Title: Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 104, April 1, 1893
Author: Various
Language: English
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VOL. 104, APRIL 1, 1893***


PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI

VOLUME 104

APRIL 1, 1893.

edited by Sir Francis Burnand



[Illustration: MODEL FIGURES IN THE CRITERION TOY-SHOP.]

       *       *       *       *       *

THE BUBBLE SHOP; OR, "ONLY HIS PLAY."

How many deserving persons besides dramatic authors are looking about
for good situations, and are unable to find them! Mr. 'ENRY HAUTHOR
JONES was sufficiently fortunate to obtain a good dramatic situation
of tried strength, which, placed in the centre of novel and most
improbable (not to say impossible) surroundings, has, in the hands of
Mr. CHARLES WYNDHAM and his highly trained company of illusionists,
achieved a remarkable success.

Within the last few years there have been notorious cases associated
with the names of Members of Parliament, but as the House is a
Legislative Assembly and not an inquisitorial tribunal instituted
for the public investigation of private morality, no charge could be
brought in the House itself against any one of its Members until after
a Court of Law had pronounced its verdict, and, even then, a Member
of Parliament, convicted of a criminal offence, would not cease _ipso
facto_ to belong to the House until after a motion for his expulsion
had been carried. As _Fritz_ in _La Grande Duchesse_ expressed his
wish to become a schoolmaster, in order that he might obtain some
smattering of education, so an immoral M.P. (if any such there be)
would be the very one to stand sponsor for a Bill for the Better
Preservation of Public Morals, with a view to gaining that elementary
knowledge of morality in which his education had been defective. But
no one could have brought up some awkward case against him in the
course of a debate in the House. In the parliamentary proceedings
of Little Peddlington this might be done, but not in the House of
Commons, which, by a very polite but necessary fiction, is supposed
to be a House of Uncommons, far above the weaknesses of the ordinary
human nature of mere Constituents.

_Mr. Stoach_ (capitally played by Mr. J. VALENTINE--but everybody
plays capitally in this piece) finds _Lord Clivebrooke_ (Mr. CHARLES
WYNDHAM--admirable also) between midnight and one in the morning alone
with charming _Jessie Keber_ (Miss MARY MOORE,--delightful!) in old
_Matthew Keber's_ toy-shop, _Keber_ himself (another very clever
impersonation by Mr. W. H. DAY) having gone out on the sly to get
drunk on money supplied him by the aforesaid unscrupulous _Stoach,
M.P._ So what would have to be said in the House should amount to
this:--

_Stoach._ What! the Leader of the House bring in this Purity Bill!!
Why I saw him myself with my own eyes in a toy-shop, all among the
toys, alone at one in the morning with an attractive young person of
the female persuasion.

"Look at that now," says an Irish M.P., following the example of
_Shaun the Post_ in _The Colleen Bawn_, when the scoundrelly lawyer
brings a charge against the hero of the drama, "An' what might _you_
be doin' about there at that same time?"

Supposing, for an instant, the impossible, _Stoach_ would be called to
order, and be severely reprimanded by the SPEAKER.

Had the much-heckled and long-suffering _Clivebrooke_ been gifted by
the Author with lively ready-wit, he would have replied to his
father and supporters, who invade his room, in the pleasantest and
Charliest-Wyndhamest manner, "Yes (_lightly and airily_). What could I
be doing in a toy-shop with a young lady? Why (_still more lightly
and airily_) of course I was '_toying with her!_'" Whereupon his old
father would have been immensely tickled, and the deputation, in fits
of laughter, would have rushed back to the lobby to report "the last
good thing said by that clever chap _Clivebrooke!_ So like him!"

This Act would have ended with the triumph of ready-wit over
disappointed malignity. _Jessie Keber_ would have run in and embraced
her hero, the Bill would have been carried (_Cheers heard without_),
and all would have ended happily and pleasantly without any necessity
having arisen for another Act, either of Parliament or of the piece.

"Yes," says this dramatist, "I admit the soft impeachment. I plead
guilty, with extenuating circumstances. _The play's the thing_; and if
the facts don't suit my play, so much the worse for the facts. Success
has been achieved, and what more can any living author want? Credit
and cash. _Voilà tout!_ 'Credit' for my own original invention in
hitting upon the Parliamentary accessories to my picture; and 'cash,'
which will be paid as long as the public take an interest _in_ the
play, and just so long shall I take my interest _out_ of the public
money."

To sum up in the words of the old-fashioned tag, "If our friends in
front are pleased, then Manager and Author are satisfied." But, if
objection be still taken to the unreality of the Parliamentary setting
of the picture, then "please remember," apologises 'ENRY HAUTHOR,
"that '_it's only my play_.'"

       *       *       *       *       *

A Liberator Lay.

  Three little roguey-boys said to Conscience--"Pooh!"
  Croydon made one its Mayor, and then there were two.

  Two little roguey-boys thought that Fraud was fun;
  A Judge thought otherwise, and then there was one.

  One little roguey-boy took the Chiltern Hun-
  dreds upon his road to Spain, and then there was none!

       *       *       *       *       *

WALKING ROUND HIS SUBJECT.--In TAY PAY'S interesting review of _The
Life of Lord Aberdeen_, a Book of the Week in the _Sun_, there is a
delightful chord which shows that "the harp that once thro' Tara's
halls" still upon occasion twangs. "It is pleasant," says TAY PAY,
writing of Mr. GLADSTONE, "to be able to project ourselves backward to
the time, when the statesman we know as full of years and the idol of
millions, was the bashful, self-distrustful youth." Now, if next week
our young friend, whose sympathy with bashful, self-distrustful youth,
is instinctive, will manage to withdraw himself forward, he may be
said to have thoroughly reconnoitered his subject, an excellent thing
in a reviewer.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: THE VILLAGE BEAUTY AND THE RIVAL SWAINS, F-WL-R AND
G-SCH-N.]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: ASSISTED EDUCATION.

_Christabel._ "I SAY, JACK, HOW EVER DO YOU DEFINE THE EQUATOR?"

_Jack_ (_who has been to the Circus_). "ISN'T IT A MENAGERIE LION THAT
GOES ROUND THE WORLD?"

[_Jack has learnt about "the Imaginary Line," and got the answer a
little mixed._]]

       *       *       *       *       *

THE VILLAGE BEAUTY AND THE RIVAL SWAINS.

_An Easter Eclogue._

  _Chloe_               Miss HODGE
  _Corydon_             H. H. F-WL-R
  _Strephon_            J. G. G-SCH-N.

  _Corydon_ (_smirking_). I have found out a gift for _my_ fair,
    Such as sugary SHENSTONE ne'er found!
  _Strephon_ (_aside, sniffing_). His bowpot's made up, I declare,
    Half of flowers he's filched from _my_ ground!
  _Chloe_ (_pirouetting_). Oh la! What a lovely bokay!
    That for _me!_ Oh, you're awfully kyind!
  _Corydon_ (_ogling_). Ah! I've loved you this many a day!
  _Strephon_ (_sighing_). And for years you've been first in my mind!
    _Chloe_ (_aside_). My! Isn't it nice to be courted like this?
  I believe I could buy 'em both up with a kiss!

  _Corydon_ (_gloating_). Love, you dance just as PERDITA danced!
    You must be a Princess in disguise.
  _Strephon_ (_aside_). And not long since he swore that she pranced
    Likes a clown who contends for a prize.
  _Chloe_ (_bridling_). _Me_ a Princess? Oh la! that's your fun.
    You know that my feyther was HODGE!
  _Strephon_ (_aside_). Of course; but, providing she's won,
    He'll descend to the paltriest dodge.
  _Corydon_ (_effusively_).
    You're the Pride of the Village, and fashioned to rule
  In the Cottage, the Council, the Church, and the School!

  _Chloe_ (_coyly_). You're a flattering of me, young man!
    _Corydon_ (_ardently_). If I am, maay I forfeit your--Vote!
  _Chloe._ Well, of course, I will do what I can,
    As the Parish-princess, to promote
  The--what is it you want me to do?
      Yes, the Poor--and the Ditches--and Drains,
    The Rates--I do hope _they_'ll be few!
      The Allotments--I trust they'll be gains!
    But the Squire and the Parson? Oh! CORYDON mine,
  When _they_ hear what you've done, _won't_ they kick up a shine?

  _Corydon_ (_brusquely_). Oh! the Squire and the Parson be--blowed!
    All too long they've been cocks o' the walk.
  _Strephon_ (_eagerly_). Quite right! How this buzzum has glowed
    Your twin tyrants to baffle and baulk!
  _Corydon_ (_contemptuously_). You've dissembled your--hate for them well,
      Master STREPHON! It never leaked out
    Till _we_ made PATIENT GRIZZEL a _belle!_
      _Now_ you'd like to cut in, I've no doubt.
  _Chloe_ (_coquettishly_). La sakes! do not quarrel!
      You're both very kyind,
  But--I fancy dear CORYDON'S most to my mind.

  [_Beams on him, and accepts the Bouquet._

  _Strephon_ (_suppressing himself_). Well, well, 'tis the fortune of war!
    As it's holiday season, let's sing,
  Should Shepherds at Eastertide jar?
    Suave SHENSTONE would scout such a thing.
  I wish you and CORYDON luck--
    The posy he's plucked you looks fine;
  Though I must say my fancy it struck,
    It was not wholly new--in design.
  However, dear CHLOE, you're sweet; 'tis fair weather;
  So, CORYDON, let's sing her praises--together--

  _They sing_:--

  Her charms--since she possessed the Vote--
  Are things on which the swains all dote.
    Fearing to flout or slight.
  She dances, having now her way,
  No bygone Easter holiday
    E'er saw so fine a sight!

  Our village _Belle_ with _anyone_
  Dares now to make comparison.
    Fair nymph, this Easter fun done,
  With proudest County Toast, though fair,
  You may compete or charms compare
    With the haughtiest "Pride of London!"

       *       *       *       *       *

ASTOUNDING REPORT.--There is no foundation whatever for the report
of the resignation of Lord HERSCHELL. It probably arose from some
incautious and slangy person speaking of him in his office of LORD
CHANCELLOR as having "got the sack." Obviously the Wool-sack was
intended.

       *       *       *       *       *

A GENUINE PHILANTHROPIST.

  O PASSMORE EDWARDS, you, beyond contention,
  Are worthy _Punch's_ "Honourable Mention."
  Whenever there be any boons a-brewing
  You're very sure, Sir, to be up and doing!
  There's scarce a project schemed with kindly sense,
  But profits by your large munificence.
  _Punch_ won't forget to pray when passing bedwards,
  For you--and for more bricks like PASSMORE EDWARDS!

       *       *       *       *       *

ON THE SECOND READING OF THE HOME-RULE BILL.

(_By a Rebellious Rad._)

  BUTCHERED--to make an Easter Holiday,
  For Orangemen who yearn to have their say!
  They've got political _delirium tremens_.
  _Orange?_ Nay, they're sour as unripe lemons!

       *       *       *       *       *

THE REAL "SPIRITUAL" (OR SHALL WE SAY SPIRITUOUS?) NEEDS OF
LONDON.--Strict Supervision of Gin Palaces, and a rigid enforcement of
the Adulteration Acts. (_Licensing Authorities, Excise Officers, and
Policemen, please take Notice!_)

       *       *       *       *       *

A TIP IN TIME.

  Country Vestrydom's called, by its new-fangled rival,
  (The smart "Parish Council") "decrepit survival."
  P. C., be not hard on the old form thou twittest!
  Thou yet hast to prove _thy_ "Survival" the "fittest."

       *       *       *       *       *

AT THE CONFECTIONER'S.

(_A Sketch on Saturday Afternoon._)

SCENE.--_A Confectioner's Shop in a fashionable West-End thoroughfare.
Close to the window is a counter, with the usual urns and
appurtenances, laden with an assortment of richly decorated pastry,
and presided over by an alert and short-tempered_ Manageress. _The
little tables are close together, and crowded with_ Customers, _the
majority of whom are ladies. A couple of over-worked_ Waitresses _are
endeavouring, with but indifferent success, to satisfy everybody at
once._

_Cries from Customers._ Yes, two teas and _one_ roll and butter--no, I
mean, one roll and butter and _two_ teas! "_Have I ordered?_" Why, the
last time you said it was coming directly! Isn't that chocolate ready
_yet?_ We shall _never_ catch our train! I say, Waitress, I ordered
coffee and cakes a quarter of an hour ago, and all we've got yet is
two empty cups and a bowl of sugar! _Do_ make haste with that tea!
I didn't say a _cup_ of tea--I said a _pot_ of tea, as plain as----!
(&c., &c.)

_Duet of Waitresses._ Yes, Sir, attend to you in one moment. Are
_you_ the cup of tea, Madam? Oh, I'll bring you a fork for your pastry
directly. There'll be some milk coming in a minute, Sir. Bread and
butter? No, Sir, you can have a _roll_ and butter, or cakes, if you
prefer them. Excuse me, Madam, when I've done attending to _this_
lady. No, Sir; it was the other young lady who took your order--not
me. _Would_ you mind letting me have the milk-jug, if you've finished
with it, Madam? We're rather short of them. I'll _see_ if I can get
you a teaspoon, Sir. (&c., &c.)

_The Manageress_ (_all in one breath, without any stops_). Now then
Miss SIMPSON don't you see these cups standing here ready to be taken
and there's that Gentleman in the corner waiting to be attended to and
tell Mrs. BINKS we shall want more milk and there put out those
fancy cakes do two chocolates Miss JONES well you can't have them
yet because I've used all the hot water what does the girl want next
butter it's no use coming _to me_ for butter here take those cups to
be washed up will you you leave me to look after everythink myself and
customers leaving because they can't get served I declare I never saw
such girls as you are in all my born days!

_A Man from the Lyceum._ I'm not sure, after all, that IRVING'S finest
moment wasn't in that last scene. I mean, when _Fitzurse_ and those
fellows came in, and he----

_First Lady_ (_at adjoining table--from the Aquarium Theatre_). Sat up
on his _dear_ tail, and struck out with those long hind legs of his,
_sweet_ thing; he took such an _interest_ in it all, didn't he?

_Second Lady_ (_on opposite side of table--who has been to
"Hypatia"_). Oh, and didn't she look _distractingly_ lovely just after
she had finished lecturing; _you_ know, when she----

_Third L._ (_close by, fresh from "Charley's Aunt"_). Stepped out of
the gown, and walked about in the old Lady's cap and false front! I
quite _cried_ with laughing!

_Second L._ I liked the Proconsul--dear me, what _was_ his name?
So _stupid_ of me--but it doesn't matter! I thought he looked so
perfectly Byzantine when he came in with his lictors in the litter----

_Third L._ And played the piano so _beautifully!_

_Second Hypatian L._ And didn't you think TREE was very good?--that
part where he found out about his daughter, and stood towering over
her with a knife in his hand, and----

_Third L._ That enormous cigar stuck in his mouth--he was simply too
_killing!_ [_And so on._

_Miss Camille Leon_ (_by voiceless motion of her lips, and expressive
pantomime, for the guidance of her fiancé_, Mr. FRED FORRIDGE, _who
has gone to the counter to select dainties for her refection_). No,
not _those_--in the _next_ dish--with chocolate outside ... no the
_long_ ones--_oh_, how stupid you are! Yes, if those are preserved
cherries on the iced sugar. Very well, the _pink_ one, then--that will
do.

_Mr. Forridge_ (_returning with a loaded plate_). I hope I've got what
you wanted?

_Miss C. L._ _Just_ what I like--_how_ clever of you! (_She helps
herself, after dainty deliberation._) Quite delicious! Aren't you
going to have any yourself?

_Mr. Forr._ (_engaged in exploring his left-hand pocket
surreptitiously, with a troubled expression_). Oh, thanks--presently,
perhaps. (_To himself._) I must have more than that _somewhere!_

[Illustration: "I must have more than that _somewhere!_"]

_Miss C. L._ (_gaily_). I advise you to make haste--or there'll be
none left. They're too seductive for words. [_She chooses another._

_Mr. Forr._ (_to himself_). It _is_ one-and-sixpence. Fool I was to
go and forget my sovereign-purse! However--(_hopefully_), two
cups of tea at fourpence--eightpence; say three cakes at
twopence--one-and-twopence--oh, I shall manage it easily, and leave a
margin! (_Aloud._) I think I won't have anything to eat--not _hungry_,
don't you know.

_Miss C. L._ No more am _I!_ (_She takes a third cake._) This has got
cream inside--aren't you tempted?

_Mr. Forr._ (_to himself._) Only fourpence to the good now--mustn't
risk it! (_Aloud._) Couldn't indeed--spoil my appetite for dinner.

_Miss C. L._ (_with superiority_). Oh, I never _have_ any appetite
for dinner. I loathe the very sight of food, somehow! But I do _wish_
you'd eat something--it's so _piggish_ of you not to--_really_ it is!
You must take just this weeny little one--to please Me! (_She places
it on his plate._) Now you _can't_ say no!

_Mr. Forr._ (_to himself_). She is the _dearest_ darling! (_Aloud._)
I'd do anything in the world to please you, CAMILLE! (_To himself._)
After all, there's still _twopence!_

_Miss C. L._ Good boy! (_As he eats._) Well, is it a success?

_Mr. Forr._ (_munching_). It isn't bad--got Marchpane, or something of
the kind on it.

_Miss C. L._ How nice! I adore Marchpane! You may go and get me one
just like it, if you're _very_ good.

_Mr. Forr._ (_to himself, as he obeys her behest_). That cleans me
out! Thank goodness, no gratuities are allowed here, or else--and this
_must_ be the last--she's had three already! If I'd only had another
sixpence, I shouldn't care, but this is running it devilish close!
(_Aloud, as he returns._) This is the nearest I could get.

_Miss C. L._ Thanks, ever so much. Awfully nice tea this is.
(_Suggestively._) They might give one bigger cups, though!

_Mr. Forr._ (_to himself, with pathos_). I'd give my life for her,
cheerfully--and I've got to deny her a second cup of tea! But hang
it, I _must_. I can't ask her to lend me fourpence to pay the bill!
(_Aloud._) It's--er--just as well they don't. My sisters have
sworn off afternoon tea altogether; some medical Johnny told them
it--er--had a tendency to make the nose red!

_Miss C. L._ (_to herself_). FRED'S _sisters!_ Very likely! (_Aloud,
coldly._) If you think there is any danger of that in _my_ case, of
course I won't risk another cup.

_Mr. Forr._ Oh--er--well, you never _know_, don't you know.
I--er--_wouldn't_. (_To himself._) Narrow shave that, by Jove!

_Miss C. L._ I think we'd better take a cab back, don't you?

_Mr. Forr._ (_horrified_). M--much jollier walking. Streets as dry as
a bone!

_Miss C. L._ But I want to get home and arrange the table for dinner
to-night. Mother always likes me to do the flowers.

_Mr. Forr._ Lots of time for that You c--can't judge of the effect
till it's dark, _can_ you? And it will be light for hours to come.

_Miss C. L._ Yes, that's true. Then suppose we go and see the
BURNE-JONESES, now we're so near? They don't close till six.

_Mr. Forr._ (_to himself_). It _would_ have been jolly; but,
half-a-crown, when I can't even run to a _catalogue!_ No! (_Aloud._)
It--it's getting so dark--can't do 'em justice by artificial light, do
you think? And--well, to tell you the honest truth, CAMILLE, after the
Old Masters, you know--I--I don't feel--and I _have_ seen them, you
know!

_Miss C. L._ (_pouting_). I thought you might have cared to see them
again--with Me--but it doesn't in the least matter ... FRED, I don't
care about this cake you got me--it's dull. I think I shall leave it,
and try one of these white-and-green ones instead. [_She does._

_Mr. Forr._ (_to himself--with a beaded brow_). Broke! And for an
extra twopence! As likely as not, she hasn't even got her purse with
her. And she'll think I'm so beastly mean! Why on earth didn't I let
her go to the Aërated Bread-shop, as she wanted? It would have been
all right then!

_Miss C. L._ I'm afraid you're rather bored, FRED--you don't seem to
be enjoying yourself quite; _do_ you?

_Mr. Forr._ (_in agony_). Oh, I _am_--I'm all right, CAMILLE, only
I--I'm always like this after the Old Masters, you know.

_Miss C. L._ So sorry I made you bring me--don't you think we had
better pay, and go home?

_Mr. Forr._ (_to himself_). Now for it! (_He pulls himself together._)
W--waitress, w--what have I to pay, please?

_Waitress._ Two teas, eightpence; one, two--_six_ cakes you've had, I
think, Sir? One-and-eightpence altogether.

_Mr. Forr._ (_with a gasp_). Oh! (_He fetches up two coins abjectly
from his pocket_). I--I'm sorry to say that I--I've o--only one
shilling and (_with a start of intense relief_) half-a-sovereign,
so (_with recovered dignity_) I'm afraid I must ask you to give
me change. (_To_ Miss C. L.) I--I was only joking about the
BURNE-JONESES, darling, I'd like to see them _awfully_--with you. And
we can walk home through the Park, or take a cab afterwards, just as
_you_ feel about it. _Do_ say you'll come!

[Miss LEON _graciously consents, and_ Mr. FORRIDGE _follows her out of
the shop with restored equanimity, as Scene closes in._

       *       *       *       *       *

FASHIONABLE INTELLIGENCE.--The Dowager Lady CRUMBIE dined out one
night last week, when the dinner was so cold that her Ladyship caught
a severe chill, and next day the Cook caught it uncommonly hot.

       *       *       *       *       *

ADVICE GRATIS.--M. WORTH, of Paris, says of the costumes of The
No-Connection "BRADLEY & CO," "You must take them for what they
are----WORTH."

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: A BROTHERLY LECTURE.

"WHAT! _ANOTHER_ SCRAPE! WHAT AN ASS YOU MUST BE, ALWAYS GETTING INTO
SCRAPES WITH WOMEN! WHY _DO_ YOU? _I_ NEVER GET INTO SCRAPES WITH
WOMEN! NEVER GOT INTO A SCRAPE WITH A WOMAN IN MY LIFE!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

ROBERT AT THE BOAT-RACE.

Well, as I've often said afore, and shall most probberly live to say
it again, there ain't no acounting for taste, speshally among the
hupper classes. Take last Wensday as a xampel. Here's a lot of about
twenty of the most heminent Swells in our most heminent Huniwersitys,
where they goes, as we all on us knows, to learn how to tork Greek,
which they finds so wunderful useful when they growes up. Well, they
has the hole year to choose from, save and xcept Sundays, and I'm
jiggered, as I herd a real Gent say, if they don't go and select a day
as goes and begins with a hawful heasterly wind, and a contemptible
shower of rain, just enuff to make thowsands of our most loveliest
Ladys at wunce risolve not to wenter out ewen to see such a site
as two boats full of hansum young gennelmen, all drestin flannel, a
pulling of them two boats a matter of four miles! And yet I'm told as
there's a learned Gent as publishes a little book as tells you what
the whether will be ewery day in the year, and he's werry offen rite.

However, it all turned out rite at larst, and we had a nice sunny day,
tho' why they kep us all a waiting till arf-past fore o'clock I'm sure
I don't kno, when there was thowsends of us waiting afore two. Another
little misstery is, why they want no less than hayteen strong-looking
gents to pull too little Botes along, sixteen on 'em a pulling with
their skulls, and two on 'em a pulling with too little ropes apeace, I
have never bin able to make out.

I was told as it was a lovely race, tho it seemed werry much as usual
to me. One of the botes got a little in front of the other, and so got
in fust, and that was all. But, sumhow, I don't quite think as that
is all as so many thowsands goes out for. For instance, now, in the
butiful ship as I was perfeshnally engaged in, we laid out a lovely
lunshun with evry luckshury of the season, and all kinds of wine, at
about 2 o'clock, and then, as we picked up our swell passengers at
the warious peers, our Managing Gent says to them, says he, "If you
please, Gents, lunch is laid out in the cabin, and will be continually
laid out all day, so you can act accordin." And so they did! and that
cabin was jest about comfertably occepied all day long, except for
about ten minutes jest as the Botes was a cummin by. Ah! that's my
highdeal of spending an appy day, and a pitty it is as it ony comes
wunce a year!

BROWN, who was along with me, tried werry Hard to gammon me to bleeve
as none of the pullers in the fust boat got nothink for winning, and
that none of the pullers in the larst boat paid nothink for loosing!
But I wasn't quite such a born fool as to beleeve that rubbish. I
had jest the same good larf as usual in seeing how hard the three big
steam-boats, as started jest after the racing-boats, tried their werry
hardest to catch 'em up, but coudn't do it till they was past the
winning post! And the best of the fun was, as they painted two of 'em
Oxford and Cambridge, to make all poor greenhorns beleeve as they was
the reel racing-boats, and the other was a going fust jest to show
'em the way. Lor, how heasy it is to gammon sum poor fellers! Like all
trew waiters, hating any think at all like waste, me and BROWN, and
the other two of us, seed all our Company hoff, and then we quietly
took our seats, and I bleeves as I can truly say, that, neether in the
eatable line, or the drinkable line, was there any waste in that there
bootiful Steamer that there appy day.

ROBERT.

       *       *       *       *       *

FROM MR. J. L. T**LE.--It is not true that _Die Walküre_, about to be
produced at the Grand Opera, in Paris, is either an adaptation, or a
translation, of _Walker--London_. It's WAGNER, not WALKER.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: THE WAY TO GET ON.

_Fair Amateur Palmist (who has kissed the Blarney Stone)._ "I'M SORRY
TO SAY, DEAR LADY CROESUS, THAT YOU WILL HAVE A SERIOUS ILLNESS AT
FORTY!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

A DELICATE QUESTION.

[In the pages of the _Author_ Mr. BESANT suggests, that "the Society
of Authors should undertake the examination of journalists."]

  O zealous Mr. BESANT, we have heard with consternation
    Of this, the latest project of your ever-busy band;
  Each journalist, apparently, must pass examination,
    Lest any deal with matters which he does not understand.

  You're horrified to notice at performances dramatic
    A row of so-called critics, knowing nothing of the play;
  You mean to make essential an acquaintance with the Attic,
    In all allowed to comment on the drama of to-day.

  With ample stock of history and other knowledge, clearly,
    The man who writes on politics must show himself supplied,
  The taste of all reviewers will be criticised severely,
    The Sporting Sage must qualify in papers on _Ruff's Guide_.

  No doubt your plan is laudable, but then we find it printed
    That novelists to manage all the scheme will be allowed,
  And since they love reviewers not, it may, perhaps, be hinted,
    That every man alive of us is certain to be ploughed!

  Moreover, on reflection, quite excusably one fancies
    That, if so great advantage in the system you discern,
  Its use should be extended to the weavers of romances,
    And you and other novelists should suffer in your turn!

  And so, if we may venture on a practical suggestion,
    Assuming that your postulate's indubitably true,
  And all should be examined--there must yet remain the question,
    _Custodes quis custodiet?_--For who'll examine _you?_

       *       *       *       *       *

WINES OR MINES?--Mrs. R. has on several occasions heard gentlemen
talking of "passing the Rubicon," and she wants to know whether this
is a Bill in Parliament about the Ruby Mines, or whether it is a
modern expression for what was many years ago, as she was informed by
her grandfather, a slang after-dinner phrase--"Pass the Ruby," _i.e._,
the wine?

       *       *       *       *       *

HOLIDAY TASKS FOR THE RECESS.

_The Pr-m-r._ To rest and sample (under the personal supervision of
Mrs. G.) Home Rule.

_The Marquis of S-l-sb-ry._ To forget the speeches he had prepared for
Loyal Ulster.

_Sir W-ll-m H-rc-rt._ To practise Local Option in the New Forest.

_Lord R-s-b-ry._ To make up his mind about Uganda.

_Lord R-nd-lph Ch-rch-ll._ To follow where he once led.

_Mr. Arth-r B-lf-r._ To lead where he once followed.

_The Duke of D-v-nsh-re._ To acquire a taste for "another place."

_Sir A-g-st-s Dr-l-n-s._ To grapple with the Opera difficulty.

_Mr. H-nry Irv-ng._ To run along with _Becket._

_Miss Ell-n T-rry._ To continue the same movement.

_Mr. J. L. T-le._ To prepare to take _Walker--London_ to "Castle,
Windsor."

       *       *       *       *       *

LEGAL QUERY ANSWERED SATISFACTORILY.--In an Article on the Lecture
on Cross-examination by Mr. FRANK LOCKWOOD, Q.C., a _D. T._ Leader
reminded its readers of the scene in _The Village Lawyer_, where
Defendant is instructed by his Counsel to answer every question by
simply saying, in an imbecile manner, "Ba-a-a!" Subsequently, on
aforesaid Counsel asking for his fee, his client replied, "Ba-a-a!"
"What," asks the _D. T._, "would Mr. FRANK LOCKWOOD, Q.C., M.P., do
with such a witness in cross-examination?" Why, 'tis evident that such
a case would not arise, as professional etiquette would prevent one
Barrister from taking a fee from a brother Barrister, that is as long
as the latter _stuck to the Ba-a-a!_

       *       *       *       *       *

VERY APPROPRIATE.--At Drury Lane, on Easter Monday, will appear _The
Bohemian Girl_, followed by the rivals in _Rustic Chivalry_. Very
flattering to the dear old _Bohemian Girl_.

       *       *       *       *       *

TREACHEROUS WEATHER.--Lord SALISBURY has had a bad cold. He has been
recommended, however, not to put on, but to put off, his Ulster.

       *       *       *       *       *

END OF THE COTTON STRIKE.--General rejoicings! All join in a reel!

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: BEHIND THE SCENES.]

ACTING MANAGER H-RC-RT. "WELL, SIR, I THINK WE MAY SAY THAT,--IN
SPITE OF THE ORGANISED OPPOSITION IN THE HOUSE,--THE FIRST ACT HAS
REALLY GONE VERY WELL!"

MR. G. (_Author and Manager_). "H'M!--BUT THE _RISKY SITUATION_ COMES
IN THE NEXT ACT!"

       *       *       *       *       *

TO MOLLY--AN APRIL FOOL.

_By a Bachelor-in-Love_ (_with Himself._)


[Illustration]


  You never, MOLLY, plucked the chances
    Last Leap Year brought of wedded rapture,
  (Since Flattery wins, where Beauty's glances
    Have failed to perpetrate a capture)?

  You never wrote to crave my fortune
    That February! Bashful, may be,
  Or over-fearful to importune
    A _parti_ so renowned, you gaby!

  Imprudent damsel, to let slip
    So much _insouciance_ and money!
  I bear no malice now, and dip
    This goosequill not in gall, but honey,

  I supplicate thee to be mine,
    Bewitching Fair, thy lode-star mocking:
  To sweetest vengeance I incline.
    (Great Scott! the sacrifice is shocking!)

  With you to share a gem unique,
    My best possession, foolish MOLLY,
  This is the penalty I seek,
    Dear fool of Spring, dear spring of Folly!

  Yet, ere I give myself away,
    And abdicate on foolscap flimsy,
  Let me implore you, mark the day--
    Time-honoured feast of prank and whimsy.

  Of my pet self, I offer half--
    To gain it myriads have endeavoured,
  So take it, _take my photograph
    Inclosed, and most adroitly severed_.

       *       *       *       *       *

THE TELEPHONIC LOVE-SONG.

    ["Lovemaking by telephone has now become quite
    common."--_Daily Paper._]

  Love, are you there? Most patiently I've waited
    To hear the answering tinkle on my bell;
  Have then the central offices belated
    Not switched me on as yet to thy hotel?
  Or is--oh, bitter thought!--a rival hated
    Addressing thee by telephone as well?
  Love, are you there? Distracted I repine;
  Oh, hear thy humble four-nought-seven-nine!

  Never three-five-nine-six have I addressed,
    The number registered for Mrs. JONES,
  Nor for six-eight-two-one the button pressed
    To woo Miss BROWN in telephonic tones;
  So grant, I pray, my moderate request,
    Nor keep me waiting thus with aching bones,
  My anxious ear pressed to the tube with care,
  While vainly I re-echo, "Are you there?"

  The suitor in the happier days of old,
    When he would woo his lady-love divine,
  Beneath her window his affection told
    In skilful verse and neatly-balanced line;
  And even if he sometimes caught a cold,
    His was a less prosaic way than mine;
  Then they'd embrace--no doubt it was not proper,
  But I can only kiss a plate of copper!

  Oh come, my love, and speak to me again,
    Say that you live for my unworthy sake,
  And kindly make each syllable quite plain,
    To guard against all subsequent mistake;
  And soon may fortune re-unite us twain,
    Communication never more to break!
  Take up your tube in answer to my prayer;
  Once more I speak my greeting--_Are you there?_

       *       *       *       *       *

GEE HO, GOSCHEN!

_Jokim_ (_singing his Agricultooral-looralist lay_).

  "O Flaxen-headed Ploughman,
      A whistling o'er the lee,
  Oh, do not _you_ know _how_, man,
      I've ever lovèd thee!"

       *       *       *       *       *

EASTER REGULATIONS FOR VOLUNTEERS.

1. Volunteers shall be expected to be up by the dawn in the morning,
be the weather rain or shine, fog, or otherwise. They will be marched
for scores of miles all day long, and, on their arrival at their
destination, shall consider themselves lucky if they find the most
primitive accommodation.

2. Although they may be accompanied by their officers, the Volunteer
rank and file will clearly understand that they are manoeuvring
purely for the pleasure, if not improvement, of a few warriors
connected with the Household troops.

3. They shall undertake the necessary duties at their own expense, and
every detail supplied by the War Office shall form the matter of an
angry altercation.

4. The convenience of Volunteers shall be ignored, so that the
comforts of the Regular officers attached to the Citizen Force, may be
secured at their expense.

5. Volunteer officers will be prepared to accept snubs and
condescension with their customary humility, and will not presume to
raise their voices in the presence of their superior (in quality if
not in rank) commanders.

6. Volunteers of all ranks will work like niggers for nothing, save
the barren honour of being told (subsequently in the public prints)
that they have merely done their duty.

7. And, to conclude, Volunteers will be expected to say that they have
thoroughly enjoyed their holiday, however difficult it may be to feel
it.

       *       *       *       *       *

AN ELIGIBLE _PARTI_.

  I know a man who manhood's name profanes,--
    Most Mayfair mothers own him rather wild;
  But, since he has more sovereigns than brains,
    Each tries to catch and tame him for her child.

  He knows enough Arithmetic to keep
    A Betting-book, and lose his little bets,
  And though his sense of honour is not deep,
    He always pays his "honourable" debts.

  Some scores of trowsers own him as their Lord,
    And endless ties and one unchanging sneer;
  He owes his tailor what would lodge and board
    And wash a brace of curates for a year.

  His wit is not so pointed as his boots,
    Bright with the polish which his manners lack,
  Nor yet so chaste as those astounding suits
    Which deck his shrunken limbs and padded back.

  His stays are always, _he_ is often, "tight,"
    His collar, like his birth, is _sans reproche_;
  He seldom does a thing because it's right,
    But, on the other hand, is never _gauche_.

  The Music Hall hath charms to soothe his breast,
    But tries in vain to tinge his pallid cheek;
  And yet the print he knows and loves the best,
    Is that which duly blushes once a week.

  He never dances since the law shut up
    His native haunt, where he could really go it,
  And romp the _pas-de-quatre_, and shout and sup--
    (Of course the Mayfair mothers did not know it).

  He never dances--but he goes about,
    And you will always meet him "everywhere,"
  And sometimes after supper he'll sit out
    A dance or two, provided she is fair.

  Some day he'll stoop to raise her to his throne,
    Look tame and tired of wild oats--for a time;
  And, when They reap the whirlwind he has sown,
    We'll talk of his misfortune and her crime.

       *       *       *       *       *

THOSE SILENT BOOTS.

_Burglar's Ballad._ AIR--"_Those Evening Bells._"

  Those Silent Boots! Those Silent Boots!
  When out upon our gay galoots,
  'Twill give us coves the bloomin' jumps,
  If we carn't 'ear the Copper's clumps!

  'Ave Bobby's Bluchers passed away?
  That there will bust the Burglar's lay!
  Wot, _silent_ "Slops"--like evening swells?
  It's wus than them electric bells!

  No, no! I 'opes, till _I_ am gone,
  The Bobby's Boots will still clump on.
  Their warnin' sound our bizness soots,
  But bust the thought o' _Silent_ Boots!

       *       *       *       *       *

SOME EVILL-MINDED PERSONS.--At the Royal Academy of Music the
competition for the Evill Prize took place last Friday, which, to
unsuccessful competitors was a day of Evill omen. This is one of the
rare instances where "Out of Evill cometh good."

       *       *       *       *       *

"ART, HOW SHE IS LEARNED."

SCENE--_London. Time--any day of the Week between Show Sunday and
Academy Sunday. Present--two_ Art Critics _à la Mode_.

_First A. C._ (_after a pause_). Yes, met a crowd of people last
Sunday. Bad memory myself, but hanged if I can remember why I went out
on Sunday.

_Second A. C._ (_after consideration_). And I too. I hate going out
on a Sunday as a rule, but I went last week. However, might have been
worse fun. Met PEACOCK girls. Rather good form.

_First A. C._ Yes, Jolly. Going to meet 'em next Sunday,--Mulberry
Road.

_Second A. C._ (_lighting a cigarette_). I'm going to the Mulberry
Road too.

_First A. C._ (_also lighting a cigarette_). But why?

_Second A. C._ (_after smoking for two minutes in silence_). Haven't
the faintest idea! Stay! Ah! (_Producing tiny memorandum book._) Here
it is, April 2nd--Mulberry Road--Academy Pictures.

_First A. C._ (_with returning intelligence_). Of course! Why, that's
what we went about. To see the pictures!

_Second A. C._ (_with further intelligence_). Yes. Going next Sunday
to Mulberry Road to see the pictures again. Rather fun, seeing
pictures!

_First C._ (_after a long pause_). Yes, rather.

[_Scene closes in upon their commencing to discuss some other
subject._

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: FORTUNE'S FOOL.

"WELL, IF THAT DON'T BEAT HEVERYTHINK, 'AVEN'T SET UP 'ERE IN BUSINESS
A MONTH, AND THEY'RE GOIN' TO REDRAIN THE 'OLE PLACE!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

QUITE A CHIC CARGO!

A GROUP of "World's Women" belonging to all races, has set out from
Southampton in the steamship _Paris_, _en route_ to the World's Fair.
There are English damsels, Scotch lassies, Tyrolese, Hungarian,
Parisian, Chinese, and Japanese ladies. Instead of being called
"World's Women," they ought, of course, to go as "World's Fair-ies."
"Arrangements have been made for bringing them back;" but suppose
they prefer to stay? America is a free country; Chicago is one of the
freest parts of it. So, after their relative powers of fascinating the
American male have been tested, their power of becoming his relatives
may have to be counted with. Let us hope they will be accommodated
with separate buildings at the Exposition; or a "Lady's Battle"
may ensue, under Queensberry Rules. European _versus_ Asiatic,
or--say--Fräulein _versus_ Mademoiselle. This would be a great hit.

       *       *       *       *       *

TWEEDLEDUM AND TWEEDLEDEE.

  The most cursory eye it must surely strike,
  That VOTE and VETO look much alike.
  Yet rival ranters are straining throat,
  To VOTE the VETO--_or_ VETO the VOTE!
  On a slight transposition thus hinges the quarrel
  'Twixt the fierce fanatics of Pump and Barrel.

       *       *       *       *       *

ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.

EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M.P.

_House of Commons, Monday, March 20._--"That's the best speech
HARCOURT has made this Session," said GEORGE CURZON, as we walked into
Lobby to support Government against onslaught of SAGE OF QUEEN ANNE'S
GATE, who disapproves its Uganda policy.

"Which speech?" I asked, eagerly, always anxious to learn. GEORGE
CURZON just back from far East; has sat astride the Wall of China,
and taken five-o'clock tea with the QUEEN OF COREA. ULYSSES, with his
twenty-years' tramp, not in it with him. "Which speech?" I repeated.
"The speech he didn't make just now in reply to CHAMBERLAIN," said
CURZON, in that sententious tone, and with that grave manner he has
learned among the Apaches of the Ural Mountains.

Wants thinking over, this; but is quite true. A great temptation for
the SQUIRE; would have been irresistible at one time. JOSEPH had made
a brilliant speech, scintillating with diamond dagger-points. Yielding
to the habit of heredity, he had been more than usually disagreeable
towards his Brethren. "The original JOSEPH," as the SQUIRE remarked,
in a little aside, whilst the speech went on amid uproarious delight
of the Gentlemen of England, "had one soft place in his resentful
heart. But our JOE finds no BENJAMIN among us--unless, indeed, it be
TREVELYAN, and, I believe, if, after filling up his sack, he had put
in any extraneous substance, it would not have been a cup of silver."

Time was when the SQUIRE would have jumped at this opportunity.
Benches crowded with jubilant gentlemen in dinner dress; excitement
of cheers and counter-cheers filled House. Few things delight it more
than encounter between these two brilliant swordsmen. Only half-past
eleven; Twelve-o'clock Rule suspended; plenty of time for business
by-and-by; half an hour's sport hurt nobody.

When SQUIRE rose, a ringing cheer went up from Ministerialists. Their
turn now. JOE was "going to catch it." But SQUIRE knew better than
that. Opportunity tempting; almost irresistible. But business first,
pleasure after. With touching air of resignation, SQUIRE said they
had listened to a very good speech, and now he hoped the Vote would
be agreed to; at which point he meekly sat down. Shock so sudden and
unexpected that no one but NOLAN moved, and he, finding himself on
his legs, had no words ready. Whilst he was gasping in search of them,
Closure moved; Chairman, who is getting well into the saddle, put
question with lightning-like rapidity; before Committee quite knew
where it was, it was dividing on the Uganda Vote.

_Business done._--Supplementary Estimates concluded; Report of Supply
agreed to; way cleared for Appropriation Bill.


_Tuesday Night._--HENRY FOWLER explained Parish Council Bill in speech
of equal force and lucidity. "Hands all round," as TENNYSON said, in
applause of speech and approval of Bill. JESSE COLLINGS rather hinted
that anything good in measure was conveyed from RITCHIE'S Bill, and
everyone knows that RITCHIE was mere lay-figure behind which JESSE
controlled policy of Local Government Board under last Administration.
Even this criticism meant as compliment. No harsher note disturbed
chorus of approval.

JOKIM, in effusion of moment, led into making interesting confession.
As he says, only he put it stronger, general impression is that he
is not particularly attached to Agricultural Labourer. BOBBY SPENCER,
when he made his historic declaration--"Mr. SPEAKER, Sir, I am not
an Agricultural Labourer"--understood to have JOKIM in his mind;
endeavouring to ingratiate himself with the statesman who, at the
time, was CHANCELLOR OF EXCHEQUER. JOKIM, certainly, through long
and honourable career, never lost opportunity of hustling HODGE.
Deductions drawn from this attitude entirely erroneous. Only been
dissembling his love. Made clean breast of it to-day. Clasping his
hands with genuine emotion, tear plainly tickling through his voice,
he exclaimed, "It has been the dream of my life to educate the
Agricultural Labourer in Parish affairs!"

[Illustration: "CATCHING VOTES."
(_Suggested by the Picture "Catching Flies."_)]

"Well, I must say, I never would have thought it," said GRANDOLPH,
regarding with new interest his Right Hon. friend.

_Business done._--Parish Councils Bill brought in.

_Thursday._--Pretty to watch Mr. G. in conversation with Prince ARTHUR
on question of Vote of Censure. When CAMERON, "doing a bit of bounce,"
as BRODRICK said, asked PREMIER whether, supposing Opposition
resolved to move Vote of Censure, a day wouldn't be found for them,
Ministerialists cheered and Opposition responded. House never more
like public school than when a fight is being got up. Now spirit rose
to bubbling point; cheering and counter-cheering incessant. Only Mr.
G. sat silent, apparently so deeply interested in Orders that he had
not noticed what was forward. But he saw it all, saw a foot or two
further into futurity than the jubilant throng behind him. CAMERON
had unwittingly dealt trump card to Opposition avowedly bent on
obstructing Home-Rule Bill. Had a pretty good go to-day. Two hours
for Questions; two hours more to be used up on Motion for Adjournment.
That would serve to throw Registration Bill over sitting and spoil Mr.
G.'s little programme. But this suggestion of Vote of Censure coming
from other side, worth at least couple of days. Mr. G. saw it all,
and once glanced quickly across table in search of sign that anyone on
Front Bench opposite had made the discovery. Thought he saw a gleam
of intelligence in GRANDOLPH'S eye. Hoped things might blow over;
but there was inconvenient questioner behind, with Scotch persistency
waiting answer. Ministerialists cheering like mad; Opposition
truculently responding; all waiting for him. Must do or say something.
Wouldn't commit himself by saying anything. Half rose from seat and
bowed assent.

[Illustration: POPPING THE QUESTIONS;
_Or, Scene from old Burlesque of "Obstruction" as revived at St.
Stephen's Theatre Royal._]

By this time Prince ARTHUR began to see light. Some smart fencing
followed; Prince ARTHUR pressed home Vote of Censure question; Mr. G.,
whilst carefully avoiding any movement that might seem like retreat,
evaded the point. Later, when GRANDOLPH remarked that PRIME MINISTER
had challenged them to move Vote of Censure, Mr. G. angrily retorted,
"I did nothing of the sort." Too late now; Right Hon. Gentlemen on
Front Opposition Bench having put their heads together, determined to
ride in at gate CAMERON obligingly opened. Drew up Motion of Vote of
Censure, and Mr. G. must needs, out of his diminishing hoard of days,
find one for debating it; Opposition mean to make it two, or even
three.

[Illustration: _Mr. G._ (_sings sotto voco_), "How happy could I be
with either! Were only Uganda away!"]

"I wish," said Mr. G., in those chest-notes that indicate profounder
indignation, "my people would leave me to manage the business of
House."

_Business done._--Four hours wasted. Vote of Censure invited.

_Friday Midnight._--Wonder to find SAGE OF QUEEN ANNE'S GATE still at
post of duty. Business rather heavy work; think it would be well that
so precious a life should be cared for. Say this to him.

"You're very kind, TOBY," he answered, just a little wearily "but I
never think of myself when the interests of my QUEEN and Country are
at stake. Fact is, I have charge of a Bill drafted in the interests of
our fellow-citizen the Sweep. He has thrown himself into my arms (of
course I use the phrase in a Parliamentary sense) and I am resolved
to do my best for him. I am told that the business which called the
Judges into private consultation the other day was a proposal to place
my bust, crowned with laurel, on a prominent pedestal in the Royal
Courts of Justice. Well, I have done something in my time for justice;
just now all my sympathies are with the Sweep. I receive deputations
of them every day. No, they don't enter by the chimney, but come in by
the front-door in ordinary fashion. When there are more than five of
them, and they stay over twenty minutes, they leave a little smell
lingering in the room. But that's nothing. I'm waiting now to move
Second Reading of my Bill. Want Mr. G. to take it up. Have told him
people really don't care for Home-Rule Bill, whereas, if he gave his
mind to it, he might rouse the country on the question of the harmless
necessary Sweep. But no use. He's too deeply rooted in his attachment
to his Home-Rule scheme. Daresay I shall get my Bill through first."

_Business done._--Patience of long-suffering SPEAKER breaks down
at last. JEMMY LOWTHER did it. On Appropriation Bill moved
incomprehensible Amendment, in unintelligble speech; SPEAKER came down
on him "like cartload of bricks," as JOHN BURNS put it. JAMES only
temporarily subdued; will probably come up smiling on Monday.



       *       *       *       *       *



Transcriber's note:

   Missing or illegible/damaged punctuation has been repaired.





*** End of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 104, April 1, 1893" ***

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