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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 42530 ***
+
+PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
+
+VOL. 108. JUNE 15, 1895.
+
+_edited by Sir Francis Burnand_
+
+
+
+
+ROUNDABOUT READINGS.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+There is, of course, to be an Eisteddfod in 1896; and it appears that
+the Llandudno Executive Committee have been making some revolutionary
+proposals with reference to it. They have resolved that they
+"respectfully desire that the Gorsedd will see its way to concur in
+the subject for the chair being in any metre, and not restricted to an
+awdl. The Committee are aware that the awdl has antiquity and custom
+in its favour, but, while calculated to develop skill in metrical
+composition, the local Committee feel that the necessity of
+composing in the form of an awdl is fettering to the conception and
+imagination." I cannot say what an awdl is, but I am dead against
+fetters, and, therefore, I say, down with the dastardly, fettering
+awdl.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+  Swift, strike off the fetters, wherever they're found,
+  Let the song-loving Welshman go free and unbound.
+  To the awdl too long has he bended his knee,
+  But its fate has been sealed, and the Welshman is free;
+  As free as his ocean, as free as his breezes,
+  He shall write as he likes, in what metre he pleases;
+  And he faces his Gorsedd, and vows he won't dawdle
+  A manacled slave in the train of the awdl.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+After this it seems somewhat bald and prosaic to read that
+
+    On the recommendation of "Hwfa Mon" (the Archdruid),
+    "Eifionydd" (the registrar), "Cadvan," "Pedrog," "Gwynedd,"
+    and "Dyfed," of the Gorsedd Committee, who stated that the
+    subject chosen for the arwrgerdd (heroic poem), for which a
+    prize of £20 and a silver crown is offered, was unsuitable for
+    an arwrgerdd, the subject was changed, "Llewelyn Fawr" being
+    substituted for "St. Tudno."--Instead of the galar-gan, the
+    subject of which was "Clwydfardd," for which £15 was the
+    prize, it was decided to offer a prize of £15 and a gold medal
+    for the best awdl on "Clwydfardd," the Gorsedd stating that an
+    awdl would be much more appropriate, as the late Archdruid was
+    a great admirer of the twenty-four metres. Instead of the hir
+    a thoddaid "Cestyll Cymru" (Castles of Wales) it was decided
+    to offer a prize of £2 2_s._ for the best hir a thoddaid
+    "Beddargraph 'Elis Wyn o Wyrfai,'" and also £2 2_s._ for the
+    best hir a thoddaid "Beddargraph 'Tudno.'"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The Bishop of HEREFORD has requested the parishes in his diocese to
+send up petitions respecting the Armenian atrocities. One of these
+parishes is Walford-on-Wye, and I propose to confer immortality upon
+the reply sent by its Vicar to the Bishop.
+
+    "I regret" (says this truly Christian cleric) "having been
+    unable to respond in the way you desired to your appeal
+    respecting the persecution of Christians in Armenia. My not
+    doing so was owing to the circumstance that at the present
+    time a remonstrance from our nation can have no moral
+    weight whatever. We have now in office a Government which is
+    exercising all its ingenuity in plans for the persecution and
+    plunder of Christians here, and so long as we tolerate the
+    continuance of such a Government in office the Turk would
+    be justified in telling us to reform this scandal before we
+    presume to remonstrate with him."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In other words, the Vicar of Walford-on-Wye disapproves of the Welsh
+Church Disestablishment Bill, and refuses on that account to join in
+a protest against the torture and murder of his Armenian
+fellow-creatures. The logic of the Vicar is as convincing as his
+Christian sympathy is admirable. Let him be known henceforth as the
+Vicar of Reason Wye.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+What on earth is a "Rational Sick and Burial Association?" They
+possess one at Acton Turville; and, only the other day, it held great
+junketings. I may possibly have been rationally sick, but I have
+certainly never yet been rationally, or even irrationally, buried,
+nor, I take it, have the very vigorous members of the Association.
+However, they had a procession, which started from the club-room,
+headed by the Malmesbury band, and then walked to Badminton,
+calling at the Duke of BEAUFORT'S, where they were all treated with
+refreshments. Imagine his sporting Grace's feelings at being called
+upon to treat with refreshments a procession of the rationally sick
+and buried. They then dined. The _menu_ is not given, but no doubt
+included bread made from mummy-wheat, Dead-sea fruit, and copious
+libations of bier (spelling again!).
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Close to Bristol, too, there is a place rejoicing in the name of
+Fishponds, where, at the Full Moon Hotel, the Loyal Pride of Fishponds
+Lodge of the Bristol Equalised District of the Order of Druids meets
+for its various celebrations. The members sometimes "perambulate the
+village, headed by the band of the Mangotsfield detachment of the
+Bristol Rifles."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+  Now strike the clashing cymbals, and sound the big bassoon,
+  The Loyal Pride of Fishponds Lodge has left the old "Full Moon,"
+  Yet, though their band be warlike, they mean nor war nor pillage,
+  'Tis charity that bids them thus perambulate the village.
+  No member of the Order would dare to come too late
+  When Fishponds calls her Druids out to celebrate a _fête_.
+  Then, while with martial music, the left foot on the beat,
+  The Lodge awakes the echoes loud in every village street,
+  The villagers of Fishponds forsake their early bed,
+  And each one at his window displays a nightcapped head,
+  Salutes the hoary Druids, nor fails to greet with cheers,
+  The Mangotsfield detachment of Bristol Volunteers.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A Correspondent writes to the _Scotsman_, protesting against the
+omission of the grey plover from the list of birds to be protected
+under the Wild Birds Protection Act. "That the eggs," he adds, "are
+gathered by keepers and others for sale, should certainly be no
+argument; and any keeper might well be ashamed to watch a poor
+harmless bird all day through binoculars for the purpose of making a
+few shillings by the sale of its eggs." We live and learn. I have been
+eating plover's eggs for years without the least suspicion that
+the poor harmless mother-bird had been shamefully watched through
+binoculars by a keeper in search of shillings. All the same. I
+heartily indorse the suggestion that the plover should be protected.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+SIR DONALD CURRIE must have the eye of an eagle. Speaking at a
+luncheon held in Newcastle the other day in connection with the
+Trinity Presbyterian Church, he declared that "nothing had ever
+charmed him more than to observe at the luncheon that day the
+marvellous ability, but much more the marvellous unanimity and
+Christian fellowship manifested by the Nonconformist bodies." I doff
+my cap to the man who can infer not only marvellous unanimity and
+Christian fellowship, but also marvellous ability from his observation
+of bodies at luncheon. After this it must be the merest child's-play
+to navigate the _Tantallon Castle_ to the Baltic Canal.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At a recent meeting of the Blackrock Town Commissioners, so I gather
+from the _Freeman's Journal_, Dr. KOUGH, the Vice-Chairman, objected
+to the adoption of a petition in favour of the Intoxicating Liquors
+(Ireland) Bill. He said the petition had been carried by a side-wind.
+Obviously, in the Doctor's opinion, the only thing to be done was to
+Kough-drop it.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE ASCENT OF MAN.
+
+    ["Professor DRUMMOND'S 'Ascent of Man' was discussed in
+    the Assembly of the Free Church and very severely
+    handled."--_Daily Telegraph._]
+
+  What? Sprung frae an ape wi' a danglin' bit tailie?
+  Evolved by a process o' naiteral law?
+  What? Me, Sir? An Elder i' Kirk an' a Bailie?
+  That boast o' the bluid o' the Yellow Macaw?
+
+  Ye'd gar be takin' me graunfeyther's Bible
+  An' write doun "Gorilla" the sire o' us a'?
+  Na, na! 'Tisna me that's the traitor tae libel
+  The family tree o' the Yellow Macaw.
+
+  We gang straught awa' through the son o' ta PHAIRSHONS
+  Tae NOAH an' ADAM, and back to the Fa',
+  An' nane but respectable kirk-gangin' pairsons
+  Hae place i' the tree o' the Yellow Macaw.
+
+  Baboons?--Leave the Sassenach, o'er his Manilla,
+  Tae boast as he will o' his Puggie[*]-Papa!
+  But strike me teetotal if e'er a gorilla
+  Shall sit i' the tree o' the Yellow Macaw!
+
+    [Footnote *: _Anglice_, Monkey.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+LIGHT AND HEAT; OR, IN A CONCATENATION ACCORDINGLY.--Speaking of
+"the invisible parts of the solar spectrum," Dr. HUGGINS tells us the
+"ultra-red" has been traced to a distance nearly "ten times as long
+as the whole range of the visible or light-giving region of the
+spectrum." Nature, indeed, is "all of a piece." In politics, as in
+optics, the "Ultra-Red" lies beyond the "light-giving region," though,
+as Science says of its "gamut of invisible rays," they are perceived
+"by their heating effects." The S. D. F.'s and other wavers of the Red
+Flag, should study up-to-date optics.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"SIC ITUR AD ASTRA."--The Balloon Society has presented "W. G." with
+its gold medal. Therefore has he pardonable cause for inflation. It
+is to be hoped that this will not have the effect of making him hit
+"skyers." In spite of the aëronaut medal, may we never see "e'er a
+naught" tacked on to W. G.'s name.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: "BOUND FOR THE BALTIC SEA!"
+
+[Mr. GLADSTONE starts for a trip to the Baltic in the Donald Currie
+Ship _Tantallon Castle_, Wednesday, June 12.]]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: WHAT A CHARMING SURPRISE IT IS, TO A MAN WHO HAS LOOKED
+TO HIS BICYCLE FOR TWO HOURS' PEACE AND LIBERTY A DAY, TO COME DOWN ON
+HIS BIRTHDAY AND FIND THAT HIS WIFE AND HIS MOTHER-IN-LAW HAVE
+TAKEN LESSONS IN SECRET, AND WILL HENCEFORTH GO WITH HIM ALWAYS AND
+EVERYWHERE!]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+SUN AND SONG.
+
+_Saturday._--Have just been reading in _Temple Bar_ an article on the
+influence of sunshine on SHELLEY, BYRON, KEATS, MOORE, SOUTHEY, and
+other poets. Never thought of that before. There is so little sunshine
+in London, and when there is one never sits out in it. That is why
+all the magazines reject my sonnets, and why no one will publish my
+tragedy in blank verse. Sunshine! Right on the top of one's bare head.
+That is the cure. The reason is obvious--Ph[oe]bus Apollo, the Divine
+Afflatus, and all that sort of thing. Must go somewhere into the
+sunshine at once. Brighton is near, Brighton is shadeless, Brighton
+under the June sunshine is hot. The very place. Shall now at last
+electrify the world. Go down by an evening train. Somewhat crowded.
+Whitsuntide, of course.
+
+_Sunday._--Glorious morning. Blaze of sunshine. Brighton is not an
+inspiring place for a poet. Walk along asphalted parade. Extremely
+hot. But that is just what I want. Still SHELLEY and the others did
+not advocate softened asphalte, to which one's boots almost stick.
+The beach is the right place. Lie down on the dusty shingle above
+high water mark, take off my hat, and abandon myself to the Divine
+Afflatus. Wait patiently for inspiration. Can only think how hot it
+is. Wonder if the Divine Afflatus could get through my hat. Put on
+my hat. Still no inspiration. Take my hat off again. Begin to become
+insensible in the warmth. Suddenly feel on the back of my head a
+sensation as of something striking me. Can it be the inspiration? No,
+it was a pebble. Jump up. Boys behind, aimlessly throwing stones, have
+hit me. Sudden inspiration to rush after them with uplifted stick.
+Sudden flight of boys. Pursue them over uneven shingle. Wonder if
+SHELLEY and the others ever did that. At last stop, breathless, hotter
+than ever. Find, with difficulty, another unoccupied space on beach,
+and lie down again. Become quite drowsy. Suddenly wake up. Must have
+been asleep for a long time. Sun going down. No inspiration yet, and
+no chance of Divine Afflatus to-day. Must wait till to-morrow. Head
+aching very much. Wonder if SHELLEY and the others had headaches when
+the D. A. was coming on. Consult _Temple Bar_. Apparently not. Very
+strange.
+
+_Monday._--Again blazing sunshine. Hotter than ever. This must bring
+on the D. A. if anything would. Again lie on beach. More crowded than
+yesterday. Some of the people seem friendly, and to be interested in
+my experiment, for they address me and advise me to get my hair cut.
+Could this possibly be advantageous to admit the D. A.? No. SHELLEY
+and the others wore their hair like mine, not cropped like a
+convict's. Tell this to my new friends. They laugh. I become angry.
+Then they tell me to keep my hair on. Curious instance of the
+vacillation of popular opinion. They go away singing. Pain in my head
+and sleepiness still worse. Can no longer keep awake. Abandon myself
+to D. A. Am suddenly aroused by someone shaking my arm. Open my eyes.
+Can hardly see anything. Awful pain in head. Shut my eyes again. My
+arm again shaken roughly. A voice says, "Now then, get up." Endeavour
+to lift my head but cannot. Never felt so ill before. Murmur feebly,
+"I can't. It's the D. A. coming on." Voice answers, "D. T. yer mean.
+None o' your gammon. You come along o' me." Begin now to understand
+that it is not Ph[oe]bus Apollo who is standing by me in a vision.
+It is not even a beautiful woman, as in SHELLEY'S _Alastor_. It is
+a policeman. Must find precedent for this. Somehow my voice seems
+changed and uncertain, but I manage to murmur, "_Temple Bar_." "Oh
+yes," says the policeman, "you've been enough in the bar. Now yer can
+try the dock. Come along." He endeavours to raise me, but I again fall
+insensible.
+
+_Wednesday._--Remember dimly the horrible events of the last
+thirty-six hours. I was taken to the police-station, and brought
+before the magistrate. He would not even look at _Temple Bar_, and
+fined me for being drunk and incapable. I drunk and incapable! Oh
+heavens! To-day I am back in London. The sky is cloudy. No chance of
+the D. A. now. Shall give up poetry for ever, and for the future write
+words for songs.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+AT A YEOMANRY REVIEW.
+
+SCENE--_An open space near Baymouth, the watering-place at which the
+County Yeomanry have been going through their annual training. Along
+one side of the ground is a row of drags and other carriages,
+occupied by the local magnates; along another, the less distinguished
+spectators stand in a thin line or occasional groups, waiting for the
+review to begin. In the centre, the inspecting officer is judging the
+best turned-out troop, while the remainder of the regiment are doing
+nothing in particular._
+
+_Yeomanry Non-Com._ (_who is leading an officer's horse and talking to
+a female friend of his and her brother with the sense of conferring a
+distinction upon them_). Ah, 'tis not all play this yere trainin',
+I do assure ye. I've been so 'ard-worked all the week, with all the
+writin' I've had to do at the orderly room and thet, I've 'ardly 'ad
+time to _live!_ But I like it, mind ye, I like it more every year I
+come out and so does my old 'errse, a' b'lieve. And there's this about
+it too--the girls don't come errfter a feller!
+
+_The Young Lady._ Well, I'm sure! Now _I_ should have thought when
+you're in the Yeomanry, it was just what----
+
+_The Y. N.-C._ Tain't so--not in my case--that's all I can tell ye.
+
+_The Y. L._ (_with coquettish incredulity_). Oh, I daresay. With that
+uniform, too! Why, I expect, if the truth was told, you know more than
+one young lady who's glad enough to be seen about with you.
+
+_The Y. N.-C._ (_complacently_). More than one! Why, theer wurr eight
+I took out in a boat for a moonlight row on'y lawst night--nawn o'
+_my_ seekin', but they wouldn't take no denial. _I_ didn't want to
+be bothered with 'en. I've got other things to do besides squirin' a
+passel o' wimmin folk about, I hev.
+
+_The Y. L._ You conceited thing, you! If that's the way you go on, I
+shan't talk to you any more!
+
+_The Y. N.-C._ Well, you won't hev th' opportunity, for theer's the
+Captain calling me up. So long--and take care o' yerselves!
+
+    [_He trots off, feeling that he has sufficiently impressed
+    them_.
+
+_The Y. L._ (_to her brother, with the superiority that comes of a
+finishing school with all the extras_). Distinctly "country," isn't
+he?
+
+_Her Brother._ Well, he can't help _that_. And he rides as straight as
+any chap I know.
+
+_The Y. L._ Oh, he's a real good fellow, I know that; still he _is_
+just a little ---- I did hope I'd polished him up a little while we
+were at the farm last summer; but there, I suppose you _can't_ put
+refinement into some people!
+
+_Another Young Lady_ (_to her_ Admirer). I can't make GEORGE out yet
+among them all--can _you?_
+
+_Her Admirer_ (_and_ GEORGE'S _rival_). Cawn't say as I've tried,
+partickler. But there's one there in the rear rank that hes a look of
+him; that one settin' all humped up nohow on his 'errse.
+
+_The Adored One._ Oh, of course, if you're going to make out as GEORGE
+can't sit on a horse!
+
+_Her Admirer_ (_sulkily_). Well, I'd back myself to ride 'cross
+country agen GARGE any day.
+
+_The Adored One._ Then why don't _you_ join the Yeomanry, like _he_
+has?
+
+_Her Admirer_ (_who would if he could afford it_). Why? 'Cause 'taint
+worth my while, if you want to know!
+
+_The Adored One._ I'm sure it's a smart enough uniform--at least
+GEORGE looks quite 'andsome in it.
+
+_Her Admirer._ He didn't look very 'andsome when I see him on parade
+this marnin'; the sun had peeled his nose a treat!
+
+_The Adored One._ It's well there are _some_ who are willing to make
+sacrifices for their country!
+
+AMONG THE CARRIAGES.
+
+_Mrs. Prattleton._ Yes, so _sad_ for him, poor dear; but of course
+whenever his father dies, he'll be _quite_ comfortable. (_Recognising
+a military acquaintance._) Oh, Captain CLINKER, do come and tell me
+what they're supposed to be doing out there, and whether they've begun
+yet.
+
+_Capt. Clinker_ (_R.A._). Nothin' much goin' on at present. Ah, they
+seem to be wakin' up now a bit. (_As the band strikes up._) There's
+the general salute; now they're goin' to make a start.
+
+_Mrs. Pratt._ Who is that little man in the baggy black frock, rather
+like a dressing-gown, and the cocked hat; and why is he galloping out
+here?
+
+_Capt. C._ He's the inspectin' officer; takin' up his position for the
+march past, don't you know.
+
+_Mrs. Pratt_. Oh; and they're all going to march past _him_. How nice!
+But there's _another_ officer in a cocked hat; is _he_ inspecting,
+too?
+
+_Capt. C._ Only their tongues; he's the regimental Pill--the _doctor_,
+you know.
+
+_Mrs. Pratt._ (_disenchanted_). I quite thought he must be a general
+at _least_. Dear me, there's one man in a red coat and a helmet. What
+is _he_ doing here?
+
+_Capt. C._ That's the adjutant.
+
+_Mrs. Pratt_. Oh; and the adjutant always wears a helmet. I _see_.
+They've hung red silk round the kettledrums; (_pleased_) that's _real_
+soldiering, isn't it?
+
+_Officers_ (_as the regiment marches past by squadrons_). Right
+whe-eel! Eyes right! For-ward! Dress up to your leaders there!
+
+_Capt. C._ (_with languid approbation_). The dressin's not half bad.
+
+_Mrs. Pratt._ No, they're dressed very like Hussars--or is it
+Artillery I mean? I always had an idea the Yeomanry wore _comic_
+uniforms--with shirt-collars, you know, and old-fashioned milk-pail
+hats with feathers and things. But (_disappointedly_) there's nothing
+ridiculous about these. What a frisky animal that trumpeter is riding;
+look at him caracoling about!
+
+_Capt. C._ Trumpeters and serjeant-majors always the best mounted.
+
+_Mrs. Pratt._ Are they? I wonder why _that_ is. (_As the regiment
+ranks by in single file._) But they've _all_ got beautiful horses.
+
+_Capt. C._ (_critically_). H'm, they're a fair-lookin' lot. Fall off a
+bit behind, some of 'em.
+
+_Mrs. Pratt._ Do they? Then they can't be very good riders, _can_
+they?
+
+_Capt. C._ These fellows? They ought to be; most of 'em, you see, hunt
+their horses regularly.
+
+_Mrs. Pratt._ (_with a mental vision of dismounted troopers chasing
+their chargers about the ground_). What fun! I should like to see them
+do that. (_As the regiment trots past in sections._) But they don't
+seem to come off over the trotting.
+
+[Illustration: "'Twas onfortunate fur Garge, him bein' th' only man as
+fell arf."]
+
+_Capt. C._ Not quite; the leaders don't keep their distance, so the
+men can't keep up. Still, considering how short a time they've been
+out, you can't expect----
+
+_Mrs. Pratt._ No; and they haven't tried to _gallop_ yet, have they?
+Some of the horses are cantering now, though; it looks so much nicer
+than if they all trotted, _I_ think.
+
+_Capt. C._ Don't fancy their Colonel would agree with you there.
+
+_Mrs. Pratt._ What a shame to keep those poor soldiers out there all
+by themselves; they don't have any fun, and they only get in the way
+of the others when they turn round. Oh, look at them now--they're all
+coming straight at us, and waving their swords!
+
+_Capt. C._ Pursuin' practice at the gallop; doin' it rather decently,
+too.
+
+_Mrs. Pratt._ But _do_ you think we're safe just here? Suppose they
+can't stop themselves in time!
+
+_Capt. C._ No danger of that; too heavily bitted to get out of
+hand.... There, you see, they're all wheelin' round. That'll be the
+wind up. Yes, they're drawn up in line; officers called to the front.
+Now the inspecting officer is makin' a few remarks, butterin' 'em up
+all round, you know. It's all over.
+
+_Mrs. Pratt._ Really? It's been a great success, hasn't it? I enjoy
+a review so much better when they don't have any horrid firing. Don't
+you?
+
+    [Captain CLINKER _assents, to save trouble_.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+ON THE WAY HOME.
+
+_George's Rival_ (_reflectively_). 'Twas onfortnate fur GARGE, him
+bein' th' only man as fell arf, so 'twas.
+
+_The Adored One._ He didn't fall off--he only fell _out_. Didn't you
+hear him tellin' me the buckle of his stirrup broke?
+
+_George's Rival._ Buckle or nawn, he come arf; that's all I'm sayin'.
+An' showed his sense, too, by keepin' out o' th' rest on it. But GARGE
+was allays a keerful sart o' chap.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+SCRAPS FROM CHAPS.
+
+    ["At the Ludlow County Police Court, on May 27, Sir CHARLES
+    ROUSE BOUGHTON, Baronet, of Downton Hall, a Justice of
+    the Peace, applied for a protection order against Mr. JOHN
+    BADDELEY WOOD, of Henley Hall, a Justice of the Peace.
+    The parties had a dispute over a waterway, and on leaving
+    Middleton Church on Sunday, Mr. WOOD, it was alleged, used
+    coarse language to Sir CHARLES, and called him a liar three
+    times. Sir CHARLES said he was in bodily fear of Mr. WOOD,
+    and thought if sureties to keep the peace were applied for
+    he should be safer. The Bench granted the summons."--_The
+    Sheffield and Rotherham Independent._]
+
+  Sure, WOOD and BOUGHTON might full well
+  By closest ties be knit;
+  But water's caused them both to swell,
+  And brought about a split.
+  And now within their bosoms housed
+  Blind anger courses madly,
+  Sir CHARLES'S temper has been Roused,
+  And WOOD has lost his, Baddeley.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+MR. T. DOLLING BOLTON, M.P. for N.E. division of Derbyshire, has been
+explaining to his constituents at Eckington the reason for his voting
+against the Government on Mr. LLOYD-GEORGE'S amendment to the Welsh
+Church Bill. He was under no obligation to party leaders or party as a
+party. There was no subsidy by the party, no assistance given by party
+speakers, and he had to rely upon the electors alone. These elementary
+political principles endorsed by unanimous vote of continued
+confidence in esteemed member. Vote moved in eloquent speech by Mr.
+BODEN. No party assistance, no party voting, manly independence the
+thing for BODEN. Leaders say it ought to be a thing "verboten," and
+Mr. T. E. ELLIS filled with foreboding by latest revolt. BOLTON voting
+blue bad enough, but the enthusiastic approval of his constituency
+quite a bolt from the blue.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+TO A LADY-JOURNALIST.
+
+(_Written by Request._)
+
+[Illustration: Coming for an Interview.]
+
+  Great heav'ns! Here, where's my paper, pen, and ink!
+  How _is_ it all this while I have omitted you?
+  For _her_ I've rhymed, and Her, and HER; don't think,
+  I beg then, that I'll from my duty shrink,
+  A duty to a lady smart and witty due.
+
+  I'm really sorry for this painful lapse
+  Of etiquette--_'twas_ careless, now you mention it.
+  I thought--let's see, what _did_ I think?--perhaps
+  You'd hardly time to read poetic scraps;
+  Your leisure's precious, and I dared not trench on it!
+
+  Then ladies of the Press bar compliments
+  (At least _I_ seldom find they will permit any!),
+  So I'm impelled to write plain common sense,
+  As near as may be, and on no pretence
+  Aspire to high-flown ode or "lover's litany"!
+
+  But still you've _asked_ me, and I'd much regret
+  Not to oblige you promptly, if I know a way;
+  The more so, as you've just dropped in to get
+  A cup of tea and smoke a c-g-r-tte.
+  (By Jove, I hope I haven't giv'n the show away!)
+
+  Well, I've not _said_ much, but I've thought the more:
+  If I were fulsome in your praise, why, "Drat it!" you'd
+  Most probably remark, or "What a bore!"
+  So, therefore, please between the lines explore--
+  'Twas _you_ who bade me thus descend to platitude!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+'ARRY says he was "much interested in 'earing of a nartickle in the
+_St. James's Gazette_ last week, 'eaded _The 'Aunt of the Otter_. He
+'opes the writer will next give us _The Uncle of the Coolie_."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+OPERATIC NOTES.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+_Saturday._--Production of _Harold_. New Opera; music by COWEN, book
+by Sir E. MALET, British Representative man in service of Foreign
+Office, writing words for diplomatic, and words for musical notes.
+However good-tempered a composer may be, yet when he wants to write
+an opera he cannot get on without "having words." No time left to
+give full criticism on _Harold_, which achieved sufficient success to
+satisfy composer and librettist; it may be as well to state that there
+is nothing "old" in it, except in last syllable of name. Years
+ago favourite subject with artists was "the finding of the body of
+HAROLD." Sir EDWARD has found body; COWEN clothed it. ALBANI is its
+life and soul. Composer conducted. May probably be heard again this
+season; so no more at present.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.
+
+My Baronite, constitutionally credulous, on reading the earlier works
+of JOHN OLIVER HOBBES, accepted the masculinity of the author as put
+forward on the title page. On reading _The Gods, Some Mortals, and
+Lord Wickenham_ (HENRY & CO.), he begins to doubt. No man, not the
+weakest-minded amongst us, habitually uses italics in writing a book.
+Moreover, none but a woman could draw such a creature as _Mrs. Anne
+Warre_. The more generous masculine nature could not imagine anything
+so unrelievedly undesirable. Doubtless she is made so bad the more
+strikingly to compare with _Allegra_, "whose charm was the charm of
+springtime and love, all the kind promises of the sunshine, the life,
+the tenderness, the warmth, the graciousness of nature." The book, the
+most ambitious, and, in point of length, the most important, that has
+come from the pen of JOHN OLIVER HOBBES, is marked by her gift of
+keen observation, that sees everything and sees through most people.
+Dialogue and narrative sparkle with felicitous turns, bubble over with
+epigram. There are boundless possibilities in JOHN OLIVER HOBBES;
+but she should turn her face more persistently to the sunlight. _Dr.
+Warre_ and _Allegra_ are so good and so pleasant, that the average
+reader would like a little more of them, and a little less of the
+almost impossible _Mrs. Warre_.
+
+The proper study of mankind is man, and there could not be an apter
+tutor than Mr. SMALLEY. His _Studies of Men_ (MACMILLAN), have, as
+he tells us in a preface, appeared for the most part in the _New York
+Tribune_. Everyone conversant with newspaper work will know that for
+many years Mr. SMALLEY'S Letter from London to what, take it all in
+all, is the principal, certainly the weightiest, journal in the United
+States, has been its most prominent feature. A selection of these
+contributions have, happily, been rescued from the files of the
+newspaper, and are here presented. The Studies cover a wide range, but
+the subjects are all, in diverse fashion, interesting. One is struck
+with the extreme fairness of judgment displayed in dealing with
+men who stand so far apart as, for example, Mr. ARTHUR BALFOUR, Mr.
+PARNELL, Mr. SPURGEON, TENNYSON, Lord ROSEBERY, Sir WILLIAM HARCOURT,
+Mr. FROUDE, Mr. JOHN WALTER, and Lord RANDOLPH CHURCHILL. During his
+long residence in England Mr. SMALLEY has known these and others,
+personally and in their public aspect. He has stored a picture gallery
+in which posterity may see them as they lived, nothing extenuated nor
+anything set down in malice. By way of redressing afresh the balance
+between the Old World and the New, Mr. SMALLEY has turned his back on
+London, and, having all these years written about Europeans, for the
+edification of Transatlantic readers, is about to tell Europe, in
+the columns of the _Times_, something of the undercurrent of public
+affairs in the United States. He will find in himself a most damaging
+rival.
+
+  THE BARON DE B.-W.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A HOME-CURED TONGUE.--At a meeting of the "Gaelic League" in Dublin
+the other day, "the proceedings were conducted exclusively in Irish."
+Dr. DOUGLAS HYDE, the President, said that the movement was advancing
+in favour every day, and that, "if this regress continued, the future
+of the Irish language was assured." But how about the future of those
+who have to listen to it? He subsequently read a poem called "An
+Bhainrioghan Aluinn," and, after that had the hardihood to remark that
+"both young and old take a delight" in speaking the language. As
+_Mr. Pickwick_ would have said to _Dr. Peter Magnus Hyde_,--"It is
+calculated to cause them the highest gratification."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+MEM. BY AN UNLUCKY AMATEUR DABBLER IN THE CITY.--To go in for "Specs"
+is short-sighted policy.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: THE NEW WOMAN.
+
+"YOU'RE NOT LEAVING US, JACK? TEA WILL BE HERE DIRECTLY!"
+
+"OH, I'M GOING FOR A CUP OF TEA IN THE SERVANTS' HALL. I CAN'T GET ON
+WITHOUT FEMALE SOCIETY, YOU KNOW!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE SHAHZADA ON THE THAMES.
+
+"You will assist," quoth _Mr. Punch_ to TOBY, "in giving the SHAHZADA
+a cheery welcome on board the P. and O.'s _Caledonia_. And _these_,"
+continued _Mr. P._, handing TOBY a packet and a purse containing
+untold gold "are your secret instructions."
+
+"They shall be faithfully obeyed," replied the ever-faithful TOBY;
+adding, "_À bon_ SHAH, _bon hur-rah!_"
+
+* * *
+
+Day lovely; voyage perfect. Father Thames at his best. Sir THOMAS
+SUTHERLAND, M.P. and O., and all the goodly company, drank the
+SHAHZADA'S health most heartily. Then capital short speech from
+Right Honourable FOWLER about India. SHAHZADA satisfied with dinner,
+gratified by reception. On deck the SHAHZADA called TOBY aside.
+Interpreter intervened. "_Detnaw ton! Tuoteg!_" said the SHAHZADA,
+quietly, but authoritatively.
+
+The interpreter retired, muttering to himself "Bow-strings for one."
+"Look here," said the SHAHZADA to TOBY ... and they discussed affairs
+(TOBY acting as _Mr. P.'s_ representative) of such importance that
+they cannot be even hinted at in this or any other place. "And now,"
+said the SHAHZADA, still speaking in his native language, of which
+this is a translation, "is it not true that one of your national
+institutions at Greenwich is----"
+
+"The Fair?"
+
+"Bah!" laughed the SHAHZADA, "that has long since vanished; so have
+the Pensioners at the Hospital. But----"
+
+"There is still hospitality," murmured TOBY, salaaming his very best.
+
+"There is," returned the SHAHZADA, "and _you_ shall show it."
+
+"What can I do for you, your Royal Highness?" asked TOBY.
+
+The SHAHZADA drew him yet further apart from the envious crowd, and
+whispered in his ear.
+
+"Your Royal Highness," answered TOBY, "it shall be done. Command that
+the boat be stopped at Greenwich."
+
+So the boat was stopped at Greenwich, and the SHAHZADA, with TOBY,
+debarked. Great cheering.
+
+* * *
+
+8 P.M.--_Telegraphic Message from Toby to Mr. Punch, Fleet Street._
+
+_Cannot come to dinner. Shahzada and self enjoying tea and shrimps.
+All gone--except the shrimps. No money returned. Did it for
+one-and-ten, shall pocket difference. Shahzada says best entertainment
+ever had. See you later. Larks._
+
+  TOBY.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE WARS OF THE ROSES.
+
+(_A Sheffield Cricket Song, by a True "Tyke."_)
+
+    ["The fifty-fifth contest on the cricket field between the
+    rival counties of Yorkshire and Lancashire ended yesterday
+    (June 5) in a victory for the representatives of the Red
+    Rose by 145 runs, and the record now reads--Yorkshire won 23,
+    Lancashire won 23, and 9 drawn."--_The Leeds Mercury._]
+
+  Red rose and white! A pleasant summer sight,
+  As a Midsummer Dream may well imagine it!
+  How different far from the wild wordy fight
+  'Twixt furious SOMERSET and fierce PLANTAGANET!
+  Bramhall Lane Ground presents a peacefuller scene
+  Than that once witnessed in the Temple Garden.
+  Here's war of wickets, on a sward as green
+  And as unreddened as the glades of Arden.
+  WARD, not hot SUFFOLK, fights for the Red Rose,
+  JACKSON, not VERNON, battles for the White One.
+  True York _v._ Lancashire are still the foes,
+  Nor is the issue now at stake a slight one;
+  But whether JACKSON be twice bowled by MOLD,
+  Or twice PEEL give young ALBERT his _quietus_,
+  The battle is as friendly as 'tis bold.
+  PAUL, with his eighty-seven, helps defeat us,
+  But brave Lord HAWKE, our Captain, makes his pile,
+  And there is comfort in the score of WAINWRIGHT.
+  If SUGG and BAKER make the Red Rose smile,
+  HIRST his true "Yorkers" down the pitch will rain right.
+  Some holiday-makers seek the grassy down,
+  And some will bask by seashore, or on sunny cliff,
+  Give me to watch the fine straight bat of BROWN,
+  The bail of MILLIGAN, the catch of TUNNICLIFFE,
+  Dead level now are Lancashire and York,
+  The Red Rose and the White bear equal blossoms.
+  Now comes the tug of war! Now must we work,
+  Active as catamounts, and sly as 'possums.
+  But this we know--that at _our_ noble game,
+  With HAWKE the hearty, and with stout MCLAREN,
+  The White Rose shall not have to blush with shame,
+  Nor the Red Rose, through funk, blanch and grow barren!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+HIS NEW TITLE.--Dr. GRACE, C.B. ("Companion of the Bat").
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: "DEEDS-NOT WORDS!"
+
+JOHN BULL. "LOOK HERE,--WE'VE HAD ENOUGH OF YOUR PALAVER! ARE YOU
+GOING TO LET THE GIRL GO, OR HAVE WE GOT TO MAKE YOU?"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: _Ragged Urchin_ (_who has just picked up very short
+and dirty end of a Cigarette_). "HI, BILLY! LOOK 'ERE! SEE WHAT YOU'VE
+MISSED!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+'ARRY AND THE BATTERSEA PARK LADY CYCLISTS.
+
+  DEAR CHARLIE,--You know I'm a "biker."
+  I told yer a good bit ago
+  'Ow I learnt to cavort on the cycle; and now,
+  from Land's End to Soho,
+  There isn't a scorchinger Scorcher than
+  'ARRY, when fair on the spin.
+  Some _might_ do me for pace, but for style,
+  and for skylark, I'd jest about win.
+
+  LIL JOHNSON--you know little LIL with the
+  copper-wire fringe and rum lisp!
+  'Er as flower-mounts Clerkenwell way, an'
+  wos donah to young IKY CRISP!
+  She's blue sancho on learnin' to "bike," so I
+  took 'er to Battersea Park,
+  As I'd 'eard wos _the_ pitch for a spry lydy
+  cyclist as longed for a lark.
+
+  Larks, CHARLIE! It's spruce, and no
+  pickles! You know I fly cool without fidge,
+  But I wosn't prepared for the toppers as
+  treddle it nigh Chelsea Bridge.
+  No slow Surrey-siders, my pippin, but smart
+  bits o' frock from Mayfair;
+  It took _me_ aback for a jiff, tho' of course
+  I wos speedy all there.
+
+  "Lor, 'AWWEE!" lisped LIL, "thith _ith_
+  thplendid! But 'adn't _we_ better sthand by?
+  Thee 'ow thpiffing they thpinth, thoth sthwell
+  lydith! No,'AWWEE, I don't _like_ ter twy.
+  Fanthy me in my cotton pwint wobbling
+  among thuch A-wonnerth ath thoth!
+  Look at 'er in the kniekerth and gaiterth, and
+  thpot t'otherth Balbriggan hoth!"
+
+  Poor LIL! She's no clarss, not comparative.
+  Ain't got no savvy, yer see;
+  And carn't 'old 'er own among quolity, not
+  with a flyer like me.
+  Don't like to be done, _I_ don't CHARLIE; and
+  so I sez "Jest as yer like.
+  Ony, if _I_ meant biking, in Battersea, dash it
+  old girl, _I_ should _bike_!"
+
+  "Oh, 'AWWEE," sez she, "you're a 'ot 'un!
+  But let uth look on, dear, _thith_ go;
+  Yer thee I carn't balanth, or pedal. I don't
+  want ter myke _you_ no show."
+  "All right," I sez, 'orty an' airy. But _ontry
+  noo_, CHARLIE, old pal,
+  When I stocked up them beauties on bikes, I
+  wos most arf ashymed o' _my_ gal.
+
+  One young piece in grey knicks and cream
+  cloth, and a sort of soft tile called a _toke_,
+  Took my fancy perdigious, dear boy. I'd
+  ha' blued arf-a-bull to 'ave spoke,
+  But a stiff-bristled swell in a dog-cart 'ad got
+  a sharp eye upon _'er_;
+  And _I_ couldn't ha' done the perlite without
+  raising a bit of a stir.
+
+  If I could ha' got rid o' LIL, I'd ha' mounted
+  my wheel, and wired in,
+  Balloon-tyred smart safety, old man! _I_'d
+  ha' showed Miss GREY KNICKS 'ow to spin.
+  One tasty young thing wos in tears, 'cos the
+  bike she'd bespoke wosn't there,
+  I hoffered 'er mine, but the arnser I got wos
+  a freeze-me-stiff stare.
+
+  "Thtuck-up cat, my dear 'AWWEE!" sez LIL.
+  "Well," sez I, "she _may_ be a Princess,
+  As a lot o' them hexercise here. Lydy B.
+  and a young Marcherness
+  Do paternise Battersea Park on a bike;
+  leastways so I've bin told;
+  And the breakfusts and five-o'clock teas give
+  by dooks is a sight to behold."
+
+  "Garn, 'AWWEE," snigs LIL, "you're a
+  kiddin'. But, thithorth! it ith a rum thing.
+  To thee Batterthea Park, ath wath onth all
+  kid-cwicket and kith-in-the ring,
+  Now the pet-pitch of thwell lydy thyclists!"
+  "It shows yer," I sez, "'ow things move.
+  From hansoms and bus-tops to bikes! Oh,
+  the lydies _must_ keep on the shove.
+
+  "They borrow their barnies from _hus_, arter all,
+  LIL. Toffs want a new lark,
+  So they straddle the bike _ah lah_ Brixton, and
+  tumble to Battersea Park.
+  'Divideds' and 'Knickers,' my dysy, are
+  sniffed at out Hislington way,
+  But when countesses mount 'em at Chelsea,
+  they're trotty and puffeck O K!"
+
+  World shifts it, old man, that's a moral!
+  We'll soon 'ave some duchess, on wheels,
+  A-cuttin' all records, and showing young
+  ZIMMY a clean pair of 'eels.
+  Hadvanced Women? Jimminy-Whizz! With
+  the spars and the sails they now carry
+  They'll race us all round, pooty soon, and
+  romp in heasy winners! Yours,
+  'ARRY.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+RATHER A HANDFUL!
+
+There seems to be a feeling among lady writers that they also should
+have been remembered in the Birthday-honour distribution. That is
+all very well, but quite a new demand has been started by the _Cork
+Constitution_, which remarks,--
+
+    "It would not of course be regular to bestow a knighthood upon
+    a lady; but the rule in the case of Mrs. DISRAELI might be
+    observed, and a Baroness be conferred upon the author of _Lady
+    Audley's Secret_."
+
+What would MISS BRADDON do with a Baroness when she got her? Work her
+up into her next plot? Peeresses must be "cheap to-day," if they can
+be given away in this generous style.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+A LAMENT.
+
+(CHEAPSIDE, JUNE 6, 1895.)
+
+  Oh, princely guest from Afghan clime,
+  The poet's lot is hard! Ah!
+  When he would find the proper rhyme,
+  To balance with Shah-_zada_!
+
+  I see the guardsman ride erect,
+  The bugle sounds! Aha!
+  _My_ part should be, in verse correct,
+  To greet the Shahza-_da_!
+
+  Thy quantities have kill'd my song!
+  Despair! I'm off to Mada-
+  gascar, or anywhere! I long
+  To have it right. Shah-_z[)a]d[)a]?_
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+A FAIR Correspondent adds the letters "L. C. C." after her signature.
+She is _not_ a member of the London County Council, but of the "Lady
+Cyclists Club."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: PARLIAMENTARY INDIAN EXHIBITION.]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A KIND INQUIRY.
+
+DEAR MR. PUNCH,--A touching epitaph has lately come under my notice.
+It runs as follows:--
+
+"HIC JACET ANONYMA.
+
+  She dwelt among the untrodden ways,
+  Where yellow asters throve,
+  A maid whom there were few to praise
+  And fewer still to love.
+
+  She lived unknown, so none can know
+  The hour she ceased to be,
+  Enough to know she has, and oh!
+  Pray, all men, R. I. P."
+
+Is it possible that our old friend, the New Woman, that quite
+"impossible she," has left us for "another place"? It seems almost too
+good to be true.
+
+Yours unfeelingly,
+
+  A. MISONEOGYNIST.
+
+P.S.--You will observe that she died a spinster, of uncertain age.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A sportsman, not particularly literary, but very fond of theatricals,
+says that he hears there is a play going on called _Don Quickshot_.
+He thinks the first syllable may have been accidentally omitted, but
+feels certain that the _London Quickshot_ ought to make a hit.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Scoring for DR. GRACE.--"A Running Commentary."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: HOW THINGS WILL OUT.
+
+(_The Judge is not at home, and Brown, Q.C., asks permission to write
+him a Note._)
+
+_Mary Elizabeth Jane._ "WOULD YOU LIKE THIS BOOK, SIR? MASTER ALWAYS
+USES IT WHEN HE WRITES LETTERS!"
+
+    [_Heavens! it's an English Dictionary!_
+]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+TOWN AND GOWN.
+
+The _Standard_, giving its account of "Speeches," at Eton, on Fourth
+of June, said, "The speakers were attired in Court dress, the Oppidans
+wearing their black school gowns." Since when have Oppidans worn
+"gowns," black or otherwise? Those who used to wear gowns were the
+Collegers. Surely the custom, sanctioned by some centuries, has not
+been changed. The "Oppidans," or Town Boys, could not possibly be
+metamorphosed into Gown Boys--at least so writes to us
+
+  THE TUG OF WARRE.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+GOOD EVANS!--The _Daily Telegraph_ reported "The Heroism of a Lady."
+The act and deed was that of Miss EVANS, of Hythe, near Southampton,
+who, after rescuing a man and a woman from drowning, plunged in again,
+dived, and rescued a girl, who was sinking for the third and last
+time. The girl saved will ever gratefully remember Miss EVANS as the
+lady who "brought her up by hand," and in finishing her education she
+will not neglect the extra-accomplishment of swimming. Honour to Miss
+EVANS, who is a real female champion, not of the Salvation Army, but
+of a Nautical Salvage Corps!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A NOCTURNE IN NOODLEDOM.
+
+(_What the Heart of the Young Masher said to the Music-hall Singer._)
+
+(A LONG WAY AFTER LONGFELLOW.)
+
+AIR--"_The Day is Done._"
+
+  The day is done, and the darkness
+  Falls from the brow of night,
+  Like a crape-mask drifting downward
+  From a burglar in his flight.
+
+  I see the lights of "the village"
+  Gleam through the evening mist,
+  And a feeling of dryness comes o'er me,
+  And a tiddley I can't resist.
+
+  A feeling of blueness, and longing
+  For a spree, and another drain;
+  It resembles sorrow only
+  As gooseberry does champagne.
+
+  Come, tip me some snappy poem,
+  Some iky and rorty lay,
+  That shall banish this chippy feeling,
+  And drive dull care away.
+
+  Not from the slow old stodges,
+  Not from the smugs sublime,
+  Who hadn't a notion of patter,
+  And were slaves to tune and time:
+
+  For, like chunks of WAGNER'S music,
+  They worrying thoughts suggest,
+  Dull duty, and dry endeavour,
+  And to-night I long for rest.
+
+  Tip a stave from some Lion Comique,
+  Whose songs are snide and smart,
+  And who makes you roar, like ROBERTS,
+  Till tears from your optics start.
+
+  Who, without thought or labour,
+  And "on his own," with ease,
+  Can whack out the ripping chorus
+  Of music-hall melodies.
+
+  Such songs have power to quicken
+  The pulse that beats low with care;
+  And come like the "Benedictine"
+  That follows the bill-of-fare.
+
+  So pick from the cad, or the coster,
+  Some patter--slang for choice;
+  And lend to the rhymes of the Comique
+  The tones of a stentor voice.
+
+  And our feet shall thump tune to the music,
+  And the bills that I cannot pay
+  Shall be folded up, like my brolly,
+  And as carefully put away.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE GOOSE AND THE EAGLE.
+
+(_A Fable._)
+
+A Goose that had miss-spent a long life, and, in addition to being
+old and ugly, was of a sour, ill-natured disposition, in despair of
+rendering herself any longer agreeable to her male acquaintances,
+conceived the desperate design of emancipating her female friends.
+
+"It is intolerable," she declared to a large assemblage of the latter
+who flocked together directly the news of her design was noised
+abroad, "it is intolerable that, whilst all the good things of this
+life are reserved for the exclusive use and enjoyment of our male
+tyrants, we poor female creatures should be put off with feeble bodies
+and dowdy, unattractive plumage. I will go immediately to the King of
+Birds and demand the instant redress of these grievances under pain of
+my serious displeasure."
+
+Scarcely had the Goose received the thanks of her audience for this
+valiant speech, when an Eagle, which chanced to be soaring at that
+moment in the heavens above them, and was attracted by the clamour
+that reached him, dropped suddenly to the earth in order to discover
+the cause of it; to whom the Goose, so soon as she was sufficiently
+recovered of her fears, humbly addressed her complaint.
+
+"Foolish bird!" exclaimed the Eagle, when the Goose had made an end
+of her complainings, "know you not that what is fixed by Nature cannot
+possibly be altered by birds; and that if your sex have weaker bodies
+and a less attractive plumage than belong to us of the male gender, it
+is because Nature wills it so, and must be obeyed? Learn to be content
+with what you have, and cease envying those to whom Nature has been
+more prodigal of certain favours than she has been to you. Remember,
+also, foolish bird! that strength of mind is not the same thing with
+strength of body, and that though you may possess the one and pretend
+to despise the other, yet is Might the foundation of nearly all Right
+in the animal world, and must remain so because Nature will have it so
+and must be obeyed."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+SHAKSPEARIAN CHARACTERS AT MANCHESTER,--Last Friday H.R.H. the
+Prince of WALES'S horse _Florizel II._ took the cake, or, rather,
+the Manchester Cup. _Florizel II._ is now _Florizel I._ In this new
+illustration to a Summer's not _A Winter's Tale_, _Perdita_ should
+represent the race from the point of view of those who didn't win.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+ANOTHER TITLE!! SUPPLEMENTAL GAZETTE OF BIRTHDAY HONOURS.--DR. W. G.
+GRACE to be Cricket-Field-Marshal.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: "JUST LOOK AT MR. JONES OVER THERE, FLIRTING WITH THAT
+GIRL! I ALWAYS THOUGHT HE WAS A WOMAN-HATER?"
+
+"SO HE IS; BUT SHE'S NOT HERE TO-NIGHT!"]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"AS SIMPLE AS ITALIAN."
+
+(_A Dramatic Fragment from Drury Lane._)
+
+    SCENE--_The Auditorium of the National Theatre. Present the
+    customary throng. A performance on the stage is occupying the
+    spectators' wrapt attention. Newly-married couple in stalls
+    holding a discussion in undertones._
+
+_Angelina._ I am so glad, dear, you did not get a book of the words.
+It will be such a capital exercise for my Italian. I find that I can
+understand every word.
+
+_Edwin_ (_happy to have saved the expense of purchasing a translated
+libretto_). Quite so, dear. You can tell me what they are doing.
+
+_Ang._ Certainly, dear. Look, they are now having supper. You see, the
+heroine called for candles, and the waiter put them on the table. And
+now they are talking about things in general. And that is _Armande_.
+And don't you see _Marguerite_ is ill.
+
+_Edwin._ Yes; she is fainting in front of a window.
+
+_Ang._ Exactly. Italian is so easy--almost like English. She gives him
+a flower, and he goes away. He says adieu, and then the curtain falls.
+
+_Edwin_ Was that in Italian too?
+
+_Ang._ Don't be absurd. (_They discuss things in general, until the
+curtain rises on the Second Act._) Look, it is the same scene. You
+see, they are engaged. She is making love to him.
+
+_Edwin._ Is that why he is sitting in a chair with his back to the
+audience while _Marguerite_ strokes his hair?
+
+_Ang._ Yes. While she is stroking his hair she is saying how fond she
+is of him. And now he is telling her how fond he is of her.
+
+_Edwin_ (_after a quarter of an hour_). What are they saying?
+
+_Ang._ Oh, just the same thing over and over again. The Italian
+language is so beautiful. "Oh, _Armande_!" She calls him by his
+Christian name. She is so attached to him.
+
+_Edwin._ But what was the meaning of that?
+
+_Ang._ (_at the end of the Act_). Oh, don't you see, he said something
+that pleased her. Then she kissed him. Really, I had no idea how
+easy Italian was. Of course, one understands it from knowing French.
+(_Entr'acte passes as before, and curtain rises on Act Three._) Ah,
+here we are at Auteuil. Yes, and here comes _Marguerite_ with some
+flowers. Isn't it interesting?
+
+_Edwin._ Isn't this piece rather like the _Traviata_?
+
+_Ang._ I don't know. But I never saw the Opera. And there, that old
+gentleman has come to call upon _Marguerite_.
+
+_Edwin._ Why, of course, like the old chap with the baritone song. Now
+I begin to understand Italian myself.
+
+_Ang._ Do you, dear? Well, you see, he was going to be rude, and then
+they made it up, and she gave him a chair. And there, do you see?
+she leaves a letter for _Armande_. It is for him to read. And now she
+leaves him. And he is reading the letter.
+
+_Edwin._ And doesn't seem to like it. And there's the old chap
+(_without the song_), and he is consoling him.
+
+_Ang._ (_after a glance at her playbill_). Yes, because they are
+father and son. (_The Fourth Act passes, and she explains to her
+husband that Marguerite has been playing at cards, and that Armande is
+very angry with her._) That's why he throws money at her.
+
+_Edwin._ Rather a cad--_Armande_.
+
+_Ang._ Oh, no. You know we must not judge foreigners by an English
+standard. (_The last Act commences._) You see, she is very ill. That
+cradle covered with rugs is her bed.
+
+_Edwin._ Indeed!
+
+_Ang._ Yes. And that I suppose must be the doctor. I wonder what they
+are saying! This Act they all seem to be talking faster than they did
+in the others. That old woman was her friend. I wonder why she has
+left her like that!
+
+_Edwin._ Didn't she say something like "What a rum go?" It is the only
+line I have understood since the commencement of the performance. What
+is she saying now?
+
+_Ang._ (_hesitating_). Well, I am not quite sure. But you see she is
+very ill. She scarcely recognises _Armande_.
+
+_Edwin._ What is he saying? What has he done with his father?
+
+_Ang._ (_perplexed_). I can't quite follow this Act--they talk so
+fast.
+
+_Edwin._ And, I say, why on earth have these two turned up? A lady in
+complete bridal costume--wreath, veil, and all--and a chap in evening
+dress. What on earth have _they_ got to do with the story?
+
+_Ang._ Don't you think, dear, we had better get a book?
+
+_Edwin_ (_ignoring the suggestion_). There's the poor thing dead!
+
+_Ang._ Ah, I understood the last bit quite well. The Italian language
+is so much more expressive than our own, isn't it, dear?
+
+_Edwin._ Darling, it is!
+
+    [_Cigarettes, cabs, and Curtain_.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Note
+
+Sundry damages or missing punctuation has been repaired.
+
+Page 277: 'Christain' corrected to 'Christian'. "(says this truly
+Christian cleric)".
+
+Page 282: 'Plantaganet' retained: sometimes appears as an
+alternative spelling of 'Plantagenet'.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol.
+108, June 15th, 1895, by Various
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 42530 ***