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Title: Punch 1893.07.29
Author: Various
Language: English
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Copyright Status: Not copyrighted in the United States. If you live elsewhere check the laws of your country before downloading this ebook. See comments about copyright issues at end of book.

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VOLUME 105, JULY 29TH 1893

_edited by Sir Francis Burnand_



Mr. PUNCH has much pleasure in recommending the following Prospectus
to the notice of parents desirous of finding a thoroughly practical
school where boys are educated according to the real requirements of
modern life.


Mr. J. PEN-RULLOX, M.A. Cambs., and the Rev. WILFRID BAILS, B.A.
Oxon, receive pupils to prepare for the great public schools and

The well-known qualifications of Mr. PEN-RULLOX, who rowed stroke in
his university boat in the celebrated race at Amwell in 1878, and of
the Rev. Mr. BAILS, who played for Oxford in the famous university
match in the Common Fields in 1882, will be sufficient guarantee that
the boys will be thoroughly well instructed.

Besides Rowing, Cricket, and Football; Swimming, Racquets, Boxing,
and Hockey, are specially attended to by competent Assistant-Masters,
under the personal supervision of the Principals.

Billiards, Lawn-tennis, Poker, Nurr and Spell, and some other minor
games, now too frequently neglected in the education of youth, will
find their due place in the curriculum of Cloanthus House.

It is in contemplation, should a sufficient number of boys show a
marked inclination for such studies, to engage a Board-school Master,
of approved competence, to direct literary and scientific work.

Terms, inclusive, £250 per annum, payable in advance: the only extras
at present being Reading, Writing, Polo, and Arithmetic.

Reference is kindly permitted to the following:--The Right Rev. the
Bishop of ISTHMIA; the Editor of the _Sporting Life_; the Rev. R.
E. D. HORGAN, M.A., Jesurum Col., Cambs; the Sports Editor of the
_Field_; the Warden of Mortlake College, Putney; Dr. S. A. GRACE,
LL.D.; the Hon. and Rev. HURLINGHAM PEEL.

       *       *       *       *       *


(_A long way after Tennyson._)

  Break, break, break,
    O voice on that clear top C!
  And I would that my throat could utter
    High notes as they used to be.

  O well for old BUNDLECOOP'S boy
    That he still shouts his full round A!
  O well for that tow-headed lad
    That he sings in his old clear way.

  And the anthems still go on
    With boy-trebles sharp and shrill;
  But O for _my_ "compass," so high and grand,
    And the voice that I _used_ to trill!

  Break, break, break,
    Like a creaky old gate, top C!
  But the high treble notes of a voice that is cracked,
    Will never come back to me!

       *       *       *       *       *


THE WHITE CURRENCY QUESTION.--Can nothing be done to prevent the
Indian VICEROY from carrying out his monstrous proposal about the
Rupee? I was just off to Bombay (having recently completed a period
of enforced seclusion in Devonshire, occasioned by a too successful
competition with a monopolist Mint) on the strength of a newspaper
paragraph that "Free Coining of Silver" was permitted in that happy
land. Free Coining! In my opinion it beats "Free Education" hollow,
and is just what I have always wanted. I felt that my fortune was
made, when suddenly the news comes that the free coinage business is
stopped. What an injustice! In the name of the down-trodden Hindoo,
to whom my specially manufactured nickel-and-tin Rupee would have been
quite a new revelation, I protest against this interference with the
immemorial customs of our Oriental fellow-subjects.--JEREMIAH D'IDDLA.

       *       *       *       *       *

AP RHYS, AP JONES, and many others, Wales is the ideal "'Appy Land."

       *       *       *       *       *


(_By a future Lord Chancellor._)

  The close of the season, the close of the season,
  It leaves a man rifled of rhino and reason;
  And now, with hot rain and a westerly breeze on,
  I don't opine racketing London agrees on
  The whole with Society. "_Kyrie Eleison_"
  I'll chaunt when I stand with my wife and my wee son
  Some windy "Parade" or exuberant "Lees" on,
  In the splash of the salt and the flash of the free sun,
  And am garbed in a fashion that, sure, would be treason
  To Bond Street; and ruminate, sprawling at ease on
  The sands with their bands and extempore sprees on.--
  "Table d'Hôte-ards," repair to your Homburgs or freeze on
  Cosmopolitan Alps, and eat kickshaws to tease one;
  But _me_ let the niggers marine and the sea's un-
  Translateable sing-song, and bathers with d----s on,
  Delight, and bare children, their noses and knees on,
  Till quite I forget Messrs. WELBY AND MEESON
  (Those despots of law) and my failures, and fees un-
  Liquidated as yet, and myself--and the season!

       *       *       *       *       *



Production of new Opera, _Amy Robsart_, arranged (and very well
arranged, too) from Sir WALTER SCOTT'S novel, by Sir AUGUSTUS HARRIS
and PAUL MILLIET, the English adaptation by FREDERIC WEATHERLY, and
music by ISIDORE DE LARA. CALVÉ in the title _rôle_, splendid;
going through everything--three rather lengthy Acts, two impassioned
love-duets, and the trap-door in the bridge--with unflagging spirit
and charm.

In the Second Act, Kenilworth shown illuminated for the reception of
_Elizabeth_--_Leicester_ having evidently borrowed one of the band
kiosks from Earl's Court. _Elizabeth_, according to stage directions,
should have entered "seated upon a magnificent white horse," but
preferred to walk in. Possibly her steed detained by business
engagements. As represented by Madame ARMAND, an easy-going,
sunny-tempered sovereign, with an amiable dislike of any
"unpleasantness" among her courtiers. The _Earl of Sussex_ the most
impressive mute (next to his contemporary the _Earl of Burleigh_ in
_The Critic_) on the boards,--nothing to do but look haughty, and
at last, at the Queen's command, consent to become reconciled to
_Leicester_,--but the subtle suggestion in his "shake-hands" that
he did so on compulsion, and reserved himself the right of punching
_Leicester's_ head at the first convenient opportunity, very
artistically conveyed. Part most carefully thought out. The Revels cut
short by the inconsiderate appearance of _Amy Robsart_ when they were
just beginning, which must have been annoying for the Lady of the
Lake, who had just arrived to pay homage to the Queen, and found
herself obliged to get upon her floating island again, and go home in
the most ignominious manner, without waiting even for the "shower
of stars," which were to have fallen over the water. _Elizabeth_,
however, seemed quite unruffled by the interruption, perhaps thinking
that anything was a relief which put an end to the revels. _Finale_
to this Act dramatic, and well worked up. Third Act in two short
_tableaux_, concluding with a duel and explanation (in two lines)
between _Leicester_ and _Tressilian_, after which the opera ends
abruptly with _Varney's_ highly ungentlemanly practical joke upon poor
_Amy Robsart_, and _Leicester's_ request to _Tressilian_ to take his
sword and run him through--which, however, he had no time to grant,
as the curtain fell at that moment. After that, well-deserved
floral tributes to Madame CALVÉ, and enthusiastic calls for singers,
composer, manager, and carriages.

       *       *       *       *       *


(_A Cricketer's "Catch."_ AIR--"_Come Follow!_")

_First Voice._ Come follow, follow, follow, follow, follow, follow on!

_Second Voice._ Why then should I follow, follow, follow, why then
must I follow, follow on?

_Third Voice._ When you're Eighty runs or more behind our score you
follow on!

       *       *       *       *       *


_G. O. M._ (_to Radical Member_). My dear Sir, will _you_ vote for
this clause?

_Rad. Mem._ I will, Sir. What is it?

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: "TOO KIND BY HALF."

_Jacques Bonhomme._ "_PARDON, MON AMI!_ 'SAVE IN THE WAY OF

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: A NEW LANGUAGE.

_Mamma_ (_severely_). "DON'T SQUINT, EFFIE, MY DEAR!"


       *       *       *       *       *


    ["The independence and integrity of Siam ... is a subject of
    great importance to the British, and more especially to the
    British Indian Empire."--_Lord Rosebery._ "We have in no way
    any intention of threatening the independence of Siam."--_M.

_British Tar sings, someway after Mr. Rudyard Kipling's "Tommy."_


  "By the old Moulmein Pagoda, lookin' eastward to the sea,
  There's a Burma girl a settin'," an' she takes _'er_ time from _me_.
  But this Siam puss looks pooty, and I'm sorter bound to say
  "You stand back, you sailor Frenchy! that's a game as two can play!"
              'Twas _my_ game at Mandalay,
              And _you_ seem on the same lay:
  You can twig my Jack a-flaunting from the Nile to Mandalay;
              But this I've got to say,
              If your 'and on 'er you lay,
  I shall ask you to take a 'and in a game as _men_ can play!

  'Er petticoat is yaller, and 'er little cap is green,
  And--I shouldn't half object to interjuce 'er to my Queen!
  I don't want to see 'er suckin' of a Paris cigarette,
  And a-wastin' purchased kisses on French Bullyvards--you bet!
              No, I wouldn't shed no blood,
              But by Mekon's yaller mud,
  I 'ave always felt it "bizness" to take care no rival stud
              On my road to "far Cathay."

  Wot? She's fired upon your gunboats? Well, I'd like to know, yer see,
  If them gunboats wos cavortin' where they didn't ought to be.
  Your clutch upon 'er wrist, eh? Well, that's like your bloomin' cheek!
  She shrinks from you, my Frenchy. No, yer know if she _should_ squeak--
              Give a reglar woman's squeak,
              Though she looks carved out o' teak--
  I should think o' my own womankind, my friend, and I should--_speak_
              In the British sailor's way!

  You'll "respect 'er Independence and Integrity," you say?
  Well, a man who on a woman 'is 'and would dare to lay--
  Hay? _Save in the way o' kyindness!_ Why, you've capped me there, I own,
  Which I didn't think _that_ sentiment to Frenchies was beknown.
              It's a bit o' good old VIC.!
              But you've nicked it quick and slick.
  Well, I 'ope you'll square it fairly, and not lay it on too thick,
              In the brave old _Bismarck_ way!

  The idea o' wasting ivory, silk, and peacocks' tails, and such,
  Upon merchants who're a trifle too much like GEORGE CANNING'S "Dutch."[A]
  When a fair and square Free Trader, like--well, not _un_like myself,
  Could stand by for to purtect 'er, and 'elp 'er--and 'im--pile pelf,
              Well--I can quite understand
              She may find your 'eavy 'and
  Too _kyind_ by half, my Frenchy, and prefer the British land,
              And the British Tar's old way.

  Yes; our ROSEBERY and your DEVELLE do agree--in words, no doubt,
  But, yer see, the Ten Commandments, in Bangkok, git turned about!
  "Independence and Integrity" for pooty dear Miss SIAM,
  Is wot _you_'re "interested in" my Frenchy,--and so I am!
              Only--in the game we play,
              Cards do turn up in a way
  That would stagger sly AH SIN himself. If you git in my way
              On my road to "Old Cathay,"
              Or my aid this gyurl _should_ pray,
  I _might_ p'raps come down like thunder,--as I did in Mandalay!

[Footnote A:

  "In matters of commerce, the fault of the Dutch
  Is giving too little and asking too much."

    _Canning's "A Political Despatch."_]

       *       *       *       *       *

THE BATTLE OF THE SEXES.--_Middlesex_ v. _Sussex_.

       *       *       *       *       *


_The performance has begun._ Captain BOYTON _has just descended the
Chute in a boat, with a bevy of lightly-clad young ladies waving flags
with shrill enthusiasm. Canadians, Indians, and Negroes row various
craft containing Beauties of the Ballet about the Lake. An elderly
Negress stands on an island, and waves a towel encouragingly at things
in general. Two Clowns, accompanied by a futile individual disguised
as a Frog, start to run round the margin of the Lake with a gallant
determination to be funny, but abandon the attempt after making a
quarter of the distance, and complete the circuit with a subdued and
chastened demeanour._

_Mr. Bravo_ (_to_ Mr. BLAZZEY, _enthusiastically_). Capital show
this--wonderfully well arranged!

_Mr. Blazzey_ (_screwing up his eyes_). Y--yes. Better if they'd had
_water_ running down the incline, though, and sent _all_ the boats in
that way.

_Mr. Bravo._ Don't see how they could pump up water enough for that,
myself; and if they did, it would all run through at the sides!

_Mr. Blazz._ (_ignoring any hydraulic difficulties_). Oh, they could
have dodged that if they chose; anyway, that's how it _ought_ to have
been managed!

_Miss Frivell_ (_to Mr. Hoplight_). I can hardly believe this is the
same place where BUFFALO BILL gave his performance only last year, can
you? It all looks so different!

[Illustration: "I find no difficulty in recognising it, myself."]

_Mr. Hopl._ (_after ponderous consideration._) I find no difficulty in
recognising it, myself. The difference you observe is due to the fact
that the arena which was originally constructed for--er--displays of
horsemanship requires to undergo some considerable--er--structural
alterations before being equally well adapted to a performance in
which--er--boating and swimming form the--er--principal features.

_Miss Friv._ (_with exemplary gravity_). I see. You mean there must be

_Mr. Hopl._ Water is undoubtedly an--er--indispensable element in such
an exhibition.

_Miss Friv._ How clever of you to know that! But perhaps someone told

_Mr. Hopl._ (_modestly_). I arrived at it by the--er--light of my own
unassisted intelligence.

_Miss Friv._ Did you? Not _really_! "How far that little candle throws
his beams!" (_To herself._) I didn't mean to be so rude as that! But
he's no business to be such a bore!

_Mr. Bravo_ (_after the Sculling-race between_ ROSS _and_ BUBEAR).
That was a good race, eh? They're the champion scullers, you know.

_Mr. Blazz._ Don't see the point of setting 'em to race _here_,
though. Rather like running the Derby in a riding-school!

_A Sympathetic Lady_ (_during the Swimming-race_). How well those
girls do swim! I suppose they go under first, and then come up again.
But how damp they must get, to be sure, doing that twice a day! I
daresay they never get their hair properly dry from one week's end to
another. I should think that must be so uncomfortable for them, you
know. However, they seem to be having plenty of fun among themselves.
I wish we could hear what they are saying; but there's so much to look
at, that one misses most of it!

[_A Pontoon is moved out into the centre of the Lake, and three "Rocky
Mountain Wonders" give an entertainment on board. The first Wonder
constructs the letter A with himself and two high ladders, up which
the other two run nimbly. They meet at the top with mutual surprise,
and a touch of resentment, as if each had expected at least to find
solitude there. The Second Wonder lies down on his back resignedly,
and the Third, meanly availing himself of the opportunity, stands on
his friend's stomach, and strikes an attitude. Both descend and
bow, in recognition of applause, and then each starts up his ladder
again--only to meet once more at the top, more surprised and annoyed
than ever. The Third Wonder refuses to be appeased unless he is
allowed to hold the Second head downwards by the ankles. After further
amenities of this kind they come down, apparently reconciled, and are
towed back to the shore._

_Miss Friv._ Is that supposed to be an illustration of life on the
Rocky Mountains?

_Mr. Hopl._ (_bringing the full powers of his mind to bear on the
subject_). I should be inclined to doubt myself whether it afforded
any accurate idea of either the industry or the--er--relaxations
peculiar to that region, which can hardly be favourable to such

_Miss Friv._ They might find it useful for escaping from a grizzly,
mightn't they?

_Mr. Hopl._ Hardly, if, as I have always been given to understand, the
grizzly bear is an equally expert climber. I imagine their title of
"Rocky Mountain Wonders" is merely indicative of their--er--origin,
and that their performances would indeed excite more wonder in their
native country than anywhere else. One should always guard against
taking these things in too literal a spirit.

[Miss F. _assents demurely, and is suddenly moved to mirth, as she
is careful to explain, by the sight of a Nigger, which, Mr. H. very
justly remarks, is scarcely a subject for so much amusement_.

_Mr. Bravo_ (_after the Corps de Ballet have performed various
evolutions on a large raft_). I call that uncommonly pretty, all those
girls dancing there in the sunlight, eh?

_Mr. Blazz._ Pretty enough--in its proper place.

_Mr. Bravo_ (_losing his patience at last_). Why, hang it all, you
wouldn't have the Ballet danced under water, would you?

_Mr. Blazz._ Well, it would be more of a novelty, at any rate.

[Mr. BRAVO _decides that "it was a mistake to come out with a chap
like_ BLAZZEY."


_A Small Sharp Boy_ (_with an admiring Father, Mother, and
Grandmother_). Father, why ha' them Injuns all got feathers stuck
round their 'eds like shuttlecocks, eh? Is it to show as they're in
the terbaccer line, eh, Father? Is the gentleman on the bicycle a real
demon, eh, Father? Ain't he like what a real demon is? _Why_ ain't you
never seen one, Father? Think you'll _ever_ see one, eh? Why's that
man going right up atop of that pole for? Why is he goin' to jump off?
Will he git drownded, eh, Father? Don't he _ever_ git drownded? Could
_you_ dive off from as 'igh as that with your legs tied? Could Uncle
BILL? Could Gran'ma, with _'er_ legs tied? [_&c., &c._


_Shilling and Sixpenny Spectators._ That's the police station on that
boat where the two Bobbies are.... 'Ere's a rummy couple coming along
in this boat! See the bloke with the bald 'ed, and the ole girl in a
pink bonnet?... There, they've run slap into them others, and the ole
bloke's got his 'eels in the air. Oh, dear, oh, dear!... Look at the
bobbies tryin' to run 'em in. Lor, they're all pourin' water on
to each other's 'eds as 'ard as they can go! 'Ere's the ole walrus
swimmin' up now, d'ye _see_? And the ole Clown a fishin' for 'im. 'E's
bin an' dragged 'im 'in 'ed foremost! Look at the walrus a duckin' o'
the ole woman. Hor, hor, if ever I see the like o' that! Is that like
'ow they 'unt walruses, Father, eh? Blest if the ole walrus ain't got
into the station 'ouse _after_ 'em. Look at 'em all gittin' out on the
roof--_in_ they jump! And the ole girl goin' in backards, hor, hor!
And the other bloke any'ow. See the 'ole admiral in the cocked 'at a
takin' sights through 'is spy-glorss! Now they're gittin' the 'arpoon
ready. There, they've copped 'im--it's all over! Well, that _was_ a
good lark, and no mistake!


Oh, it was perfectly splendid! We put the rugs right over our heads,
and didn't get wet a bit!... I don't know if you're aware of it, my
dear, but you've got black streaks all down your face. Gracious! it's
the dye from my veil. Do I look very dreadful, dear? Well, it _shows_,
of course--but I wouldn't touch it, or you'll make it worse.... This
lot got a ducking, and no mistake--_look_ at 'em--ho, ho!... I say,
dear old chap, you _ought_ to have come too--it was ripping! Splashed?
No, nothing to speak of. Eh? "My hat?" What's _wrong_ with it? Oh,
confound it all! I only took a front seat to oblige those two girls.
Yes, _I_ can see they're giggling at me as well as you can. Look here,
old fellow, _do_ you know if there's a place here where I can get my
hat ironed, and buy a collar and tie? Because I've got to meet the
CHAFFINGTONS here, and dine with 'em and that. "So have _you_?" Then
_that_'s why you backed out of going down the Chute! Why the deuce
didn't you _say_ so? Oh, if you're going to stand there laughing like
a fool, I'm off! I may just have time to---- Hang it; there _are_ the
CHAFFINGTON girls! Is my collar too _beastly_ limp? you might _tell_ a

       *       *       *       *       *


(_By a Quondam Fare._)


  Here's a health to you, GOSPODIN IVÁNOFF--
    Or whatever your name may chance to be--
  Of _vodka_ I'll toss you a full _stakán_ off
    (A tumbler, I mean, of _eau de vie_);
  And I'll sing you _fortissimo con furore_
    Your national hymn, in a cheerful key,
  ('Twill colour with local tone my story,
    To start with your "_Bozhe Tsaryá khrani_").

  'Twas a lively morning, my hirsute Jehu,
    In Petersburg once we together spent;
  And now in my sketch-book I still can see you
    (The annexed for your portrait's humbly meant).
  Your costume resembled in part a butcher's--
    A dull blue gown of a vast extent,
  With top-boots, like each of the other _kutschers_
    And shocking bad hat, all "bashed" and bent.

  Ere long you called me your "little brother,"
    Or else--your knowledge of Court to show--
  (What one Russian "High Excellence" styles another)
  You wanted to learn how to greet an acquaintance
    In English; I said, to be _comme il faut_,
  That "God save the Queen" was the proper sentence--
    I own that my hoax was a trifle low.

  A large percentage, my gay _izvostchik_,
    I failed of your jokes to understand;
  But I safely say you displayed the _most_ cheek
    Of any I've met by sea or land.
  When you pitched me clean out on the Nevski pavement,
    With syllable brief I loudly banned;
  But as _dam_ in your lingo "I'll give" (you knave!) meant,
    You grinned, and for "tea-money" held your hand.

  I shall never forget that awful jolting
    I got as you whirled me round about
  In your backless car; for your bumping, bolting,
    You really, my Vanka, deserved the knout.
  Well, I won't say "Good-bye," but "_Do svidanya_"--
    Though whether we'll meet again I doubt;
  If you ever _should_ wander to far BRITANNIA,
    I fear you will probably find me "Out."

       *       *       *       *       *

MOTTO FOR PROFESSORS OF PALMISTRY.-- "_Palmam qui meruit ferat._"
_i.e._, "Who has paid his money may bare his palm."

       *       *       *       *       *

It is proposed to establish a fire-station, "with fifty men, on the
Thames Embankment." For what purpose? In case of anybody setting the
Thames on Fire?

       *       *       *       *       *

Mrs. R. says she never has toast for breakfast, but always
"fresh-airated bread."

       *       *       *       *       *


  Who gets, by hook or crook, from me
  Admittance free, though well knows he
  That myriads turned away will be?
                    The Deadhead.

  Who, while he for his programme pays
  The smallest silver coin, inveighs
  Against such fraud with eyes ablaze?
                    The Deadhead.

  Who to his neighbour spins harangues,
  On how he views with grievous pangs
  The dust that on our hangings hangs?
                    The Deadhead.

  Who, in a voice which rings afar,
  Declares, while standing at the bar,
  Our drinks most deleterious are?
                    The Deadhead.

  Who aye withholds the claps and cheers
  That others give? Who jeers and sneers
  At all he sees and all he hears?
                    The Deadhead.

  Who loudly, as the drama's plot
  Unfolds, declares the tale a lot
  Of balderdash and tommy-rot?
                    The Deadhead.

  Who dubs the actors boorish hinds?
  Who fault with all the scenery finds?
  Who with disgust his molars grinds?
                    The Deadhead.

  Who spreads dissatisfaction wide
  'Mongst those who else with all they spied
  Had been extremely satisfied?
                    The Deadhead.

  Who runs us down for many a day,
  And keeps no end of folks away
  That else would for admittance pay?
                    The Deadhead.

  Who keeps his reputation still,
  For recompensing good with ill
  With more than Pandemonium's skill?
                    The Deadhead.

  Who makes the bankrupt's doleful doom
  In all its blackness o'er me loom?
  Who'll bring my grey head to the tomb?
                    The Deadhead.

       *       *       *       *       *


(_Adapted to the Requirements of the Army._)

"There was no doubt about it," queried the Quartermaster to the
Adjutant, "the Chief certainly desired me to execute him?"

"That is unquestionably my impression," replied the Adjutant.

"Yes, and it never does to question his orders," continued the
Quartermaster; "it makes him so wild if he fancies that you are
disobeying his commands."

"Quite so," admitted the Adjutant; "and so the best thing is to carry
them out. As you know, obedience is 'the first law of a soldier.'"

"Still, to shoot a man for nothing, does seem a _little_ hard."

"How do we know it's for nothing? You may be sure the Chief has his
own reasons for everything."

And so the two warriors walked to the barrack square and sent for the
unfortunate Private THOMAS ATKINS. As the order was conveyed to the
quarters of the rank and file, men lounged out of the mess-room, and
discussed the Colonel's orders. It seemed "a bit strange," but it
was not for them to dispute the chief's command. And, as they spoke,
Private THOMAS ATKINS was produced. He had a clean defaulter's sheet.

"On my word, I really trust that there may be some mistake," said a
Brigade-Surgeon-Lieutenant-Colonel M.D. "But, as I am not now attached
to the battalion, I have no right to interfere."

Private THOMAS ATKINS was marched to a wall, ordered to right-about
turn, and then (under the command of the Quartermaster) shot.

Then the civil power, in the person of a police-constable, thought it
time to interfere, and arrested the officer immediately in command.

"Dear me!" exclaimed the Colonel, subsequently; "how exceedingly
absurd! I wanted the Quartermaster to give him a new suit, and he
thought I asked him to shoot him! You fellows really ought to be more

But nothing could be done, because the matter had passed into the
hands of the civil power.

And, all things taken into consideration, it was just as well that
they had.

       *       *       *       *       *


(_Some Way after Villon and Rossetti._)


  Tell me, now, where has _it_ departed,
    That fine old apple, the Ribstone Pippin,
  The rosy-coated, and juicy-hearted,
    I loved, when a "nipper," my teeth to slip in?

  Where is the Russet we boys thought rippin'?
    (Though its sharpness sometimes started the tears?)
  Oh! such-like often I've spent my "tip" in--
    But where are the apples of earlier years?

  Where's the King Pippin, the sun-brown one?
    And where is the Catshead, light Spring green?
  (Which gave, while eating, such glorious fun,
    If--after munching--some dule and teen)?
  And where is the Golden Knob, whose sheen
    Would draw the wasps all about our ears?
  (Sometimes in our mouths, if they were not seen)--
    But where are the apples of earlier years?

  White watery things from the land of the Yankee,
    And sugary shams from the Austral seas,
  They sell us--at sixpence per pound! No, thankee!
    I have no palate for frauds like these.
  There's not an apple that now could please
    Poor EVE so much as to waken fears.
  Ah, the luscious Pippins youth crunched at ease!
    But where are the apples of earlier years?

  Nay, never ask if your fruiterer's heard
    Of "a decent pippin" (the huckster sneers!)
  Except with this for, an overword--
    But where _are_ the apples of earlier years?

       *       *       *       *       *

RATHER MIXED.--In the sale of wines at CHRISTIE'S last week, Lot 136
is described as "3 dozen of sherry, 1842, been to West Indies, more or
less." Now, why this mystery? Why not make a clean breast of it? Is it
meant that the sherry called in at only one or two of the Indies? or
did it only set half way on the voyage to the group? We should learn
more or be told less.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: FELINE AMENITIES.

_Fair Visitor._ "Do Play something, Dear! I love to hear your Music!"


       *       *       *       *       *


Grand Old Puntsman pipes up:--

        "_Lock! Lock! Lock!_"
  Heaven be thanked, we're through it!
    Spite of crush, and jam, and shock,
      _That's_ the way to do it!
  Now for a fair "flowing tide,"
    Verdurous banks and shady!
  Yes, we're through. _I_'m glad, aren't _you_,
    Eh, my little lady?

        "_Lock! Lock! Lock!_"
  Trim the punt, sweet, prythee!
    You look nice in your new frock!
      Fresh as osier withy.
  How they strove your togs to tear;
    Hinder, or capsize us!
  But, hurroo! we've scrambled through!
    Nought need now surprise us!

        "_Lock! Lock! Lock!_"
  Faint cry, far before us!
    Lot of toffs my efforts mock;
      Menace us in chorus.
  Swear they'll swamp us at the weir.
    Fate there's no controlling,
  But the Grand Old River Hand
    Puts his faith in pol(l)ing!

Sit tight, my dear, and as we drop down with the tide towards the next
lock, I'll sing you a new river-song to an old air. [_Sings._

  And did you ne'er hear of a jolly old punting man,
    Who near Westminster his calling doth ply?
  He handles his pole with such skill and dexterity,
    Winning each "No" and enchanting each "Aye."
  He looks so neat, he steers so steadily,
  The ladies all flock to his punt so readily;
  And he's so celebrated for courage and care,
  That he's seldom in want of a freight or a fare.

  But o'er his last passenger rivals made merry.
    She _did_ look so feeble, and frightened withal:
  "A fair sample this of your fine Irish ladies!
    In a Party like yours won't she kick up a squall?"
  Thus oft they'd be chaffing, and shouting and jeering,
 But 'twas all one to WILLY; he stuck to his steering;
  For hissing or hooting he little did care,
  He handled his pole, and looked after his fare.

  And ah! just to think now how strangely things happen!
    He poled along, caring for no one at all;
  By a crush in the lock, foes his fare meant alarming,
    And hoped in deep water she fainting might fall.
  But he bade the young damsel to banish all sorrow,
  "If they block us to-day, dear, we'll get through to-morrow."
  And now the old Puntsman is through! But they swear
  They'll yet flummox the future of him and his fare!

       *       *       *       *       *

GOOD GRACIOUS!--Mrs. R. went to Lord's the other day, to see Doctor
GRACE play. She says, "Until then I had no idea he was a man of such
splendid _physic_."

       *       *       *       *       *


_A Colloquy after the Eton and Harrow Cricket Match._

_Old Buffer to Small Boy, solicitously_:--

  Why are you hoarse, my little lad,
    So husky and so hoarse?
  Your voice is almost gone! 'Tis sad!
    You'll seek advice, of course?
  Diphtheria is much about!
    And--well you know, there's cancer!!!
  Dear me, you're choking now! Don't shout,
    But write me down an answer.

_Small Boy to Old Buffer, spasmodically_:--

  Cancer--be blowed!--_Cricket_--of course!
    Harrow--for years--has beaten;
  And--I've been howling till I'm hoarse
    To see 'em--licked by Eton!!!

       *       *       *       *       *


This (says Mr. JAMES PAYN) is what TOM HOOD wrote about the treatment
meted out to the Minor Poet in his time:--

  "What is a Modern Poet's fate?
  To write his thoughts upon a slate--
  The critic spits on what is done,
  Gives it a wipe--and all is gone."

And this (says _Mr. Punch_) is the Minor Poet's reply to-day:--

  I write not on a slate, but foolscap fair:
  It falls to the Waste-paper Basket's care.
  If _not_, the Minor Poet's still ill-fated,
  'Tis by some Minor Critic now he's "slated."
  Far better than that stabber's spiteful lunge,
  Were "a clean slate" and kind oblivion's "sponge."

[Illustration: "THROUGH THE LOCK."]

       *       *       *       *       *


_The Rector (returning from day's fishing--in reply to usual

_Canny Scot (who rather suspects the Rector of a fondness for good

       *       *       *       *       *


  Leave, dweller in the smoke-bound street,
    Your native London's ceaseless noise.
  With aching head and weary feet
    Turn from the town's delusive joys.
  On dusty terrace, grimy square,
    A dismal pall seems settling down;
  Be not the Season's slave, and dare,
    Oh town-bred man, to leave the town.

  The town can spare you; it may chance
    The Park will fill without your aid;
  And still at many a matron's dance
    Moist man will whirl with panting maid.
  Vast dinners still will be as slow,
    The night will still be turned to day,
  And all the giddy round will go
    As wild and well with you away.

  But here the days are passing fair,
    The sun shines bright, the leaves are green;
  Cool on your forehead breathes the air,
    The very smoke seems fresh and clean.
  And over all the winding miles,
    Where erst his foaming torrents ran,
  The clear, calm Thames breaks forth in smiles
    Of welcome to the London man.

  Bend to your oars, away, away!
    Then rest awhile, or deftly steer
  Where topped with rainbow clouds of spray
    The waters tumble o'er the weir.
  Nor scorn the man whom, moored for hours,
    Nor failure daunts nor jeers affront,
  Who sits, unheeding sun or showers,
    A fishless angler in a punt.

  Then, when at eve the ringdove's call
    Is hushed upon the wooded hill,
  And slowly lengthening shadows fall
    On field and stream, and all is still,
  Drift homewards, thanking Heaven that made
    You free to dream awhile your dream
  In this fair scene of sun and shade,
    On gentle Thames's crystal stream.

       *       *       *       *       *


(_To be set to Débutantes who have completed their first Season._)

1. What do you think of London in comparison with the country?

2. Write a short Essay upon your initial ball, giving your impressions
of (1) your partners, (2) your dances, and (3) the supper.

3. Given three dances a night six evenings a week, what will be the
cost of bouquets a quarter?

4. Show how three dresses, with a clever ladiesmaid, and a deposit
account at the Army and Navy Stores, can be made to do duty as a
couple of dozen entirely different gowns.

5. Give a short history of the Opera Season, pointing out any special
features of importance, and estimating the receipts of the Command

6. Give a short biography of any two of the following Society lions:
the Siamese Ambassador.

7. Supply the true stories associated with "the lost opera-glass
at Ascot," "the sun-shade at the garden party," "the ride to the
horse-chestnuts," and "the interrupted honeymoon."

8. Show in a rough sketch the latest mode of shaking hands.

9. Give a brief account of any two of the following Society functions:
(1) The Royal Wedding, (2) the Eton and Harrow match, (3) Sandown,
(4) a first night at the Lyceum, (5) a wedding at St. Peter's, Eaton
Square, and (6) Henley.

10. Correct the mistakes (if any) in the following passage:--"Mr.
ALEXANDER, the Lessee of Drury Lane, appeared at the Haymarket as
_Becket_, in Mr. PINERO'S sparkling comedy of that name. He was
supported by Miss ELLEN TERRY as the _Second Mrs. Tanqueray_, and Lady
MONCKTON as _Portia_--the woman of no importance. After a successful
career of five hundred nights, Becket was transferred to Chicago, with
the cast strengthened by Mrs. BERNARD-BEERE, who consented to
accept, as a mark of respect to the management, the comparatively
insignificant part of _Charley's Aunt_."

11. Give a list of the eligible _partis_ of the season, with their
rent-rolls, distinguishing idiots from sensible men.

12. In conclusion, after four months' hard work at Society functions,
trace the benefit you have derived from your novel surroundings.

       *       *       *       *       *


(_A Supplement for the Newspaper Press._)

_Question._ What is the duty of a Newspaper Proprietor?

_Answer._ To use his periodical for the benefit of the public by
obtaining and affording information.

_Q._ Is he expected to expose abuses?

_A._ Certainly, or he would be thought to be degrading the noble
profession to which he has the honour to belong.

_Q._ What is the customary result of an _exposé_?

_A._ An action for libel.

_Q._ By whom is it frequently brought?

_A._ By a man of straw.

_Q._ And what is the alleged libel?

_A._ That the plaintiff was described as being manufactured of no more
substantial material.

_Q._ If a man is made of straw, how can he obtain assistance from a

_A._ By approaching a member of the junior branch of the legal
profession who possesses no rooted objection to speculation.

_Q._ What is a speculative action?

_A._ It is an action brought to give a solicitor a chance of getting

_Q._ Is the length of trial a matter of importance to the plaintiff?

_A._ Certainly not, because he stands to win one way and not to lose
on the other.

_Q._ What does a long trial mean to the defendant?

_A._ Solicitor's fees by the score and "refreshers" by the dozen.

_Q._ What is the outcome of the proceedings?

_A._ After many days, a verdict.

_Q._ In whose favour?

_A._ The defendant's.

_Q._ Does the defendant benefit in consequence?

_A._ Not at all--the reverse. For after the finding of the jury, he is
at liberty to pay his own costs.

_Q._ Why does he pay his own costs?

_A._ Because his statement that the plaintiff is and was a man of
straw is practically corroborated.

_Q._ But does not the _exposé_ prove that he has done an action
well-deserving of his country?

_A._ Certainly; but this consideration does not give him unmixed

_Q._ Why does it not give him unmixed satisfaction?

_A._ Because, although losing a huge sum of money may be patriotic and
large-minded, it is scarcely business-like.

_Q._ Are not newspapers intended to benefit the public?

_A._ Unquestionably, but in that public the individuality of the
proprietor should not be entirely overlooked.

_Q._ Then what would you recommend?

_A._ That instead of being regarded as prey, newspapers should be made
to pay.

_Q._ And how can that be carried out?

_A._ By making a law calling upon a would-be plaintiff, in a
questionable action for libel, to give security for costs.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: A DELICATE SNUB.

_Sir Pompey Bedell._ "OH--ER--MOSSOO LE BARRONG,

_Monsieur le Baron._ "Do not Sir Pompey, do _not_ continue to speak
French! You speak it so well--ah! But _so_ well--zat you make me feel
quite _'Ome-sick!_"]

       *       *       *       *       *

O WISE YOUNG JUDGE!--Mr. Justice HAWKINS has scored over and over
again during the first act of the ZIERENBERG _v._ LABOUCHERE trial.
One witness in cross-examination said "he thought he could tell people
who were overworked." So Mr. Justice HAWKINS asked him, "Do you see
anybody in this court who looks like being overworked?" Of course the
witness looked straight at the Judge, but Sir HENRY was ready with a
very practical answer to his own question, as he instantly rose to the
occasion and adjourned the case till next day, and from next day till
next term.

       *       *       *       *       *

AT THE T. R. H.--Mr. TREE substituted IBSEN for WILDE. Some evenings
at the T. R. Haymarket may be pleasantly passed, _i.e._, _"Wilde"

       *       *       *       *       *



_House of Commons, Monday, July 17._--"_Et tu, Bowlsey!_" said
GRANDOLPH, a tear glistening on his long eyelashes. Of course he
should have said "_Brute_," but that is not Member for King's Lynn's
name. Remark followed upon incident that ruffled unusually dull
evening. TOMMY was making one of his rare speeches; instructing Chief
Secretary on intricate point in Home-Rule Bill; complaining of an
omission in Amendment under discussion. GRANDOLPH, turning round,
explained to him the bearing of things. Audacious, it is true. "The
attempt," as JEMMY LOWTHER said, "to instruct your grandmother in
the art of imbibing light but nutritious refreshment a slight thing
compared with the temerity of teaching Tommy anything." When he
detected GRANDOLPH in attempt, he for moment fixed him with surprised
stare. Enough in ordinary circumstances to paralyse a rhinoceros.
GRANDOLPH, who from precarious retreat in a tree-top in Central Africa
has watched the noon slumbers of a horde of thirty lions, did not
flinch. Then through the startled House rang TOMMY'S withering rebuke:
"Pray hold your tongue!" an injunction which drew from GRANDOLPH the
pained remark quoted above.

Coming from such a source it was doubly painful. Always understood
that TOMMY founded his Parliamentary style upon GRANDOLPH'S earlier
manner. Whispered that Member for King's Lynn had dreamed a dream of
a new Fourth Party. He of course would play the part of GRANDOLPH;
HANBURY (selected chiefly on account of his height and slimness of
his figure) would stand for Arthur Balfour before he came into his
Princedom. The glories of Gorst would live again in BARTLEY; and TOMMY
had spent sleepless night in doubt as to whether he should enlist
PARKER SMITH or AMBROSE in place of WOLFFY, who now, in distant
Madrid, wears a sombrero, drapes his _svelte_ figure in a cloak, and
interlards his conversation with cries of "_Carramba!_"

This point was decided by curious incident. One afternoon TOMMY came
upon PARKER SMITH conversing with TOMLINSON.

"Don't you think PARKER SMITH'S getting something of a bore?" TOMMY
asked, when that eminent statesman moved away.

[Illustration: "ANGELS IN 'THE HOUSE.'"]

"Now that's very odd indeed," said TOMLINSON. "Just as you came up
PARKER SMITH said to me 'Here comes TOMMY BOWLES; good fellow; means
well; but don't you think he's making himself something of a bore?'"

So PARKER SMITH lost his chance, and perhaps will never know how or
why. Thinking of these things 'tis quaint to find TOMMY turning and
biting the hand which, so to speak, held for him the Parliamentary
bottle. "_Et tu, Bowlsey!_" GRANDOLPH sighed again, thinking of the
days that are no more. "But I ought to have remembered that he who
plays at BOWLES must expect rubbers."

_Business done._--TOMMY declines to make room for his Uncle GRANDOLPH;
even rudely repulses avuncular advances.

_Tuesday._--SEXTON magnanimously relieved Mr. G., JOHN MORLEY, and,
by implication, SQUIRE OF MALWOOD and other Members, from embarrassing
imputation. Sometimes, when gentlemen in PRINCE ARTHUR'S suite have
nothing nastier to say, they sketch lurid pictures of Mr. G. and the
rest drawn at wheels of SEXTON'S chariot. All very well, they say, to
talk of Cabinet Meetings, and statesmanship at Irish Office. The real
boss, as TIM would put it, the arbiter of situation, is SEXTON. When
these things are said, JOHN MORLEY smiles grimly; Mr. G. pretends not
to hear; SQUIRE OF MALWOOD audibly raps fingers on his manly breast;
Liberals cheer ironically; SEXTON blushes, and looks across to see if
JOHN REDMOND is listening.

To-night he feels this thing has gone far enough. There may, perhaps,
be some smattering of truth in it; but its disclosure cannot be
pleasant to his right hon. friends on Treasury Bench. Accordingly
SEXTON rose, and, taking Mr. G. by the hand, as it were, and giving a
finger to JOHN MORLEY, declared that there was no foundation for the
imputation. It was true he had from time to time offered suggestions,
the appositeness and value of which it was not for him to determine.
Occasionally they might have been accepted by the Government. That was
due not to the pressure of dictation, but to the force of reason. Mr.
MORLEY was a statesman not unacquainted with affairs, whilst Mr. G.
had reached an age at which he might be trusted with some share in the
conduct of a Bill. He could assure the House that he was not, in
this matter, dictator. Such a charge was, he added, in burst of
uncompromising self-abnegation, "imbecile."

"And they say," cried WEBSTER, for him unusually mixed, "that Irishmen
have no sense of humour."

_Business done._--SEXTON generously puts Mr. G. right in eyes of

[Illustration: "He declared that there was no foundation for the

_Thursday Night._--Been remarked of late, in quarter behind Front
Opposition Bench, that THEOBALD has appeared preternaturally
preoccupied. Thought he was brooding over the drought, or the
prospects of Home Rule. Secret out to-night. Been concocting a joke;
taken him some time; but, then, consider the quality. Some weeks ago
order issued in Ireland prohibiting hoisting of flags on hotels,
and other private buildings. THEOBALD diligently concentrating his
thoughts upon this fresh iniquity, gradually worked out his joke.
Appeared on paper to-night in shape of question addressed to JOHN
MORLEY. Supposing (so it runs) HER MAJESTY should visit Ireland, and
stay in an hotel, would the Government take measures to legalise the
hoisting of the Royal Standard on the building?

Delightful to watch THEOBALD when he had fired this bolt; fixed his
eye attentively on Mr. G., to see how he took it, the paper in his
hand trembling with excitement. Didn't often make a joke; doesn't
remember a former occasion. Work somewhat exhausting, especially in
hot weather; but when he did take his coat off and set to it must be
admitted he turned out a rare article. All very well for JOHN MORLEY
to affect to make light of the business. Not very probable that when
the QUEEN visited Ireland she would put up at an hotel; a hypothetical
question; deal with the question when it arises, and all the rest of
Ministerial commonplaces. THEOBALD'S shaft had gone home, and when he
saw Mr. G. wince, and SQUIRE OF MALWOOD grow pale, he felt that the
continuous labour of nights and days was rewarded.

"Didn't think I could do it," he said when I warmly congratulated him.
"Not used to that sort of thing, you know. Never know what you can
do till you try. A little hard at first. The thing is to keep pegging
away. Still, I'm glad it's over. Shan't try another this year. Shall
go away now for a bit of a holiday to recruit."

_Business done._--Got through Clauses Home-Rule Bill. Shall begin now
to pick up dropped threads.

_Friday._--Not heard much lately of HENNIKER-HEATON. Compared with
what my dear old friend RAIKES used to suffer from this quarter,
ARNOLD MORLEY'S withers are unwrung. "You've not given up the crusade,
have you?" I asked HENNIKER, meeting him in the Lobby just now.

"No," he said; "I do not mean to rest till not only I get Ocean Penny
Postage, but have introduced at home a smaller but much-needed reform.
Custom here at Christmas is, as I daresay you know, to give postman
present. That I hold to be a criminal reversal of natural course
of events. It's the Post-Office should give its customers a
Christmas-box, as in some places doth the grocer and eke the milkman.
This tax upon the general public on behalf of a department of
the State is another evidence of the grasping disposition of St.
Martin's-le-Grand. I'll be up and at 'em again soon. Fact is, of late
I've had my own troubles. Have mentioned them in letter to _Times_,
so don't mind talking to you on a subject that has brought me from
unknown admirers many expressions of sympathy, the comfort of which
has, it is true, been somewhat lessened by the fact that postage was
unpaid. It's this Australian Bank business. You know the proud motto
of that great Colony beyond the Sea, 'Advance, Australia!' Well,
having lived there sometime, I thought it only polite to fall in with
the suggestion. I advanced Australia a good deal of money in the way
of purchase of bank stock, which has melted away like snow on the
river. CURRAN'S in the same box: but we shall get over this, and you
may bet a shilling postage-stamp to a halfpenny newspaper-cover we'll
Advance Australia no more."

_Business done._--Entered last compartment Home-Rule Bill.

       *       *       *       *       *


A great crowd of theatrical astronomers and star-gazers assembled at
the Lyceum Observatory last Saturday night for the purpose of watching
the movements of the brilliant Lyceum group. HENRY IRVING of the first
magnitude, ELLEN TERRY one of the brightest of the astral bodies, and
the Mars-like TERRIS, with the other lesser brilliancies, all of whom
we shall be unable to reckon as among the "Fixed Stars" until next
Spring, when they shall have returned from their American tour.
Enthusiastic reception from all parts of the House of IRVING-BECKET'S
parting address, which he delivered, standing before the Curtain,
in his monk's habit (one of the old "Orders," "not admitted after
seven"), and wearing the _pallium_, which is the special and peculiar
"property" of the Lyceum See. _Mr. Punch_ wishes them "_Bon voyage_,"
and many happy "returns" after every performance, ending with the
happiest return of all, their reappearance at the Lyceum.

       *       *       *       *       *


_On very Old Models._

_Q._ Why should a MELLOR put on a "considering cap"?--_A._ To keep his
head cool. _Q._ When is a "Chair" not a "Chair"?--_A._ When it is "sat
upon." _Q._ When does the Closure a Premier surprise?--_A._ When he
finds the "Noes" above the "Ayes." _Q._ Where was PEEL when he put the
SEXTON out?--_A._ In a passion. _Q._ Why does an angry Party "cross"
the House?--_A._ To get on the other side.

       *       *       *       *       *

An Unpleasant Paradox.

  That "great conflagration" at "Simmery Axe"
  Brings woe to the burthened with Rate and Tax,
  For it tells him that Rating must still go higher--
  He must "raise the Wind" to keep down the Fire!

       *       *       *       *       *

GOOD LEGAL SECURITIES.--De-Benchers of Lincoln's Inn.

       *       *       *       *       *

Transcriber's Note:

Sundry missing or damaged punctuation has been repaired.

Page 41: 'everthing' corrected to 'everything' ... "You may be sure
the Chief has his own reasons for everything."

       *       *       *       *       *

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