musical instrument,
+turn themselves into a St. James's ("Hall" not "Court") Christy
+Minstrel Company, Unlimited, of which Mr. BARRINGTON, as the _Mr.
+Johnson_, is the life and soul. Is this the remarkably original
+creation of the united intellects of Messrs. GILBERT and SULLIVAN?
+Have they ever heard of, or did either of them ever see a burlesque
+entitled _Black Eye'd Susan_ at the Royalty, which ran a long way over
+six hundred nights, and in later days was revived at the Opera
+Comique and elsewhere? I will quote from the _Times_' notice of that
+burlesque:--
+
+    "The court-martial arranged after the fashion of the
+    Christy's orchestra, every admiral being dressed in a colour
+    corresponding to his title, an actual 'nigger' figuring as
+    Admiral of the Black, is another odd device which keeps the
+    audience in a roar."
+
+And it is this "odd device," with a Lord Chancellor, if I remember
+right, or some legal luminary in black, for one of the "corner men,"
+which is, after all is said, sung, and done, just the one thing (of
+the two in the show) that brings down the house, and is applauded
+to the echo as the outcome of the combined whimsical originality of
+Messrs. GILBERT and SULLIVAN! Imitation being the sincerest flattery,
+the author of _Black Eye'd Susan_ must be indeed gratified by this
+tribute to his original success paid by the librettist and the
+composer of _Utopia_, and having no further use for this particular
+bit of humour, he will, no doubt, be willing to make a present of it,
+free of charge, for nightly use, to the distinguished Savoyards as a
+practical congratulation to the pair of them on their return to the
+scene of some of their former triumphs.
+
+Mr. BARRINGTON is the life and soul of the show; withdraw him, and
+then there would be precious little left to draw, excepting, of
+course, the _mise en scene_, due to Messrs. HARRIS and CARTE, if I may
+put the HARRIS before the CARTE,--and to the Scenic Artist, CRAVEN.
+Nor must I forget to mention the Electric Lightists, Messrs. LYONS and
+KERR, which last is a queer combination of names, from the king of
+the forest to the lowest of snappy dogs. Miss ROSINA BRANDRAM is, of
+course, excellent in what she has to do, and Miss NANCY MCINTOSH is
+equal to the occasion of her appearance. PERCY ANDERSON'S costumes are
+gorgeous and artistic; and to the "Parisian Diamond Company" are due
+the gems of the piece. The dances are by the ever fertile and agile
+D'AUBAN, and everybody who has contributed to the success of the show
+obtains honourable mention in the neat programme-card.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Inquirer" writes: "I see an advertisement of a series called '_The
+Aldine Poets_.' Exceptional bards I suppose, as I was always given
+to understand that poets rarely eat anything. Will this series be
+followed by '_The Allunch Poets_,' _The Allbreakfast Poets_,' and
+'_The Allsup Poets'_? The last-mentioned, of course, will sing in
+praise of ALLSUP'S Ale."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Note:
+
+Missing or damaged punctuation has been repaired.
+
+
+Page 197: 'wav' corrected to 'way'
+
+"There's no entrance to the music-hall this way."
+
+Page 197: 'champage' corrected to 'champagne'
+
+"Take a _carafe_ of champagne--there is plenty more."
+
+Page 204: 'aRd' corrected to 'and'
+
+"What never?" and "Hardly ever," which, taken as applying to our
+most recent tragical ironclad disaster, is thoroughly appreciated.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari,
+October 28th 1893, by Various
+
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