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Title: Punch or the London Charivari, Vol. 98 June 7, 1890
Author: Various
Language: English
As this book started as an ASCII text book there are no pictures available.
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.

*** Start of this Doctrine Publishing Corporation Digital Book "Punch or the London Charivari, Vol. 98 June 7, 1890" ***

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VOLUME 98, JUNE 7TH 1890

_edited by Sir Francis Burnand_





    _Visitors ascending staircase, full of enthusiasm and
    energetic determination not to miss a single Picture,
    encounter people descending in various stages of mental
    and physical exhaustion. At the turnstiles two Friends meet
    unexpectedly; both being shy men, who, with timely notice,
    would have preferred to avoid one another, their greetings are
    marked by an unnatural effusion, and followed by embarrassed

_First Shy Man (to break the spell)._ Odd, our running up against one
another like this, eh?

_Second Shy Man._ Oh, very odd. (_Looks about him irresolutely, and
wonders if it would be decent to pass on. Decides it will hardly do._)
Great place for meeting, the Academy, though.

_First S. M._ Yes; sure to come across _somebody_, sooner or later.

                  [_Laughs nervously, and wishes the other would go._

_Second S. M. (seeing that his friend lingers)._ This your _first_
visit here?

_First S. M._ Yes. Couldn't very well get away _before_, you know.

                  [_Feels apologetic, without exactly knowing why._

_Second S. M._ It's _my_ first visit, too. (_Sees no escape, and
resigns himself._) Er--we may as well go round together, eh?

_First S. M. (who was afraid this was coming--heartily)._ Good! By
the way, I always think, on a first visit, it's best to take a single
room, and do that thoroughly. [_This has only just occurred to him._

_Second S. M. (who had been intending to follow that plan himself)._
Oh, _do_ you? Now, for _my_ part, I don't attempt to see anything
_thoroughly_ the first time. Just scamper through, glance at the
things one oughtn't to miss, get a general impression, and come away.
_Then_, if I don't happen to come again, I've always _done_ it, you
see. But (_considerately_), look here. Don't let me drag you about, if
you'd rather not!

_First S. M._ Oh, but I shouldn't like to feel I was any tie on you.
Don't you mind about me. I shall potter about in here--for hours, I

_Second S. M._ Ah, well (_with vague consolation_), I shall always
know where to _find_ you, I suppose.

_First S. M._ (_brightening visibly_). Oh dear, yes; _I_ shan't be far

    [_They part with mutual relief, only tempered by the necessity
    of following the course they have respectively prescribed for
    themselves. Nemesis overtakes the_ Second S. M. _in the next
    Gallery, when he is captured by a Desultory Enthusiast, who
    insists upon dragging him all over the place to see obscure
    "bits" and "gems," which are only to be appreciated by ricking
    the neck or stooping painfully_.

_A Suburban Lady (to Female Friend)._ Oh dear, _how_ stupid of me! I
_quite_ forgot to bring a pencil! Oh, _thank_ you, dear, that will do
_beautifully_. It's just a _little_ blunt; but so long as I can _mark_
with it, you know. You don't think we should avoid the crush if we
began at the end room? Well, perhaps it _is_ less confusing to begin
at the beginning, and work steadily through.


    _A small group has collected before_ Mr. WYLLIE'S "Davy
    Jones's Locker," _which they inspect solemnly for some time
    before venturing to commit themselves to any opinion_.

_First Visitor (after devoting his whole mind to the subject)._ Why,
it's the Bottom of the Sea--at least (_more cautiously_), that's what
it seems to be _intended_ for.

_Second V._ Ah, and very well done, too. I wonder, now, how he managed
to stay down long enough to paint all that?

_Third V._ Practice, I suppose. I've seen writing done under water
myself. But that was a tank!

_Fourth V. (presumably in profound allusion to the fishes and
sea-anemones)._ Well, they seem to be 'aving it all their own way down
there, don't they? [_The Group, feeling that this remark sums up the
situation, disperses._

_The Suburban Lady (her pencil in full play)._ No. 93. Now what's
_that_ about? Oh, "_Forbidden Sweets_,"--yes, to be sure. _Isn't_ that
charming? Those two dear little tots having their tea, and the kitten
with its head stuck in the jam-pot, and the label and all, and the
sticky spoon on the nursery table-cloth--so _natural_! I really _must_
mark that. (_Awards this distinction._) 97. "_Going up Top._" Yes,
_of course_. Look, LUCY dear, that little fellow has just answered a
question, and his master tells him he may go to the top of the class,
do you _see_? And the big boy looking so sulky, he's wishing he
had learnt his lesson better. I do think it's _so_ clever--all the
different expressions. Yes, I shall _certainly_ mark that!


_The S. L. (doubtfully)._ H'm, No. 156. "_Cloud Chariots_"? Not very
_like_ chariots, though, _are_ they?

_Her Friend._ I expect it's one of those sort of pictures that you
have to look at a long time, and then things gradually come _out_ of
it, you know.

_The S. L._ It may be. (_Tries the experiment._) No, _I_ can't
make _anything_ come out--only just clouds and their reflections.
(_Struggling between good-nature and conscientiousness._) I _don't_
think I _can_ mark that.


_A Matron (before_ Mr. DICKSEE'S "_Tannhäuser_"). "_Venus and
Tannhäuser_"--ah, and is that Venus on the stretcher? Oh, _that's_ her
all on fire in the background. Then which is Tannhäuser, and what are
they all supposed to be doing? [_In a tone of irritation._

_Her Nephew._ Oh, it tells you all about it in the Catalogue--he meets
her funeral, you know, and leaves grow on his stick.

_The Matron (pursing her lips)._ Oh, a _dead person_.

                  [_Repulses the Catalogue severely and passes on._

_First Person, with an "Eye for Art" (before "Pysche's Bath," by the
President)._ Not bad, eh?

_Second Person, &c._ No, I rather like it. (_Feels that he is growing
too lenient._) He doesn't give you a very good idea of marble, though.

_First P. &c._ No--_that's_ not marble, and he always puts too many
folds in his drapery to suit _me_.

_First P. &c._ Just what _I_ always say. It's not natural, you know.
[_They pass on, much pleased with themselves and one another._

_A Fiancé (halting before a sea-scape, by_ Mr. HENRY MOORE, _to
Fiancée_). Here, I say, hold on a bit--what's _this_ one?

_Fiancée (who doesn't mean to waste the whole afternoon over
pictures)._ Why, it's only a lot of waves--_come_ on!

_The Surburban L._ LUCY, _this_ is rather nice. "_Breakfasts for
the Porth!_" (_Pondering._) I think there must be a mistake in the
Catalogue--I don't see any breakfast things--they're cleaning fish,
and what's a "Porth!" Would you mark that--or not?

_Her Comp._ Oh, I _think_ so.

_The S. L._ I don't know. I've marked such a quantity already and
the lead won't hold out much longer. Oh, it's by HOOK, R. A. Then I
suppose it's _sure_ to be all right. I've marked it, dear.

_Duet by Two Dreadfully Severe Young Ladies, who paint a little on
China._ Oh, my _dear_, look at that. Did you ever see such a thing?
Isn't it too perfectly _awful_? And there's a thing! Do come and look
at this horror over here. A "_Study_," indeed. I should just think it
_was_! Oh, MAGGIE, don't be so satirical, or I shall die! No, but
_do_ just see this--isn't it _killing?_ They get worse and worse every
year, I declare! [_And so on._


    (_Two Prosaic Persons come upon a little picture, by_ Mr.
    SWAN, _of a boy lying on a rock, piping to fishes._)

_First P. P._ _That's_ a rum thing!

_Second P. P._ Yes, I wasn't aware myself that fishes were so partial
to music.

_First P. P._ They may be--out there--(_perceiving that the boy is
unclad_)--but it's peculiar altogether--they look like herrings to me.

_Second P. P._ Yes--or mackerel. But (_tolerantly_) I suppose it's a
fancy subject. [_They consider that this absolves them from taking any
further interest in it, and pass on._


_An Old Lady (who judges Art from a purely Moral Standpoint, halts
approvingly before a picture of a female orphan)._ Now, that
really _is_ a nice picture, my dear--a plain black dress and white
cuffs--just what I _like_ to see in a young person!

_The S. L. (her enthusiasm greatly on the wane, and her temper
slightly affected)._ LUCY, I _wish_ you wouldn't worry so--it's quite
impossible to stop and look at _everything_. If you wanted your tea as
badly as _I_ do! Mark that one? What, when they neither of them have a
single _thing_ on! Never, LUCY,--and I'm surprised at your suggesting
it! Oh, you meant the next one? h'm--no, I _can't_ say I care for it.
Well, if I _do_ mark it, I shall only put a tick--for it really is
_not_ worth a cross!


_The Man who always makes the Right Remark._ H'm. Haven't seen
anything I could carry away with me.

_His Flippant Friend._ Too many people about, eh? Never mind, old
chap, you _may_ manage to sneak an umbrella down-stairs--_I_ won't say

    [_Disgust of his companion, who descends stairs in offended
    silence, as scene closes._

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: "EMBARRASSING!"]

       *       *       *       *       *


(_By Mr. Punch's Own Prophet._)

I AM told that many of the millions who have read with delight the
brilliant sporting articles that have appeared from my pen week after
week expect me to utter a few words of seasonable advice as to the
chances of the various animals engaged in the Derby and the Oaks. If I
were one of the chowder-headed numskulls who cackle for hire, the task
would doubtless be an easy one. Mr. J. has performed it yearly with
that magnificent want of success which attends all his addle-pated
efforts. But, praise be to Heaven! I am not Mr. J., or one of his
crew. I am only a humble writer, distinguished alike for his unerring
sagacity, his undeviating accuracy, and his incisive force of
expression. My task is, therefore, stupendous, but I will perform it.


There are many horses in for the Derby. Some people fancy _Surefoot_.
Fancies are not, of course, facts, but the name is good. Keep your
eye on the black and cerise of LIDDIARD. _Sainfoin_ is not generally
supposed to cover grass, but there are generally exceptions. I have
not heard the angels calling _Le Nord_ lately, but they may begin at
any time. A man may get _home_, so may a horse, and I am bound to say
that if I were _The Beggar_ I should give the lie to the crack-brained
puddling proverb, and be a chooser of first place. _Bel Demonio_
should be all there when the first part of his name rings, so that
he may go like the second, if he wants to be one, two, or three.
_Rathbeal_ rhymes to heel. Has he got a clean pair to show? _Orwell_
should score well; and you must never, tie your _Garter_ too tightly,
unless you want to stop your circulation. _Golden Gate_ is not always
as open as might be wished; and _The Imp_ is sometimes a hindrance.
Good old _Polonius_! As for _Kirkham_, _Alloway_, _Martagon_, and
_Loup_, all I can say is, Mum's the word. How about the Field? Monkeys
are often made there. So much for the Derby.


Who said _Semolina_? Passion, passion take advice, fill your pockets
fall of _Semolina_. Ha, ha! _Signorina_ ought certainly not to miss
the mark by more than a mile. _Mémoire_ might do _pour servir_,
and _Goldwing_ sounds well for a flyer. Those who cross the
_Ponza (sinorum)_ generally go further with ease, and _Dearest_ is
certainly superlative. The Field a monkey. Who said that? Whoever he
was, let him beware! That is all I have to say in the meantime, but
anyone desiring further information is requested to apply to me by
letter at the office, enclosing twelve clean stamps for a reply.
All who are not in a state of niddy-noddying, anserous, asinine,
gruel-brained, pumpkin-faced, gooseberry-eyed imbecility, will, of
course, do so.

       *       *       *       *       *

_Executed with Scientific Accuracy and Considerable Restraint of Tone.
(Guildford, May 28.)_]

       *       *       *       *       *

A Shaftesbury Song.

    (AIR--_"With a Doodah!" as sung years ago, with great
    applause, by_ Mr. W. E. GL-DST-NE.)

  OUR Author JONES has come out strong
    With a _Judah_! With a _Judah_!
  Original drama, three Acts long,
      _Judah! Judah!_ pay!
    It's bound to run each night,
      And many a _Matinée_.
  I'll lay my money on the WILLARD nag.
      Ev'ryone will see the play.

       *       *       *       *       *


_Or, The Political Scipio and the East African Charmer._

    "Though the topic of Africa is said to be 'embarrassing and
    inconvenient,' it need not occasion any uneasiness at all;
    but if the British Government surrenders any portion of the
    territory reserved for the sphere of British influence, it may
    become most terribly embarrassing within a measurable period
    of time."--_Stanley's Reply to Lord Salisbury._

STANLEY, _loquitur_:--

  HISTORY repeats itself! Perhaps it may do,
    But "with a difference." The moral Sages
  Think that if anyone holds wisdom, _they_ do;
    But not all sense is stored in pedant's pages.
  Historic parallels, from PLUTARCH downwards,
    Are rather pretty fancies than realities.
  I am no book-worm, have no leanings gownwards.
    And set small store by moralist's banalities.
  To pose as SCIPIO, that pudent Roman,
    So praised by pedagogue POLYBIUS, seemingly
  Pleases a Tory Premier. Well, our foeman
    Won't slumber whilst _we_ choose to doze on dreamingly.
  SCIPIO at New Carthage was a hero
    Of virgin virtue and high generosity;
  But hopes in Africa will fall to zero,
    If "policy" means virtuous pomposity.
  The chaste Proconsul turned his visage blushingly,
    From what with him was personal temptation;
  But what's good rule for one will fall quite crushingly
    If 'tis adopted by a mighty nation.
  SCIPIO, no doubt, was splendid in his modest
    And generous dealings with those Spanish hostages;
  But SALISBURY-SCIPIO? Picture of the oddest!
    Imperial rule is not all Penny Postages,
  Dainty diplomacies, generous concessions
    To Teuton tastes and Hohenzollern fancies;
  Or faith in bland CAPRIVI'S fine professions,
    And wandering WEISSMANN'S roseate romances.
  Kilimi-Njaro, Masai-Land, the Congo,
    Should satisfy your thirst for abnegation;
  And now, methinks, dear Lord, you cannot wrong go,
    If you go in for--let's say "exploitation."
  SCIPIO the Elder was not given to letting
    The Carthaginians get too much the best of him.
  Now on the Teuton it is even betting;
    To squeeze you north, or south, or east, or west of him.
  Out of the Congo State on the west border,
    Out of the Southern Soudan on his north one!
  By Jove, my Lord, that seems a biggish order!
    To stop it needs some struggle, and 'tis worth one.
  That poor East African Company's affronted,
    While Iron-clads and soldiers help the Teuton.
  _Must_ they then be from the Nyanza shunted,
    And _must_ I all their miseries be mute on,
  Because plain speech is what you call "embarrassing."
    Because unto the Teuton you're so tender?
  Must Englishmen in Africa stand harassing,
    And stoop to a calm policy of Surrender,
  And all that a proud Premier at Hatfield
    May play the SCIPIO--in this feeble fashion?
  My Lord, we did not win our spurs in _that_ field.
    Upon my soul, it puts me in a passion;
  And not me only, but, as you'll discover,
    A lot of Englishmen who watch this drama.
  SCIPIO was not an indiscriminate lover,
    But it was he licked HANNIBAL at Zama.
  I bring you, SCIPIO, the East Afric beauty
    Captured and chained, but opulent and charming.
  You turn away! From sacred sense of duty?
    From fear of your (political) virtue harming?
  No! SCIPIO seemed ruled by honour's laws
    When to the captured beauty he was lenient,
  You turn away, sham SCIPIO, because
    She seems "embarrassing and inconvenient!"

       *       *       *       *       *


    [Messrs. SPIERS AND POND say in a letter in _The Daily
    Telegraph_, that "bottled beer is really what the great
    majority of the public want when they are out for a holiday."]

  MENTION not the wines of Medoc, nor the vintage of Bordeaux,
  Or the Burgundy that rivals e'en the ruby in its flow;
  Though the growers of Epernay and the merry men of Rheims,
  Pour champagne that holds the sunlight in exhilarating streams;
  There's a finer nobler tipple, that the Briton's heart doth cheer,
  And he clings with fond affection to his draught or bottled beer.

  Amber Rudesheimer charms us wandering by the haunted Rhine,
  Sparkling Hock near Ehrenbreitstein is a mighty pleasant wine;
  In agreement with the German we have vowed we loved full well,
  To behold the bubbles flashing on a goblet of Moselle;
  But the Briton hugs his tankard, and would count the man an ass
  Who held not in highest honour nectar from the vats of BASS.

  Port is worthy of acceptance, once men made the bottle spin;
  Sherry hath a welcome flavour when the filberts have come in:
  Scotsmen have been seen imbibing in the mountains of the north,
  What is known as whiskey-toddy in the lands beside the Forth:
  But the Englishmen will tell you that for really sterling worth--
  BASS'S beer can beat all liquids that were ever made on earth.

       *       *       *       *       *



_To the Chief Commissioners of Works, The Ditto of Police, and to
"George" Ranger._

WHY not open up rides in Kensington Gardens? Say one good one under
the trees from South-West to North-West, and connect Kensington with
Bayswater? Will any benefactor to unfortunate Metropolitan Equestrians
force this North-West passage?

There is a meagre ride at the side of the road in the Inner
Circle, Regent's Park. Why not a good ride right across Park? From
considerable observation and experience of Kensington Gardens and
Regent's Park, it may be confidently asserted, that such rides as are
here proposed, would not interfere with the comfort of a single (or
married) nurse or governess with children in her charge. Both places
are comparatively unfrequented, and the proposed rides would not
infringe upon the recreation of the London boys.

We strongly recommend the Chief Commissioner to visit Paris, and,
mounted upon a comfortable horse, let him make the acquaintance of the
delightful _sentiers_ laid out as rides in the Bois de Boulogne. This
will be a first-rate French exercise for him, and he will learn a
great deal from it. The DUKE, who is fond of equitation, especially
in Battersea Park, must admit that the equestrians of London are very
badly off for variety. Up and down Rotten Row, once into the siding by
the Barracks, once to the dismal ride on the North side, and once back
again by the ride that opens on to the Mausoleum-like Magazine,--which
of all London Magazines is the dreariest,--this, and only this, is the
daily burden of the patient London rider's song. "How long? How long?"
as Mr. WILSON BARRETT used to be always exclaiming in _The Silver
King_, or _Claudian_, or both. How long--will mounted London put up
with this, which is the reverse of a merry-go-round?

Then we have to be thankful for the small mercy of a narrow strip of a
ride, barely room for one, along Constitution Hill, and for that other
strip, a trifle wider, in Birdcage Walk, which is always crowded with
children, and one might as well be riding through nursery grounds. Why
shouldn't there be here a cut right across the grass, from The Walk of
the Birdcages to middle of Piccadilly?

If GEORGE RANGER, the Chief Commissioner of Police, and the Chief of
the Board of Works would combine, we might get something done which
would benefit the riders--riders haggard and jaded--and materially
assist the smallest circulation (possessed by those who ride to live)
in the world. There is one thing that ought to be put down, and put
down with a strong hand,--and that is plenty of gravel at all the
gates; but especially round and about the Marble Arch, which is a most
dangerously slippery pass.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: THE "SILK" EXHIBITION.


       *       *       *       *       *


_Or, What it may probably come to._

THAT the new Legislation has begun to tell favourably on the conduct
of the traffic of the leading lines cannot for a moment be doubted
after glancing at the thirteenth Bi-weekly Record, published at the
Companies' expense, according to the Provisions of the recent Act, on
the back of all their passenger-tickets. It is satisfactory to note
how, in something like six weeks, punctuality in the train service
seems really almost established, the only train arriving one minute
late being one of the Edinburgh Expresses, of which the boiler of the
engine blew up at Grantham, thereby causing a little delay, which,
however, was picked up before the conclusion of the run by extra
steaming. The heavy penal system which the new Legislation has
introduced, is, of course, answerable for this delightful change; but
a glance at the following table for the six weeks since the Act has
come into operation, will show how effectively and rapidly it has

               Trains  Chairmen   Directors  Station    Other
               late.   put        sentenced  Masters    Officials
                       in Irons.  to Penal   sentenced  sent
                                  Servitude. to Hard    to Gaol
                                             Labour.    and Fined.
First week   | 1725 |   9       |   95    |    192   | 2004
Second, Do.  |    3 |   1       |    3    |     17   |  143
Third, Do.   |    2 |  ..       |    2    |     11   |   88
Fourth, Do.  |    1 |   1       |    1    |      3   |   15
Fifth, Do.   | .... |  ..       |    1[A] |     ..   |   ..
Sixth, Do.   |    1 |   1       |    2    |      5   |   10

[Footnote A: Precautionary sentence.]

The list of officials, as furnished in the above Schedule, undergoing
their various periods of punishment, is an encouraging sign to the
travelling public, and it is satisfactory to notice that the old
unpunctuality that marked the first week, followed up as it was _by a
rigorous application of the new law_, instantly disappeared as if
by magic, when the Companies began really to understand their
responsibilities and their penalties under the new Act. It is
confidently, therefore, to be hoped, that next week's record may
possibly be an entirely clean one, and that, _the only method of
ensuring punctuality_, namely, the infliction of a penalty on the
Authorities who can control it, may be found in practice to be
entirely successful.

       *       *       *       *       *

SUGGESTION GRATIS.--Why doesn't some enterprising publisher engage
Sergeant PALMER of the 19th Knowles's Century Powder Magazine to
write a Military Romance? There has been nothing of the sort worth
mentioning since CHARLES LEVER. The Sergeant could write under the
_nom de guerre_ of _Micky Free, Redivivus_.


       *       *       *       *       *

_Q._ If several Householders who love peace and quietness on Sunday,
should combine to put down the Salvation Army's so-called singing,
what Mountains would they resemble?--_A._ The Hymn Allayers.

       *       *       *       *       *


[Illustration: Marguérite Nordica Slybootzen coming home from church.]

_Monday, May 26._--Faust. Faust-rate performance as far as JACK and
NED DE RESZKÉ are concerned. Madame NORDICA is far too knowing a
_Marguérite_. The simple _Faust_, just beginning life, is evidently
no match for this guileless young lady. Being "no match for her"
is probably the reason for his not marrying her. NORDICA charming
vocally, but dramatically there is too much of the _Becky Sharp_ about
her, and she is merely in a plot with _Martha_ to let in the rich and
spoony Juggins called _Faust_. New man, FRANCESCHETTI, as _Valentine_,
not quite the thing: perhaps nervous seeing DAN DRADY in front looking
at him. Good house for Whit Monday, though of course The Brilliancies
are absent. Choruses excellent. What capital match-boxes the old
men in the Old Men's Chorus would make! Good contrast between Mlle.
BAUERMEISTER as _Martha_, and NED DE R. as _Mephistopheles_.

_Tuesday._--Glorious Opera, _Les Huguenots_; French title with Italian
names, such as _Valentina_, _Margherita di Valois_, _Urbano_,
&c. First appearance of Monsieur Ybos. _Why Boss?_ Always thought
DRURIOLANUS was Boss of this Show. Better change name to _Y-not-bos_,
and the answer will come from DRURIOLANUS himself, "Iboss." Monsieur
YBOS belongs to the school of Signor VIBRATO. Energetic but too angry
with _Valentina_, when she confesses that she loves him. ELLA RUSSELL
magnificent as sleeveless _Queen_. NED DE RESZKÉ the best possible
_Marcello_. As DRURIOLANUS, dropping into poetry, observes--

  He is the very best _Marcello_,
  With a voice like the deepest violoncello.

Monsieur DUFRICHE as _San Bris_, "quite the _brie_," or cheese. Madame
TETRAZZINI a dramatic _Valentina_. DAN DRADY a first-rate _Conte di
Nevers-too-late-to-mend_. Curfew-Watchman in perfect tune. Soldiers'
rataplanatory chorus very nearly perfection at finish, though starting
shakily. Little PALLADINO danced so delightfully as even to bewitch
the Hug-me-not soldiers. I've seen this Opera any number of times, and
I have been at considerable trouble and expense to master the plot.
An idea strikes me. I shall publish _Examination Papers on Popular
Operas_. What the prize will be for the one who answers correctly from
memory, without reference to any _libretto_, is a matter for further
consideration. Here is a specimen of examination paper on the

ACT I.--Why is _Raoul_ blindfolded?

What is _Miss Valentine_ doing in somebody else's house?

Why does _Raoul's_ servant come in and sing a hymn?

Why is he apparently pleased when _Raoul_ is blindfolded and taken

ACT. II.--Account for the dresses of the bathing-women who come in and
dance before the Queen. Where are the machines?

What is the Page's song, "_No, no, no, no!_" about?

[Illustration: _Raoul di Nangis Ybos._ "'Tu m'ami!' How dare you!
'_Tu_ m'ami!' I can't tell you how angry I am with you. I'll _vibrato_

[_Shakes himself, and her at the same time._]]

Is _Raoul_ in love with the Queen, or the Queen with _Raoul_? In
either case account reasonably for the subsequent conduct of each of

What is the Queen singing about at commencement of Act?

ACT III.--What is _Valentine_ doing out in the streets, in a
wedding-dress, late at night?

Why do the women turn their backs on the church when they kneel in the
streets to say their prayers? Is there no more kneeling-room inside
the church? If so, why are people still being admitted while the women
are kneeling outside? What service should you say was going on?

Where do the Maritanas with tambourines all come from? And why?
Are they the bathing-women in another costume? If so, show their
connection with the plot.

After the curfew has sounded, and a man with a lantern has sent
everyone to bed, why do all the people suddenly come out of bed again,
every one of them all dressed and ready for anything?

What is the Queen doing riding about the town at night on a white

ACT IV.--Don't you think the Conspirators are very simple-minded
people, not to look behind the curtain where _Raoul_ is hidden? What
have the nuns to do with the blessing of the daggers? Wouldn't they be
rather in the way in a conspiracy?

On what storey does the action of Act IV. take place, and what is the
height from the ground that _Raoul_ has to leap when he jumps out of
the window?

There used to be a Fifth Act, with a grand _trio_ and _chorale_,
what has become of it? If played, does anyone stop to hear it? If not
played, can audience sue the management, or demand their money back?

[Illustration: Unexpected effect. Sudden appearance of representative
of Katti Lanner.]

_Thursday._--Memorable for two _rentrées_ and one first appearance.
_Rentrée_ of Madame ETELKA GERSTER, _rentrée_ of RAVELLI, and first
appearance, on stage, this season, of Covent Garden Cat. Trying
position for the sleep-walking heroine in bed-room scene, when the
Covent Garden Cat (who was in front last Tuesday night, when she ran
round the ledge of the pit tier in humble imitation of little LAURIE
at Pantomime time) suddenly rushes from under the bed, and after
nearly frightening into fits naughty little LISA BAUERMEISTER, who
happens to be hiding there, walks with tail erect quietly across
the stage, and makes a good exit R. 2. E. Count EDOUARD, in
commencement-of-nineteenth-century hat and coat, finished off with
trousers and patent-leather boots of date A.D. 1890, much amused.
_Amina_ supposed to be walking in her sleep, can't possibly take
notice of animal, but House in chuckles, as an audience always is,
whenever the harmless and quite unnecessary cat appears upon the
stage. _Rentrée_ of RAVELLI, in first-rate voice. Everyone charmed
with him, and with NED DE RESZKÉ. Signor RINALDINO an amusing
_Alessio_, and Madame SINICO tunefully affectionate as the devoted and
sympathetic Mamma of the Aminable heroine. Melodies of our childhood,
delightful to hear them again; and the good old-fashioned Italian
Opera terminations to the choruses admirably rendered.

_Friday._--"_Dr. Faust_, I presume?" I wasn't there. Opera went on, I
believe, in my absence.

_Saturday._--_La Traviata._ ELLA RUSSELL at her best. Tenor MONTARIOL
not quite at his best as that despicable character _Alfredo_. M.
PALERMINI (why not "Old Pal"?) very good as _Giorgio Germont_. The
magnificently-attired chorus enjoy themselves amazingly at supper in
Act I., for _Violetta_, when she does do the thing, does it well, and
there are certainly not less than four bottles of champagne among a
hundred guests.

_Questions for Examination Paper._--At whose house does this
supper-party take place? Why do all the guests leave at once? Why is
everyone in a Charles the Second costume except _Violetta_, who is
in fashionable evening dress of 1890? Who is the young lady whom
_Violetta_ so affectionately kisses? and what, if anything, has she to
do with the plot?

_In Act III._--Is it a _bal masqué_? If not, what is it, and where?
What is the simple game of cards which _Alfredo_ plays with such
enthusiasm? Who wins? and how much?

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: CAUTION.



       *       *       *       *       *



  OUR Stable's a bit out of form
    (Says more than one usual backer),
  The pace will be made pretty warm,
    And the finish will be a rare cracker.
  By Jove! we must put our best goods in the front,
  Or possibly we may be out of the hunt.


  Come, Sir, don't go talking like that!
    Cantankerous critics will chatter.
  Our 'osses can go a rare "bat,"
    Theirs funk it, Sir! _That's_ what's the matter!
  Eh, RITCHIE, my boy? Oh, the crack that you ride
  Will _go_, when he once settles into his stride.


  My opinion's of little account,
    But I don't mind admitting, yer honour,
  I am _not_ dead nuts on my mount.
    Some say he's as good as a goner.
  Though the Witlers are on him, of course, to a man,
  His own brother warn't placed the one time as he ran.


  The _Brother Bung_ stock, _entre nous_,
    All show soft, when it comes to close racing.
  This horse looks a bit of a "screw,"--
    There, GOSCHEN, no need for grimacing.
  I mean no offence; he's well trained, and _might_ win;
  But--well, backers seem cautious in planking their tin.


  Humph! Pencillers _have_ been at work;
    They'll muck the nag's chance, if they're able.
  Fatty CAINE--the fanatical shirk!--
    Seems inclined to abandon the Stable.
  But still _Compensation's_ a horse to my mind.
  He will finish with fewer before than behind.


  Ah! but that's not quite good enough, G.
    Just now what we want's a clear winner.
  Our new string of cracks numbers three;
    There's _Tithe_ (who's a timid beginner),
  _Land Purchase_, a nailer, and this, your pet nag.
  The question is, which is the best of the bag?

  _Land Purchase_, now, comes of sound stock
    (By _Tenant-Right_ out of _Coercion_),
  And then I've such faith in his Jock!
    Nay, RITCHIE, I mean no aspersion.
  You ride very nicely indeed for a "pup;"
  But BALFOUR! All's right when the cry's "ARTHUR'S Up!"


  Oh! he's a fair scorcher, a brick,
    With the long legs--and luck--of the "Tinman."
  But when of the mounts you've the pick,
    It's hard if you can't score a win, man.
  You stick me on _Land Purchase_, guv'nor, and see
  If the "pup," as you call him, ain't in the first three!


  Ah, there it is, GOSCHEN, you know;
    That justifies what I was saying.
  I fancy this animal's slow,
    Not sure that his specialty's staying.
  I think, if we value our Stable--and tin--
  That we should declare with _Land Purchase_ to win.

                                         [_Left discussing it._

       *       *       *       *       *


To go to Epsom with a view to a day's enjoyment.

To imagine that there is any sport on the road down, and ditto

To believe that a heavy lunch of lukewarm lobster salad and simmering
champagne can be taken with impunity.

To fancy that one can get into a train bound for the Downs without
losing one's temper.

To think that there is any fun in listening to the ribald songs of
street nigger minstrels and Shoreditch gipsies.

To expect that, after taking part in half a dozen drag sweeps, any one
of them will turn up trumps.

To presume that you will neither be choked with dust nor drenched with
rain before you get home.

Lastly, to back the Winner for £10,000, payable by the Bank of
England, to draw the right number at all the West-End Clubs to which
you belong, becoming in consequence betrothed to the only and lovely
daughter of a millionnaire Duke, and then (on waking) to find it all a

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: "DOUBTFUL!"


       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: A WARNING IN WAX.



       *       *       *       *       *


    "I am wearing a pair of Co-operative trousers."--_Lord
    Rosebery, at Congress of Delegates from the Co-operative
    Societies of Great Britain and Ireland, meeting at Glasgow._

  TALK of Dual Garmenture! Here's a picture, to be sure,
    That a pleasanter, more potent lesson teaches.
  Croakers given to foolish fright might take courage at the sight
    Of Lord ROSEBERY'S Co-operative Breeches!
  For our Earl's a canny chief, and the timidest must feel
    That by what he advocates no sort of hurt is meant;
  And if anybody wants true co-operative pants,
    He'll be glad to read Lord ROSEBERY'S advertisement.
  Co-operation now frightens very few, I trow,
    (Who wear trousers); but a few years earlier? Bless us!
  Such breeks would have been bogies to a lot of frightened fogies,
    They would just as soon have donned the shirt of Nessus.
  Now an Earl to Glasgow goes, 'midst the men once thought our foes,
    And about Co-operation learns--and also teaches;
  And receives with genial glee from the Tweed Society
    A pair of Tweed Co-operative Breeches!
  Why eighty-six per cent. (at Clackmannan) are intent,
    (Nearly nine-tenths of all its population),
  In a fashion fair as stout, upon fully working out
    The principles of true Co-operation.
  Yet there are no earthquakes there, and Lord ROSEBERY in the chair
    At the Congress of Co-operative Delegates,
  Talks in tones of hearty cheer, and the very thought of fear
    To a Limbo Fatuorum calmly relegates.
  Members One million men, with a capital of _Ten_,
    And an annual sale of close on _Thirty Seven_!
  Two millions more each year! Yes, it's truly pretty clear
    That the State feels the co-operative leaven.
  And though it is mere hum to see the Millennium,
    Because Co-operators cheerfully co-operate,
  Yet it _is_ a mighty movement, and our hopes of Earth's improvement
    May rise with it, at a prudent and a proper rate.
  Pooh! the pessimistic dreams of pragmatical Earl WEMYSS
    May well excite this sager Earl's derision.
  Forty Millions total profit! No, we are _not_ nearing Tophet,
    Any more than we are touching realms Elysian.
  Those on Co-Ops so sweet and shopkeepers need not treat
    Each other like the cats of old Kilkenny,
  From each other they might learn, live together and all turn,
    With sagacity and skill, an honest penny.
  There's no need for any gush, but "The Principle" will push
    As Lord ROSEBERY foreshadows to high places;
  And it was not all his fun when he hinted we might run
    Our Empire on co-operative bases!
  They who want to understand what is stirring in the land,
    Should peruse PRIMROSE'S pithiest of speeches,
  Meanwhile _Punch_ drinks good health to the "Labourer's Commonwealth,"
    And long wear to those Co-operative Breeches!

       *       *       *       *       *


_Monday._--Preparing for the Derby. Mr. STANLEY goes out of his way to
meet Lord SALISBURY. Lord SALISBURY goes out of Mr. H. M. S's. way.

_Tuesday._--More preparations for Derby.

_Wednesday._--The Derby. _Mr. Punch_ out for the day. Party at Foreign
Office to meet Mr. STANLEY unavoidably postponed.

_Thursday._--Trying to recover from Derby Day.

_Friday._--Private Eclipse of the Sun. For tickets to view, inquire
at Timekeeper's Office, Charing Cross. Only a limited number will be

_Saturday._--Lord SALISBURY'S first dance to meet Mr. STANLEY.

       *       *       *       *       *

SOCIAL festivities which were much disturbed by the Whitsuntide
holidays, have now been resumed in all their splendour. The Mile
End Athenæum yesterday held their annual reception in the palatial
institution designed for the accommodation of the intellectual
_élite_ of the district. The rooms were crowded from an early hour.
Proceedings began with an address on "The Æsthetic Position of Mile
End," delivered by the President. This was followed by some graceful
step-dancing, executed by two stars from the neighbouring Hall
of Variety. Later on the guests, having, as is usual, exchanged
over-coats, and tossed with the Club halfpenny for umbrellas,
separated to their homes.

       *       *       *       *       *

Lady CLEMENTINA CROPPER has issued cards for a musical evening at
which all the most eminent performers are expected. The Whistling
Quintette and the Whispering Choir have been engaged. Her Ladyship's
parties are famous for the animation and brilliancy of their

       *       *       *       *       *

It is understood that the Stewards of the Jockey Club at their last
meeting resolved to suppress the use of all strong language on Derby
Day. Any owner discovered in the act of saying "blow" will be confined
to barracks for a fortnight. Anything more violent will involve
perpetual suspension, with the loss of all the privileges of a British
Citizen. Any jockey denouncing his neighbour's eyes will be converted
into an automatic toffee-distributor. If he repeats the offence, he
will be forbidden to vote at the next County Council Election. These
salutary regulations will be strictly enforced.

       *       *       *       *       *

The Railway Companies anticipate no difficulty in conveying visitors
to Epsom within two hours of the time fixed for their arrival. Much
interest attaches to some novel experiments in shunting, which are
to be carried out between Epsom and London to-day. The point is to
discover whether an excursion train loaded with passengers at the
rate of thirty to a carriage designed for eight, can be shunted into
a siding so as to clear an express moving at a constant velocity of
fifty miles an hour, drinks included. The pace of the excursion train
may be neglected in the solution of the problem.

       *       *       *       *       *

"I have never understood," says a Correspondent, who signs himself
"PUZZLED," "why a dog should always use his left hind-leg for the
purpose of scratching his left ear, and _vice versâ_ his right leg for
his right ear. Can any of your readers enlighten me?"

       *       *       *       *       *


[Illustration: No. 180. Littler and Littler.]

[Illustration: No. 36. W. Qrious Jaundiceson, R.A.]

[Illustration: No. 140. "Mr. Stanley, I presume?"]

[Illustration: No. 102. Marvellous Acrobatic Feat.]

[Illustration: No. 109. The Dairy Maid and the Butteries.]

       *       *       *       *       *


TOLD that I can "assist the progress of Military Science" if I go up
in a "War Balloon" at Chelsea. Don't know anything about ballooning,
but do want to assist Military Science.

Arrive at Chelsea Exhibition Grounds. See the Balloon being inflated.
Disappointed, as a "War Balloon" seems to be exactly the same as a
Peace Balloon. Expected it to be armour-plated, or fitted with aërial
torpedoes, or something of that sort. Ask Professional Aëronaut if I
mayn't take a bomb up with me, and drop it, as practice for war time?
Aëronaut scowls fiercely. Asks, "If I want to blow the Balloon to
smithereens?" Also asks, "If I have any bombs about me now?" Looks as
if he would like to search me! Drop the subject--not the bomb. Still,
I _should_ like to know how I can "assist Military Science." Take my
place in car nervously.

Somebody shouts, "Let go!" What an extraordinary sensation! Feel as if
I had suddenly left digestive portion of my anatomy a mile below me.
Have felt same sort of thing in crossing Channel. Look over edge
of car. Appalling! Wish I hadn't been such a fool as to come. Ask
Professional Aëronaut, "What would happen if a rope broke now?"
He replies, sulkily, "your neck would break too." Not comforting.
Question is--How long will this last without my being sea-sick?

Also, How am I "assisting progress of Military Science?" Balloon
calmer, and _not_ wobbling, thank Heaven! Begin to enjoy the view. How
beastly cold it is up here, though! Passing over St. Paul's--suggest
to fellow passenger that with a bomb, or better still a pistol, one
could "pot" the Dome. Passenger (funny man) says, "Why not try a
para_shoot_?" I laugh heartily, and nearly fall over side. Aëronaut,
roughly, "wishes to goodness I'd keep still." _I_ wish to goodness
he'd make the Balloon keep still--don't say this, however.

Somewhere over Essex. See distant sea. Aëronaut says, "There's no end
of a wind springing up." Heavens! Believe we are drifting out to
sea! But I didn't want to "assist progress of _Naval_ Science"--only
"Military." Tell Aëronaut this. He says, he's "just going down." Talks
as if he were "going down" to breakfast--after "getting up," as we
have done! Rather a good joke for mid-air. But is it mid-air? We are
descending rapidly. Digestion this time left up in clouds. Tearing
along over fields. Balloon pitching and tossing violently. Grapnel
thrown out. Catches a cow. Cow runs with us. Idiot! Why can't it stand

Awful crash! Bump, bang, whack! Balloon explodes with fearful report.
Yet no reporters present! Remember nothing more. Wake up, and find
myself in Hospital of an Essex town. Query--Have I, or have I not,
"assisted the progress of Military Science?"

       *       *       *       *       *


_The Marsh King's Daughter._ One of WARNE & CO.'S publications for
children's amusement, but the illustrations by JESSIE CURRIE are
too highly curried, or rather coloured, and the effect is hard and
theatrical. By the way, Miss CURRIE'S genius is a trifle wilful;
for example, take this situation, which she has chosen to
illustrate,--"She ... pointed to a horse. He mounted upon it, and she
sprang before him, and held tightly by the mane." Now, asks the Baron,
taking for granted the "sprang" is for "sprang up," how would ordinary
talent depict this scene? Why, certainly, by showing the girl mounted
on the horse, holding on by the mane in front of the man, and the man
up behind. Not so Miss CURRIE. She puts the good man--apparently
an Amateur Monk--astride the horse, and she riding behind, holding
lightly as it appears, with one hand the broad red crupper, and, with
the other, probably, some portion of the Amateur Monk's dressing-gown.
But genius must not be fettered.

_Æsop Redivivus_ is delightful, if only for the reappearance of the
quaint old woodcuts--some of which, however, the Baron is of opinion,
never belonged to the original edition--yet, with a polite bow to
MARY BOYLE, he would venture to observe that, in his opinion, the
revivification is an excellent idea rather thrown away. Whether it
would have been better for more or less Boyleing, he is not absolutely
certain, but perhaps the notion required a somewhat different
treatment. The best of the fables is _The Sly Stag_, which, according
to the woodcut, ought to have been a goat. But there may be some
subtle humour in the frequent incongruity between a fable and its
pictorial illustration.


       *       *       *       *       *

GRANDOLPH VICTORIOUS.--Rather fresh Easterly-windy weather for racing,
last week; glad, therefore, to hear that GRANDOLPH "had a lot on." His
_Abbesse de Jouarre_ was not to be stopped by any _Father Confessor_,
and came in first. What will he name his next probable starter? _John

       *       *       *       *       *

RECENT letters to _The Times_ represent Tangiers to English tourists
as the most Tangierble point for a holiday trip.

       *       *       *       *       *




       *       *       *       *       *


_To the Editor of "Punch."_

DEAR SIR,--You have on many occasions honoured me by inserting my
contributions, and consequently it is to you I turn in the present
difficulty. A few days since an appeal was made in the columns of one
of your contemporaries which it is hard to resist.

_À propos_ of the Talleyrand Autobiography a gentleman, who had given
some extracts therefrom, wrote--"What I have quoted shows the charm
and interest of the work, but does not discount its publication;
and this, I hope, will be enough to enforce on the custodians of the
Memoirs the obligation of reflection before continuing to suppress
and to frustrate the legitimate curiosity of the public." I have
reflected, and, without making any admission, I submit that possibly
the following passages may attain the end which the gentleman in
question seemingly suggests.

When TALLEYRAND, in 1801, was at Amiens, assisting JOSEPH BONAPARTE
in conducting negotiations with Lord CORNWALLIS for the final
ratification of peace, he had an interview with the representative of
England. I give a translation from a paper in my possession:--

    "It was already the everlasting opposition of maritime and
    manufacturing towns that prevented this consummation.
    When Milor (CORNWALLIS?) observed, with insular bluntness
    (_bonhomie_), 'The outcome will be a new throne (_encore
    une chaise bien décoré_) for J. B.' I replied, 'This will
    certainly not be to the advantage of Son Altesse JOSEPH (_pas
    pour Josê_).'"

Does not this read as if written yesterday? Five years later
TALLEYRAND entered into a direct communication with Fox by letter, and
this led to a personal interview with Lord YARMOUTH. I make a second

    "I told Mister-for-laughter (_esquire pour rire_) that there
    would be no difficulty in restoring to England Hanover,
    which was then in possession of Prussia. The Englishman
    (_l'Anglais_), who had been imbibing some generous wine (_vin
    ordinaire à dix sous_), stammered out that he considered the
    suggestion piscatorial. 'Milor,' I retorted, with a polite
    bow, 'to a YARMOUTH accustomed to bloaters all things must
    appear fishy!'"

Considering TALLEYRAND'S flexible mind, and the ease with which he
resigned himself to blunders when they did not seem to him dangerous,
this judgment, expressed with surprising emphasis, is the most
striking condemnation which can be passed on the tone adopted by the
British negotiator. With rare skill TALLEYRAND avoids the dryness
usual to memoirs of a personal character. As an instance of this,
I give a description of the desertion by the wily diplomatist of
NAPOLEON in 1814, when the Emperor had consented to retire to
Elba. That this passage may have additional force, I give it in the
original, possibly very original, French:--

    "Je n'aime pas lui. Je pensais de cet homme qu'il était un
    espèce de polichinelle (_a quaint sort of puppet_), qu'il
    n'était pas la valeur de son sel (_not the value of his
    salt_), et voilà la raison pourquoi je lui vende (_why I
    offered him for sale_). Il n'a pu supporter la bienfaisance
    avec satisfaction, ni les choses bien désagréables avec

"He could not bear the things that were disagreeable with
complacency." Volumes might be written on that phrase, which at this
moment, if we look around us, suggests numerous parallel instances.
I have heard a man growl when a plate of soup has been poured by a
careless waiter on his dress waistcoat, I have noticed a lady frown
when I have myself accidentally torn her train from its body, by
treading upon it at an evening party. TALLEYRAND knew NAPOLEON--"He
could not bear the things that were disagreeable with complacency!"
And yet BONAPARTE is sometimes called "_Le Grand_!" (The Great!)

Here I pause, as I feel that I may have already gone too far. It is
not for me to say how the document from which I have quoted, came into
my possession. But before I satisfy the legitimate curiosity of the
public further, I consider it my professional duty to consult the Bar
Committee, the Council of the Incorporated Law Society, the President
of the Probate, Divorce, and Admiralty Division of the High Court of
Justice, and the LORD CHANCELLOR, many of whom are unfortunately still
absent, enjoying the Whitsuntide Vacation. I have the honour to be,
dear Sir,

Your most obedient Servant,

  (_Signed_)       A. BRIEFLESS, JUNIOR.

  _Pump-handle Court, June 2nd, 1890._

       *       *       *       *       *



How a few hundred pounds may be easily and honestly earned is a
problem which daily exercises the imaginations of thousands. I was
fortunate enough to hit upon a plan which I now feel it to be my duty
to make as widely known as possible for the benefit of those whose
need is greater than mine; for, curiously enough, not only did my
work bring me in that direct emolument, upon which I not unwarrantably
reckoned, but an elderly lady of unstable views was so taken with
the chaotic benevolence of my book, that she bequeathed to me a very
handsome legacy indeed, and almost immediately enabled me to realise
it. Thus does the absolutely unexpected serve as the handmaid of the
perfectly unintended, and enterprise retires from the lodgings of
struggle to the villa of repose. My plan briefly was to write a
quasi-religious Novel with a Purpose. I knew nothing about religion,
and had no literary experience, but the purpose I had, and that
purpose was, to make enough money to spend six weeks at Herne Bay, a
locality to which I am passionately addicted.

A brief sketch of my proceedings will be the best explanation and
guide to others. I first bought a sixpenny scrap-album, a pot of
paste, and a pair of strong scissors; and a shillingsworth of penny
novelettes of various kinds and dates, and a shillingsworth of cheap
manuscript-paper completed my outlay. I then took the goods home and
got to work. Glancing through the pile of novelettes, I soon found an
opening that struck me as most suitable, cut it out, and pasted it in
the scrap-book. Now came the chief literary exercise of my task. I had
to go carefully through the passage, changing the names of the places
and people, and making a few necessary substitutions, _e.g._,
"The cuckoo was calling, and the dove cooing from the neighbouring
woodland," would stand in my version "The cuckoo was cuckooing, and
the dove calling from the adjacent thicket," while a sky described
as "azure" in the original, would figure as "lapis lazuli," or, even

The introduction safely engineered, I took another novelette from the
pile, and holding it firmly in the left hand, I grasped the scissors
with the thumb and forefinger of the right, cut three or four extracts
at random, of rather more than half a column in length, and pasted
these in the album, leaving about space enough for a couple of pages
of three-volume novel, between each section.

Thus I dealt with my twelve novelettes, and then went through them
again, and even again. Then the hard work began. I had to draw up
a list of names of my own, and then to go carefully through the
extracts, assigning the speeches to the best of my ability to the
most suitable of my own characters. This, however, was infinitely
less trouble than inventing dialogue, a process for which I always
entertained an insuperable aversion. I was also confronted at times by
adventures in my extracts which were quite unsuited for the novel with
a purpose, which, according to the justest canons, should never get
beyond a sprained ankle; and even that has to be handled with the
greatest discretion--generally by the wavering curate. So I had in
several places to tone down precipices, stay the inflowing tide with
more success than King CANUTE, and stop runaway horses before they had
excited alarm in their fair riders, or brought the discarded lover out
into the road, saying in a tone of quiet command, "Stop! This cannot
be allowed to go any farther."

Next, through the kindness of a friend, who was a householder, I
procured a reading ticket for the British Museum Library, and from the
RUSKIN, Dr. MOMERIE, and Mr. WALTER PATER, and largely from the
more pretentious Reviews and Magazines, I made copious and tolerably
bewildering extracts, which I apportioned among the vacant spaces in
my story, with more regard to the length than to the circumstances. I
next went carefully over the whole, writing in a line here and there
to make things smooth and pleasant, and artfully acknowledging the
quotations in an incidental manner. The result was a surprisingly
interesting and suggestive work, and when I had copied it all out in a
fair, clerkly hand, I found no difficulty in disposing of it, to good
advantage, to a publisher of repute. The book caught on immensely.
I became for one dazzling season a second-rate lion of the first
magnitude. I was pointed out by literary celebrities whom nobody
knew, to social recruits who knew nobody. I figured prominently in
the Saloons of the Mutual-exploitation Societies, and when my name
appeared in the minor Society papers among those present at Mrs. OPHIR
CROWDY'S reception, I felt what it was to be famous--and to remain

A word of advice to those who will act upon my suggestions. Pitch your
story in the calm domestic key, upon which the depths and obscurities
of essayists, philosophers and divines, will come with pleasing
incongruity. Thus:--


"An English Summer day; old _Ponto_ has been lying in the shade of the
great elm at the Rectory Gate, too lazy to make even a vigorous snap
at the flies, who are circling with mazy persistency round his great,
good-humoured head. At the sound of wheels coming along the road, he
pricks up his ears, and moves aside just in time to avoid being run
over by the chaise from the Hall." Then the rattle of teacups, and
the merry voices of tennis-players are interrupted by the barking of
_Ponto_, and the incident of the tramp, lectured by the Rector, and
relieved by LIONEL, the philanthropic Atheist.

"'I love the Human, I resent the Divine!' said LIONEL, carefully
shutting his purse.

"'Why, really,' began the Rector, 'I don't know what I have done to
incur your resentment.'

"'Pardon me, Sir,' said LIONEL, grimly. 'I am speaking of the Divine
with a big _D_.'

"'We never use a big, big _D_,' laughed NETTIE, gaily shaking her

"'Hush!' said MABEL, raising a warning finger at her little

After this sally you may give two or three pages of discussion,
letting the Rector have a good show with some of the Fathers, while
NETTIE and LIONEL reconstruct things, human and divine, in the
gloaming. You may carry your party to town in the season, and
tantalise your frivolous readers by taking them just up to the
Duchess's door. "Here LIONEL and Mr. CRUMPETTER left the ladies, as
they had some important business in hand, promising to return for
them at six o'clock. They had to go to an architect's office in Great
George Street, to inspect the plans of the new Laundry, which LIONEL
had persuaded the Earl to erect on the waste ground where he had had
his memorable conversation with the tinker."

This plan might advantageously be applied to the fashionable, the
military, the sporting, and the adventurous novel. Indeed, most
writers seem to think that it has been. Meanwhile, nobody need
starve while they can turn their scissors to intelligent use. Yours


       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: SKETCH AT A CONCERT.


       *       *       *       *       *



"_Applause in court, which was instantly suppressed_;" _i.e._, Some
foolish people made a noise at the wrong moment, and applauded the
wrong person.

"_The case excited the greatest interest, and from an early hour in
the morning the approaches to the court were thronged by a vast press
of individuals, representing a large proportion of the rank, fashion,
and intellect of the Metropolis_;" _i.e._, A crowd of loafers and
London busy-bodies came to hear an offensive trial.


"_Well, I just put a song or two in my pocket, on the off-chance, you
know_;" _i.e._, "I've half-a-dozen, but he's so jealous he'll take
precious good care I shan't sing 'em all."


"_No, my dear old chap, you_ must _play the Baron. You see,
anybody, why I myself, can rattle through the Count. Plays itself,
don'tcherknow. But the Baron,_ that _wants an Actor. No, no, you must
play the Baron_;" _i.e._, "_He_ play the Count, at his age, and with
his figure, and cut me out of my favourite part! Put a spoke in _that_

"With _a song! Oh, but_ is _my voice good enough to go with Miss
Seetop's?_" _i.e._, "Scraggy screamer; she'd spoil SIMS REEVES at his

"_What I'm anxious about is the love-scene. You see I'm hardly up to
the Romeo rôle_;" _i.e._, "With _such a Juliet_!"

       *       *       *       *       *

--> NOTICE.--Rejected Communications or Contributions, whether MS.,
Printed Matter, Drawings, or Pictures of any description, will in no
case be returned, not even when accompanied by a Stamped and Addressed
Envelope, Cover, or Wrapper. To this rule there will be no exception.

       *       *       *       *       *

Transcriber's Note

page 267: 'pudent' (sic) retained ... possibly adjective from noun:
pudency, n. Modesty. (f. LL pudentia) (Oxford Dictionary)


from Latin Dictionary: Pudens, pudentis, modest; bashful. Pudenter,
modestly, bashfully.

"To pose as SCIPIO, that pudent Roman,"

page. 270: 'millionnaire', the French spelling of 'millionaire', has been


page 268: 'Brition' corrected to "Briton". "But the Briton hugs his

page 268: 'responbilities' corrected to 'responsibilities' "when the
Companies began really to understand their responsibilities"

*** End of this Doctrine Publishing Corporation Digital Book "Punch or the London Charivari, Vol. 98 June 7, 1890" ***

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