Title: Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 98, 19 April 1890
Author: Various
Language: English
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  PUNCH,

  OR, THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

  VOLUME 98.

  APRIL 19, 1890.

       *       *       *       *       *

IN THE LANE.

_Monday._--_Carmen_ exceptionally excellent. Miss ZÉLIE DE LUSSAN,
gifted with a light, pleasant voice, sang admirably. Can't have "_Trop
de Zélie_." Mr. BARTON McGUCKIN, as _Don Jim-along-José_, did all that
can be done with this weak-minded soldier. No holes to be picked in Mr.
McG.'s performance, though there was a portion of his costume that would
have been the better for the attention of Signor SOANSO, the Spanish
tailor. Perhaps he is one of the "Renters" of Drury Lane. The strongest
and most novel situation was the entrance of a horse, which, like the
old woman who "lived on nothing but victuals and drink," "wouldn't be
quiet," and nearly gave poor _Carmen_ fits. If it had given Mr. BARTON
McGUCKIN fits--a pair of them--my previous allusion to the tailor would
have lacked a tangible basis of fact. Fancy _Carmen_ frightened by an
ordinary horse, not even a dray-horse, of which no Carmen would have
been afraid!

[Illustration: The Garden Scene from the Lane.]

_Tuesday and Friday.--Faust._ Signor RUNCIO, as _Faust_, up to the mark.
Military band of soldiers returned from the wars had apparently
conquered the drum of a British regiment. Signor ABRAMOFF (good as
_Mephistopheles_) showed his generous disposition by sharing his red
light with _Martha_ when he was talking to her.

_Wednesday.--Romeo and Juliet_, repetition of last week when the season
commenced with GONOUD'S masterpiece. Scenery tested the resources of
some of the greatest Drury Lane successes. The pantomime in the
ball-room was particularly excellent and noticeable.

_Thursday.--Mignon_, represented by charming Miss MOODY. Supported by
the dullest of _Lotharios_, Mr. F. H. CELLI. _Wilhelm_ played by a very
small tenor--in fact one who looked like a CHILD. The cast good all
round, and a crowded house enthusiastic. One of the best revivals of the
season.

_Saturday._--WALLACE'S _Lurline_ in the evening, after _Carmen_ in the
morning. "Troubador" just as enchanting as he was twenty years ago. "The
silver river," too, "flows on" as sweetly as ever. Good house testifies
to the love we all have for home-made music. On the whole a satisfactory
week from every point of view. So far--all's well.

       *       *       *       *       *

"A SOCIETY FOR THE STUDY OF INEBRIETY."

(_Notes by Mr. Punch's Own Reporter._)

[Illustration]

ON the last occasion of the Meeting of the above Society a most
interesting paper was read by Professor JAMES JAMBES, F.R.Z.S.,
describing a series of experiments to which, in the cause of Science, he
had recently submitted himself. Commencing by comparatively small
quantities of alcoholic stimulant, he gradually increased the doses
until he reached a maximum of three bottles of Brandy and one of Green
Chartreuse _per diem_, abandoning all other work during the period
embraced by the experiments. After a fortnight of patient research he
was rewarded by the discovery in his immediate neighbourhood of an
abundance of blackbeetles, which he was unable to refer to any known
species of _Orthoptera_. These were succeeded by reptiles and beasts of
various kinds and colours, specimens of which, owing to their
evasiveness, he much regretted to have been unsuccessful in securing.
After increasing the dose to two bottles daily, he was able to detect
the presence of rodents in large quantities. Subsequently these
creatures assumed the most surprising shapes, while their colouring was
frequently gorgeous in the extreme. He had made some brandy-and-water
sketches of the most remarkable--though he had to apologise for the
drawing being less accurate and clear than he could have wished, as the
conditions were generally unfavourable for scientific observation.
Still, they afforded a very fair idea of the principal phenomena which
he had met. (_Cheers._) The Professor, in concluding, remarked that he
himself had never been a Materialist, and that, after the experiences
that attended the addition of the third bottle of brandy and the Green
Chartreuse to his diurnal allowance, he could only confess that, in the
words of the Poet, there were more--many more--things in heaven and
earth than had been dreamed of in _his_ philosophy. Some of the imps,
for instance, that he had noticed on the foot of his bed, he should
never forget. He must ask indulgence for any short-comings both in the
manner and matter of his contribution, on the ground that he was still
suffering from severe indisposition, in consequence of the ardour with
which his researches had been pursued. He felt that he was still only on
the threshold, but he was fascinated by the glimpses he had already
obtained of the strange and wonderful things with which the study of
Advanced Inebriety would make the humblest of us increasingly familiar.
(_Great cheering._)

The reading of the paper was followed by a discussion, in which Dr.
LOSCHEN said, that he was in a position from his own experience to
corroborate most of the statements in the very interesting account to
which they had just listened. He thought the learned Professor had, if
anything, rather underrated the dimensions of some of the snakes. He
could see a particularly fine specimen at that moment under the
Chairman's table, and would postpone any further remarks he was about to
make.

Professor SQUIFFIE said he had not as yet brought his experiments so far
as the last speakers. He was not a Naturalist himself. His line was
Optics. He described some interesting cases of Double Refraction, Mock
Suns, and Lunar Rainbows, that had come under his notice, before sitting
down with some suddenness on the floor.

Mr. STAGGERS, F.H.S., R.C.V.S., said that most of his time had been
devoted to the study of Seismatics. It was a fact not generally known
that "earth tremors" were of almost nightly occurrence after eleven P.M.
Some persons refused to believe that the world went round the sun, but
he had seen it do so several times in the course of a single minute.

Mr. ORRERS wished to know whether any member present had formed any
theory respecting the fantastic attire, particularly in the matter of
head-dresses, affected by the _fauna_ encountered in the more advanced
stages of Inebriety. Why, for example, should kangaroos, especially in
Piccadilly, present themselves in the bonnets usually worn by Salvation
lasses? And again, what natural affinity was there between the common
rabbit and a fez cap? He asked the question because it had been upon his
mind a good deal of late.

Mr. D. T. JUMPER said he merely desired to make one remark with regard
to the pink rhinoceros, which Professor JAMES--or, if he might take the
liberty of so describing him, "dear old JEM JAMBES"--had mentioned as
having found in his bath. Speaking personally, he had never come across
the pink variety of these interesting pachyderms. He had seen them
green, or striped,--but not pink. Was it not just possible that his
distinguished and excellent friend had been misled by some deficiency in
his eyesight or the light on this occasion? With regard to imps, both
blue and spotted, he could only say----but he was compelled to stop
here, as he had barely time to catch the last train to his Retreat.

Mr. BOOSER said he wasn't scientific fler, like some other flers,
still he flattered himself he was fler that knew as much about Inebriety
as most flers, and if there was any fler there liked doubt his word,
give him the lie--they understood what give him the lie meant--he
repeated--give him the lie, why, what he wanted to know was, why didn't
they have courage of their opinions? They knew where find him, and if
they didn't--_he_ knew where find them. (_Uproar._)

[Illustration]

The Meeting then broke up in some confusion, as the Chairman, having
removed his boots during the proceedings, was unable to propose the
customary vote of thanks to Professor JAMBES, who left the hall in a
state of considerable excitement in consequence.

       *       *       *       *       *

The Art Kaleidoscope may undoubtedly be found at 160, New Bond Street,
where the Messrs. DOWDESWELLS are everlastingly giving it a turn. Before
you have time to get tired of one show, the turn is made, and another
reigns in its place. Yesterday it was Royal Berkshire, to-day it is
pictures principally of the French School. There are some fine works by
COROT, which, however, did not justify a weak-minded critic in calling
the show "the Corotid Art-ery." Also examples of MONTICELLI, SEGANTINI
the Italian, DAUBIGNY, TROYON, MUHRMAN, and other notable painters.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: THE ONLY REMEDY.

_Home Sec._ "OH, DEAR! OH, DEAR! WHY LEAVE IT TO ME!"

_Mr. P. (sympathetically)._ "WHY, INDEED? BUT I DON'T SEE ANY HELP FOR
IT TILL WE GET A COURT OF CRIMINAL APPEAL."]

       *       *       *       *       *

THE ONLY REMEDY.

  Pity a poor Home Secretary! Verily
  His days are hard, his nights can scarce wag merrily;
    But of all burdens on his mind distracted,
  Greatest must be that dread responsibility
  Where sense of justice wars with sensibility.
    _Punch_ hardly thinks the two have interacted
  This time with quite ideal force and fitness,
  And that the Public doubts, let the Press witness!

  A loathsome story, sordid, brutal, sickening!
  Dull callousness to smug contrition quickening
    Under the spur of an ignoble terror,
  A hope scarce less ignoble--in expression,
  At least. Yes, calm judicial self-possession
    Is difficult, most easy trimming error;
  But compromise with claims conflicting _here_,
  Is scarce the course of equity one must fear.

  The logic of it does not stand forth clearly;
  The public conscience fidgets, and feels queerly.
    Yes, to be arbiter, by law's compulsion,
  In such a case, with issues so immense,
  _Is_ hard, no doubt; the public common sense
    Against the arrangement turns with strong revulsion;
  And the right remedy, as all must feel,
  Is in a Court of Criminal Appeal!

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: EXTREMES MEET!

_Hearty Luncher._ "THIS FASTING IS ALL BOSH! ROBERT, ANOTHER PLATE OF
PORK AND ANOTHER PINT OF STOUT. I'M GOING TO SEE SUCCI THIS AFTERNOON!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

SONG SENTIMENTIANA.

(_A Delightful "All-the-Year-Round" Resort for the Fashionable
Composer._)

EXAMPLE III.--CONCERNING THE LOVER'S OBJECTION TO BEING HARD ON A
PERSON.

  I love you so! I love you so!
    It's funny, but I do--
  In spite of what my parents know,
    And what they say, of you!
  No honest folks will near you go--
    But wherefore should _I_ shrink?
  I only know I love you so,
    Whatever _they_ may think!

  I love you so! I love you so!
    As I have sung before--
  Although the heart you have to show
    Is rotten to the core!
  They say you oft to prison go;
    But wherefore _my_ dismay?
  I only know I love you so!
    I don't care what _they_ say!

  I love you so! I love you so!
    As I will sing again.
  (In face of all the bills you owe,
    It's awfully insane!)
  What boots it that you _are_ my foe?
    Should that my passion mar?
  I only know I love you so!--
    No matter _what_ you are!

  I love you so! I love you so!
    As still again I'll sing,
  And sing a thousand times, although
    You stole my ruby ring!
  But what care I for suchlike show,
    So long as I have _thee_?
  I love you so! I love you so!
    _That's_ good enough for Me!

       *       *       *       *       *

FIRST APPEARANCE OF THE SWISS-BACK RAILWAY.

(_By Our Easter Eggsperimentalist._)

I have no hesitation in asserting that Lynton and Lynmouth are
frequently called the English Switzerland. I have seen such an
announcement made in the local Guide-books, and heard the opinion
adopted by many of the inhabitants. I am inclined to think that the name
is not a misnomer, for certainly the twin villages, with their miniature
manor-houses and cottage-like country-seats, are not unsuggestive of a
German box of toys. But there is very little of the foreigner in the
inhabitants. Rarely have I seen so much enthusiasm exhibited as on the
occasion of the opening of the Cliff Railway, an event which came off on
Easter Monday. The conveyance in question was suggestive of the
Switchback, or perhaps of the Swissback, when local surroundings are
taken into consideration. The inaugural programme was a long one. We had
a procession, with some eccentric mummers garbed as "Ancient Foresters,"
an opening ceremony, with a Royal salute, fired by three Coastguardsmen,
a banquet at the Valley of Rocks Hotel, life-boat exercise, and,
finally, a grand display of fireworks. I took part in every function. I
applauded the Ancient Foresters, in white beards and brown heads of
hair. I was the earliest to use the railway. I made a speech at the
banquet, I helped to man the life-boat, and, finally, I was the first to
cry "O-o-o-o-o-h!" at the initial rocket of the grand display. So I
think I may be allowed to say that I know something about the place and
its inhabitants. _Imprimis_, Lynton has an excellent hotel, in the shape
of the one to which I have already referred. Secondly, it has a great
benefactor in the person of worthy Mr. NEWNES, M. P., the genial and
clever Chairman of the Cliff Railway Company. Thirdly, the loveliness of
the scenery is greatly enhanced by the fact that practically there are
no residents (probably not half a dozen) in the neighbourhood. It is
true that there is a villa here and there, but none of them is large
enough in itself to spoil the effect of the rocks, the cascades, and the
mountain passes. I admit that when I went to Lynton I was under the
impression that I was going to take part in the inauguration of some
score miles of railway, opening out a new route to the Far West. That
this was an erroneous idea was more my fault than my misfortune. After
trying on foot an ascent from Lynmouth to Lynton, I came to the
conclusion that this line of railway was of far greater importance than
any other in existence. That the track was rather less than a thousand
feet, instead of being rather more than a million miles, I considered
merely a matter of detail. Should it be necessary some day to dispense
with the coach-journey from Barnstaple to Lynton--a journey which, on
account of the exercise in which the travellers are encouraged to
indulge on foot, must be of the greatest possible benefit to their
health--why then the railway could be extended from point to point. All
that would be required would be proportionately computed additional
capital. The formula would run as follows:--If 900 feet of railway from
Lynmouth to Lynton costs so much, 18 miles of railway from Lynton to
Barnstaple will cost so much more. The simplest thing in the world! And
with this practical suggestion for the future I conclude my report, with
the observation that the twin villages of Lynton and Lynmouth deserve
the greatest possible prosperity. Nature, represented by "Ragged Jack,"
the "Devil's Cheese Wring," and Watersmeet, is lovely beyond compare;
and Art could have no better illustration than that furnished by the
unsurpassed resources of the Valley of Rocks Hotel.

       *       *       *       *       *

HUGHIE AND REGIE.--"On what sort of paper should a fellah who's awfully
gone on a gal, don'tcher-know, write to his mash, eh?" "Why--on--_papier
mashé_, of course." "Thanks awfully." (_Goes off to get some._)

       *       *       *       *       *

"It's going to rain to-morrow," said Mrs. R., confidently--"I am sure of
it, because I always read Professor BEN NEVIS'S remarks in the _Times_.
What a clever man he is, and how useful!"

       *       *       *       *       *

NOMENCLATURE.--Isn't it _the_ place _par excellence_ where umbrellas and
waterproofs are in request? If not, why call it, Hayling Island?

       *       *       *       *       *

"IN THE KNOW."

(_By Mr. Punch's Prophet._)

The collapse of _Gasbag_ can have surprised no careful reader of these
columns. His public performances have been uniformly wretched, save and
except on the one occasion when he defeated _Ranunculus_ in the
Decennial Pedigree Stakes at Newmarket last year, and any fool could
have seen that _Ranunculus_ had an off hind fetlock as big as an
elephant's. That comes of training a good horse on Seidlitz powders and
bran-mash. The muddy-minded moon-calves who chatter in their usual
addle-pated fashion about the chances of _Jimjams_, ought to deceive
nobody now that their insane folly has been exposed by me for about the
thousandth time; but the general public is such a blathering
dunderheaded ass that it prefers to trust itself to the guidance of men
like Mr. JEREMY, who knows as much about a horse as he does about the
Thirty-nine Articles. If _Jimjams_, with 9 lbs. advantage and a thousand
sovereigns of added money, could only run a bad second to _Blue Ruin_,
who, on the following day, romped in from _The Ratcatcher_ in a common
canter,--_The Ratcatcher_ having simply spread-eagled _The Parson_ over
the old D. T. course, when the ground was as heavy as Rotten Row in
April,--how in the name of common sense can _Jimjams_ be expected to
show up against high-class yearlings like _Ballarat_ and _Tifftoff_ on
the Goodwin Sands, T. Y. C.? The whole thing is only another instance of
the hare-brained imbecility and downright puddling folly with which the
cackling herd will follow any brazen-headed nincompoop who sets up to
advise them on turf matters. _Jimjams_ has just as much chance of
winning this race as Mr. JEREMY has of being Archbishop of Canterbury.
_Verb. sap._ At any rate my readers will not be able to reproach me with
not warning them in time.

The latest rumour is that _Mrs. Grundy_ has gone lame after her trial
with _The Vicar_. As I always predicted her break-down, I cannot say I
am surprised, though I must own I should like to know what the
pestilential pantaloons think of themselves who have been for months
advising us to invest our money upon her. All BOOZING BILLY'S stock have
come to grief, sooner or later. I thought Lord SOFTED was a fool to give
£5,000 for such a mangy-coated weed as _Mrs. Grundy_. Now I know it.

Those who want a good thing ought to keep their eyes on _Toothpick_.
When he met _Pepperpot_, at a stone less than weight for age, with a
baby on his back, at Esher last year, the betting being then 20 to 7
against the _Harkaway_ filly, he showed what his true form was.
_Pepperpot_, of course, is a rank impostor, but a careful man might do
worse than put a spare threepenny-bit on _Toothpick_, who always runs
better in a snow-storm. As for _Dutchman_, everybody knows he's not a
flyer, and only a man whose brains are made of fish-sauce could
recommend him.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: ANY EXCUSE BETTER THAN NONE.

_Cautious Customer._ "BUT IF HE'S A YOUNG HORSE, WHY DO HIS KNEES BEND
SO?"

_Dealer (reassuringly)._ "AH, SIR, THE POOR HANIMAL 'AS BEEN LIVING IN A
STABLE AS WAS TOO LOW FOR 'IM, AND 'ES 'AD TO STOOP!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

"WANTED A WORD!"--Lord BURY wants a word to express electric action.
Anything Lord BURY deals with should be of grave import. Attempting to
find a new verb is quite an undertaking--to BURY. How would "bury" do?
"We buried him;" meaning, "we electrified him." "We went along Bury
well;" meaning, "the progress caused by electricity was satisfactory."
"We 'Buried along' at a great rate," and so forth.

       *       *       *       *       *

ROOKY WALKER!

SIR,--Perhaps you have read the stories now being told in the
_Spectator_ about rooks and wasps as Policemen. "W.H.W.H." says that a
pair of rooks were persecuted while building their nest, and that a big
rook was deputed to guard them from attack--which he did, like other
policemen, by employing the "beak." There is really nothing at all
remarkable about this tale. Rooks are much more wonderful creatures than
anybody knows about. In my own garden, for instance, there is a rook who
acts as chaplain to a whole rookery. He might almost be called a "bird
of pray." Every Saturday he assembles all the rooks on one large tree,
and caws solemnly to them for ten minutes. I have noticed (through an
opera-glass) that the congregation wears a very devout appearance.
Churchwarden rooks go round while the service is proceeding, and peck
any birds that seem inattentive. At the close there is a universal caw,
which I believe stands for "Amen." It is a curious fact that the
chaplain rook on these occasions always ornaments himself with a wisp of
white grass tied round his neck, which increases his clerical aspect. I
have tried to induce the rooks--by firing at them with small shot--to
adopt Sunday instead of Saturday as their day of devotions, but hitherto
without success. You may think the above worth publishing. It is quite
true.

  Yours, &c.,
  LONGBOW.


SIR,--Here is a fact which beats "W.H.W.H.'s" rook story hollow. Rooks
are keen politicians. I once saw an assembly of them--I don't know if it
was the local Caw-cus or not--divide into two portions, one going to one
tree, another to another, and then two elderly rooks went round, and
counted both batches. After the counting was over they returned from the
lobbies, and business proceeded as before. I have seen the closure very
effectually put on a talkative rook.

  Yours,
  VERACITY.

SIR,--I can confirm these tales of animal Policemen in every
particular--indeed, I am able to add to them. I have often seen a couple
of tom-tits, on leaving their nests for an outing, put a tom-tit
constable on guard till they came back. But here is a still more
remarkable circumstance. On one occasion several other tom-tits wanted
to rob this deserted nest, and they actually came up to the constable
and put something in his claw, after which he looked the other way while
they were rifling the nest. _They had bribed him!_ Comment is
superfluous.

  Yours,
  KEEN OBSERVER.

       *       *       *       *       *

Grandolph's Logic.

  Your Purchase Bill is bad from top to toe--
  Drop it, dear boys, then to the country go,
  And say 'twas through Gladstonian ill-will
  It lost that blessed boon, your bad, bad Bill!

       *       *       *       *       *

LIVING AND LEARNING.--Sir, from a paragraph in _The Times_ about the
Newfoundland Fisheries, I gather the existence of "Lobster Factories."
Never knew this was an industry. Had always thought that Lobsters, like
poets, were born, not made.

  Yours,
  A NATURALIST.

       *       *       *       *       *

L'ABBÉ INCONSTANTIN PARSONIFIED.

THE first impression of _A Village Priest_ is that, in one respect, Mr.
GRUNDY has done well to choose the historical name of the execrable
"Abbé DUBOIS," and bestow it on the _Curé_, who is meant to be the
interesting hero of what, without him, would have been a sufficiently
strong melodrama. The very A B C of the practice of the confessional
being that everything between Priest and Penitent (even when the
Penitent is impenitent) is _sub sigillo_, this Abbé can have, as the
Grand Inquisitor in the _Gondoliers_ sings, "No possible probable shadow
of doubt, No possible doubt whatever," as to his plain duty; and yet he
demands of Heaven a miracle to show him how _not_ to do it. And to this
pious request comes an answer (by limelight) which demonstrates once
more how the Devil can quote Scripture to his purpose.

[Illustration: The Tree at the Haymarket.]

Frankly, Mr. GRUNDY has written three Acts of a play which must have
been powerful had he not extended it to five, and, had he not attempted
to centre the interest on a character which, charming as an incidental
sketch, is, as an essential, an excrescence. Practically the play is at
an end with the finish of the Third Act. Why lug in the _Abbé
Constantin_? And what an Abbé!!

Where are the familiar details? Where the ancient snuffbox, where his
snuffy old pocket-handkerchief? And where the old well-thumbed breviary
from which he is inseparable? M. LAFONTAINE as the _Abbé Constantin_,
_the_ man to the life, was never without the "old black book," under his
arm. The Haymarket Abbé takes his meals without blessing himself, by way
of saying grace, and fumbles about the heads of people who ask his
benison, like an awkward phrenologist feeling for bumps. And what kind
of an Abbé would he be who would tell a young girl that, "when she comes
to be as old as he is, she will have learnt to doubt everything?" Is it
characteristic of a French Abbé to complain of his housekeeper "lighting
his fire with his sermons?" It would be quite in keeping with the type
of an English Clergyman, who, as a rule, preaches from a written sermon;
but not of a French Priest, who preaches without book or manuscript. No;
the _Abbé Dubois_ is the _Abbé Constantin_ spoilt, a French _Curé_
Anglicised into a pet Ritualistic Clergyman, ROBERT-ELSMERE'd-all-over
by Mr. GRUNDY, and finally im-parson-ated by Mr. BEERBOHM TREE. Wasn't
it Mr. BEERBOHM TREE who, years ago, created the original of the
Bath-bun-eating comical Curate, in _The Private Secretary_? Well, this
is the same comical Clergyman grown older, and with the burden on, what
he is pleased to call, his mind of a dying scoundrel's last speech and
confession. The strongest objection he has to violate his sacred trust
arises from the fear that such a revelation would break the heart of an
exemplary old Goody Two-Shoes, for whom he has all his life long
cherished a youthful love, the thought of which, and not his
supernatural vocation, has sustained him, so I understood him to say,
throughout his priestly career. All very pretty and "pale young
Curatey," and theatrically sentimental, but don't put this man forward
as the self-sacrificing hero of a Melodrama. No; the subject is best let
alone. Mr. GRUNDY seems to have rushed in where wiser men have feared to
tread, and thoroughly to have "put his foot in it," all for the sake of
transplanting _L'Abbé Constantin_, whom he has transformed into _L'Abbé
In-Constantin_.

The piece is beautifully put on the stage, and accepting the story as
worked out by Mr. GRUNDY'S characters, the acting is excellent all
round. There are two powerful situations, one in the First Act between
the Judge's son, Mr. FRED TERRY, and the innocent victim, Mr. FERNANDEZ,
admirably played; and another in the Second between Mr. TERRY and Miss
LECLERCQ, also rendered with considerable power. Little Miss NORREY'S
shrill squeak, or scream, or whatever it is, at the end of the First
Act, imperils the situation, and might be toned down with advantage, as
also might her spasmodic melodramatic acting later in the piece. Mrs.
TREE'S is a pretty part, but not a strong one. To sum up, apart from the
two situations I have cited, I should say, that what will linger in the
memory of man when it runneth not to the contrary, is not the false
sentiment, but the real water which fills the real watering-pot, the
blossoming apple-tree, and, above all, the stolidly-chivalrous Mr. ALLEN
as _Captain of Gendarmes_. By the way, the exterior of the presbytery is
that of a small cottage. Excellent. The interior, representing the
Abbé's sitting-room, is a large and lofty Gothic cell--a regular
cell--capable of holding two such presbyteries as we have just seen from
outside. But there--it is another lesson--never judge by appearances.

[Illustration: Probable future of the ex-Abbé In-Constantin. He marries
Madame D'Arcay, and they come over to England and join the Salvation
Army.]

To return for the last time to the _dramatis personæ_, everyone who sees
this play will regret that the Author has not bestowed as much pains on
the character of the _Captain of Gendarmes_ as he has on the maudlin
water-pottering old _Curé_. The drama, after the Third Act, is
lugubrious. Why not lighten the general depression by bringing on the
_Captain of Gendarmes_ to the "_Boulanger March_," and making him as
amusing as _Sergeant Lupin_ in _Robert Macaire_? The piece is well
mounted, why should not the Gendarmes be also mounted? There are four or
six of them. What an effect has been missed by not bringing them in on
real horses, and giving them a quartette or a sestette _à cheval_, with
a solo for the Captain! Then the Captain might know all about the
murder, and _he_ would reveal it without breaking the seal--unless it
were to crack a bottle--and all would end happily. As it is, all ends
miserably, or would so end, but for the Captain, whose last words before
the fall of the Curtain, uttered in his best French, are "_Ong Avong!
Marsh!_" From which it may be inferred that they are going into a dismal
swamp, but it is magnificent, if not _la guerre_, and this cry of the
Captain has a true military ring about it that gladdens the heart of

  Yours ever,
  PRIVATE BOX.

       *       *       *       *       *

A CHANT FOR THE COLLEGE OF SURGEONS.

    [Lord DUNRAVEN is going to introduce a Bill to reform the College of
    Surgeons.]

  Lo! they raise the gleaming scalpels, and the fearsome feuds begin
  'Twixt the Members of the College that is hard by Lincoln's Inn.

  College once of Barber Surgeons, but the Barbers left the Guild
  To the "Company of Surgeons," by whom we are cured or killed.

  And the College grants diplomas two-and-twenty inches long;
  After which, in cutting limbs off, sure the tyro can't go wrong.

  He can practise all the Surgeons' art and science; worded thus
  Is the motto, "Arts," the College says, "_quæ prosunt omnibus_."

  But unless by operations he amasses store of pelf,
  It is clear the arts in question will not benefit himself.

  Yet the Members are not happy, and with energy they say,
  They should have a voice in choosing those who over them hold sway.

  Sir MORELL MACKENZIE slashes at the College with a will;
  Lord DUNRAVEN to his rescue comes with promise of a Bill.

  Haply from this Æsculapian combat we may chance to see
  Fairer future for the College, though the Doctors disagree.

       *       *       *       *       *

NEWS OF THE EMIN-ENT TRAVELLER.--Mr. STANLEY was received at Rome by the
Marquis de VITELLESCHI, who gave him some "vitels," and by the Duke de
SERMONETA, who gave him a sermon. How nice to be H. M. STANLEY!

       *       *       *       *       *

FROM CERTAIN WORKING-MEN TO GRANDOLPH.----"We don't like these 'ere
erpinions o' yourn, and we 'opes as you won't 'Old'em."

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: BARBERESSES.]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: "A CUT OFF THE JOINT."]

"A CUT OFF THE JOINT."

  _Swish! swish!_ Sweet is the sound of steel 'gainst steel
  To him who's hungering for a good square meal.
  This joint is juicy, and the carver skilled,
  But many plates are waiting to be filled.
  The Restaurant is famed for popular prices,
  A clever Cook, and oh! such whopping slices!
  What wonder then that customers are clamorous,
  That appetites, of good cheap victuals amorous,
  Sharpen at sight of that big toothsome joint?
  The carver does not wish to disappoint;
  He is no Union Bumble, stingy, truculent,
  He knows his dish is savoury and succulent,
  That "Cut and Come again's" a pleasant motto,
  But deal out "portions" all this hungry lot to?
  Amphitryon feels the thing cannot be done,
  Though he should slice the saddle to the bone
  With all the deftness of a Vauxhall Waiter.
  First come first serve! some claims are less, some greater;
  Some of them may secure a well-piled plateful,
  Others, though the necessity be hateful,
  Empty away must go. Won't there be grumblings,
  Waterings of mouths and hunger-gendered rumblings!
  But the great Surplus-Joint, although a spanker,
  Won't satiate all the appetites that hanker
  After a solid slice of it. Cook GOSCHEN
  Of careful carving has a neatish notion,
  Yet, though his skill be great, his judgment sound,
  He will not make that whopping joint "go round."

       *       *       *       *       *

A BABE O' GRACE.

    [MR. CHAMBERLAIN says that "MR. GLADSTONE'S Home Rule Policy was
    conceived in secresy, was born in deceit, and was nurtured on
    evasion."]

  Poor Babe (whom kind Nurse C. so fain would throttle)
  Ill was thy fate, fed from the GLADSTONE bottle!
  Nurture less harsh had ROMULUS and REMUS.
  Nurse C. would, oh! so gladly, "NICODEMUS
  The bantling into Nothing." Yet it lives
  And kicks and crows, and lots of trouble gives,
  This happy Baby on the tree-top dangling
  Whilst friends and foes about thy fate are wrangling!
  When the wind blows--ah! then the world shall see
  What a prophetic soul has kind Nurse C.
  Its face, perchance, had been more bright and bland
  Could kind Nurse C. have "brought it up by hand,"
  As _Mrs. Gargery_ did the infant "_Pip_."
  Nay, there are some who on the hint let slip
  That kind Nurse C. had never wished it slain
  Had it but in another _Chamber lain_!

       *       *       *       *       *

Look at Home!

GRANDOLPH says that "Local Self-Government" should precede "Purchase."
Probably he may find a little "Local Self-Government" (of tongue and
temper) necessary to enable him to "purchase" the continued support of
the Voters of South Paddington!

       *       *       *       *       *

EXIT IN FUMO.

    [The birthday gifts from the Emperor to Prince BISMARCK include,
    besides his portrait, a long and valuable pipe.]

  O solace of sore hearts, soul-soothing pipe!
    Was ever trail-exhausted Indian,
    Tired mariner, or hungry working-man,
  Or sore-tried toiler, of whatever type,
  More needed comfort from thy blessed bowl
    Than brooding BISMARCK in his exiled hour?
    He who, when storms about his land did lour,
  Faced them, and rode them out, and to the goal
    Of glory, and to safety's haven brought
    His mighty charge! Memories of foes outfought,
  And rivals out-manoeuvred, stir his soul,
    His strong stark soul, as there he sits and shrouds
    That granite face in thick tobacco-clouds
  Blown from the "long, and valuable" gift
  Wherewith a grateful Master's genial thrift
    Rewards the service, "long and valuable,"
    Of such a Servant! Later time shall tell
  The tale of that strange parting, of the schemes
    That set asunder autocratic youth
    And age, perchance, imperious. But, in truth,
  Wise age discounts the worth of boyish dreams;
  'Tis well that youth, betimes, should bear the yoke!
    Maybe the Mighty Chancellor's career
    Is far less like, whatever may appear,
  Than the proud Emperor's plans to--end in smoke!

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: A QUIET DRIVE BY THE SEA.

A BRIGHTON BATH-CHAIRMAN'S IDEA OF A SUITABLE ROUTE FOR AN INVALID
LADY.]

       *       *       *       *       *

USEFUL WARNING.

  "Will you walk into my parlour?"
    Said the spider to the fly.
  'Twas the money-lending spider,
    And "Oh no!" was the reply.
  "I've read the _Globe_, and I'm secure,
    With legs and wings still free!
  No buzzi-ness with you. No! Your
    'Fly-paper' won't catch me."

       *       *       *       *       *

OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.

In _The Splendid Spur_, "Q." has given his Pegasus his head--(Queer
appearance this Pegasus with Q.'s head; but, as that's not my meaning, I
must mind my P's and Q's)--and has spared neither whip nor splendid spur
in his wild ride. Up behind, and clinging to "Q.," we are carried
onward, amid clashing of arms, booming of cannon, pealing of bells,
flashing of steel; anon we stumble over rocks, tumble over cliffs, hide
in secret caves, secrete ourselves, like mad Lord High Chancellors,
among Woolsacks; then after fainting, stabbing, dying, crying, sighing,
"JACK'S all alive again," and away we gallop, like DICK TURPIN on Black
Bess, and we leave girls dressed as boys behind us, and provincial JOANS
OF ARC going out fighting for Church and King; and then, just as we are
hanging suspended in mid-air over an awful precipice, there is a last
gallant effort, and we awake to find ourselves gasping for breath, and
awake to the fact that "Q.'s Pegasus" is a nightmare. It recalls
memories of LOUIS STEVENSON'S _Black Arrow_, but distances it by miles,
while here and there its vivid descriptions are equal to some of the
glowing pictures in SHORTHOUSE'S _John Inglesant_. The Baron hereby
recommends it as a stirring work for the novel-skipper in an idle hour.

By the way, it would be difficult, to say the least of it, to prove that
the slang phrase "shut up" and the Americanism "say" were never used in
A.D. 1642, in the sense in which they are used in 1890, but they are
scarcely characteristic of the modes of expression at that particular
period.

  BARON DE BOOK-WORMS.

       *       *       *       *       *

A SONG _WITH_ WORDS.

(_Suggestively dedicated to Lord Bury._)

  Oh! tell me not that you will "clic"
    When I can but "electricate,"
  Or, "propelected," merely "tric"
    A distance I might well "volate."
  For if to "Faradate" or "Volt"
    In "motored" motion I may "glide,"
  I wonder why I may not "bolt,"
    When called on to "electricide."
  Yet as each word I clip and splice,
  I'm more than half inclined to "trice."

  Let others "elk" until they're wild,
    I will not "lectroceed" or "glint,"
  And though their trip be "poled" or "piled"
    I need not "coil," or "spark," or "scint."
  No, if "electroflected" force
    They use to "clash" along their way,
  I p'raps might "ohm" upon my course
    Or even "squirm," if "clicked" to-day.
  "But no! the _Times_ gives sound advice,
  As matters stand, I think I'll "trice"!

       *       *       *       *       *

OUR ADVERTISERS.

THE DON JOSÉ GIANT GRAPE GINGER BEER.--Don JOSÉ DI GOMEZ, Marquis of
MAXILLO, Duke of BAGOTA, Grandee of Spain, Knight Grand Commander of the
Order of the Purple Alligator, G.R.M.C.S.S., &c., &c., having, owing to
some recent financial losses in connection with his ancestral estates in
South Patagonia, determined to listen to the advice of experts and
friends, who assure him that he possesses a complete mine of wealth in
the Giant Grape Vineyards, for which his Sicilian property has long been
celebrated, has made all the necessary arrangements for the manufacture
of a sound and serviceable sparkling Wine, which, under the title of the
DON JOSÉ GIANT GRAPE GINGER BEER, he is now prepared to supply to the
general public at a moderate cost.

       * * *

THE DON JOSÉ GIANT GRAPE GINGER BEER.--Is a delicious light sparkling
wine, soft and smooth on the palate, of a Madeira flavour, possessing a
bottled stout character, and if mixed with water strongly resembling the
choicest brands of Old Burgundy, Hock, and Californian Claret, shipped
from the estate direct, in cases containing one dozen, at 7_s._

       * * *

THE DON JOSÉ GIANT GRAPE GINGER BEER.--This exquisite beverage is also
possessed of valuable medicinal advantages, and is highly recommended by
the faculty as a most successful and beneficial cough mixture.

       *       *       *       *       *

"THE LATEST SPRING NOVELTY."--A Fine Day.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: THE PARLIAMENTARY GOLF-LINKS.

(_A Sketch made during the Recess._)]

       *       *       *       *       *

THOUGHTS ON HIS WINE-MERCHANT.

  I love my Wine-merchant--he talks with a charm
  That robs his most dubious vintage of harm.
  And the choicest Havanas less comforting are
  Than the fumes of his special commended cigar.

  I'm a reticent man, with a palate of wood,
  And I judge by results if a vintage be good.
  But I own to the charm of my Wine-merchant's worst,
  If he gives me his comforting flattery first.

  He proffers me samples to praise or to blame,
  And I strongly suspect they're exactly the same.
  But we gaze at each other with critical eye,
  And I wish he would hint if it's fruity or dry.

  I want, say, a dozen of average stuff
  (Though a couple of bottles were really enough),
  And I enter his portals, reluctant and slow,
  Resolved just to give him the order and go.

  But he takes me in hand in his soothering style,
  Suggests in a whisper, and "books" with a smile;
  And I vainly dissemble the joy in my face
  When he ceases to ply me with bottle and case.

  The talk drifts away to affairs of the State,
  And I ought to escape, but I palter and wait;
  And he opens a box in the midst of his chat,
  And asks, like a flash, my opinion of "that"?

  I sniff the tobacco, and turn it about
  With an air that is really of genuine doubt,
  And knowing so little what judges would say,
  I meekly consent to a hundred--and pay.

  There's a charm, when the varied consignment arrives,
  To men who are blest with amenable wives;
  But I watch my AMANDA with covert alarm,
  And wait till she severs the Wine-merchant's charm.

       *       *       *       *       *

MRS. R. is always instructing herself. She has been reading up legal
technicalities. "The names," she says, "in some cases are so
appropriate. I am informed that in a Divorce case, where the husband is
the petitioner, the Judge issues a writ of '_Fie Fie_' against the
wife."

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: A REMINISCENCE OF LENT.

"AND DID YOU BOTH PRACTISE A LITTLE SELF-DENIAL, AND AGREE TO GIVE UP
SOMETHING YOU WERE FOND OF?--_SUGAR_, FOR INSTANCE,--AS I SUGGESTED?"

"WELL, YES, AUNTY! ONLY IT WASN'T EXACTLY _SUGAR_, YOU KNOW! IT WAS
_SOAP_ WE AGREED TO GIVE UP!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

MR. PUNCH'S DICTIONARY OF PHRASES.

JOURNALISTIC.

"_At the Duchess of Drinkwater's fashionable reunion, held last night, I
noticed among the first-comers, &c._;" _i.e._, I got all my information,
when it was over, as well as I could, from an inebriated linkman.

"_What is this we hear about a certain----?_" We're not certain of our
authority, but can't miss the opportunity of being first in the field
with the rumour of a scandal, so we put it into an interrogatory form,
which can't do any harm to _us_.

"_The greatest excitement prevails_;" _i.e._, Two men who were not
present on the occasion discuss it under a lamp-post and the influence
of liquor.

SOCIAL.

"_You must come and dine with me one night_;" _i.e._, "It sounds hearty,
but as a fixture I'll relegate it to the Greek Kalends."

"_How well you are looking!" (to a Gentleman)_; _i.e._, "You are getting
awfully stout, and must drink more than is good for you." _Ditto, ditto
(to a Lady)_; _i.e._, "Your figure and complexion are entirely gone."

AUCTIONEERING.

"_Old Historic House_;" _i.e._, Dormer windows, dark rooms, and the dry
rot.

"_High-class Furniture_;" Another term for mahogany.

"_Superior Ditto_;" An adjective reserved for walnut.

"_Solid Ditto_;" When there is no other epithet possible.

"_Elegant Modern Ditto_;" In the gimcrack pseudo-æsthetic style.

"_Handsome Ditto_;" _i.e._, Consoles, any amount of mirrors, gilding,
crimson silk, ormolu--all a little "off colour."

OF A FRIEND'S NEW HORSE.

"_Ah! Well put together_;" _i.e._, "He's screwed all round."

PLATFORMULARS.

"_We have no personal quarrel with our opponents_;" _i.e._, "They said
some dreadfully rude things about me last night. Hope one of the local
speakers will give them a trouncing afterwards, _I'm_ expected to be
polite."

"_I congratulate you upon the growth of your Association, and the
excellent political work it is doing in this district_;" _i.e._, "Know
nothing about it, except what the pasty-faced Secretary has just crammed
me with, but must butter them a bit."

"_Your admirable Member, whose voice we hear only too seldom in the
House_;" _i.e._, "A silent 'stick' whose silence is his only merit."

"_No words of mine are necessary to commend this vote of thanks to your
good will. You all know your Chairman_;" _i.e._, How long will that
stammering idiot be allowed to preside at these meetings?

PARLIAMENTARY.

"_Of course I withdraw_;" _i.e._, "Of course I don't."

"_Of course, Sir, I bow to your ruling_;" _i.e._, "I'm sure you're
wrong."

"_Of course I accept the Honourable Gentleman's explanation_;" _i.e._,
"Can't _tell_ him he's a liar!"

"_When I entered the House to-night it was with no thought of being
called upon to address you_;" _i.e._, "I _should_ have been mad if I'd
missed the chance of letting off my long-stored rhetorical fireworks!"

AT A DANCE.

"_May I have the pleasure?_" _i.e._, "Wish to goodness she'd refuse, but
no such luck!"

"_Delighted!_" _i.e._, "I'd as soon dance with a tipsy Mammoth."

"_Awfully sorry, but I haven't one dance left;_" _i.e._, "I've three,
but if I'd thirty, he shouldn't have one, the lemon-headed little cad!"

"_I think I see Mamma looking for me;_" _i.e._, "Must get rid of the
bore somehow."

A LITTLE MUSIC.

"_Oh, will you play us that sweet little thing of yours in five flats?_"
_i.e._, "It isn't sweet, but it is short, which is something--with him!"

"_Won't you give us just one song, Mr. Howler? I won't ask you for
more_;" _i.e._, "Wouldn't for that, if I could help it."

       *       *       *       *       *

MODERN TYPES.

(_By Mr. Punch's Own Type-writer._)

No. IX.--THE ADVERTISING BARRISTER.

[Illustration]

The Advertising Barrister may best be defined as the living and pushing
embodiment of self-assertion and impudence. He is not of those who by a
life of steady and honourable toil attain eventually to the high places
of their profession, whether at the Bar or in Parliament, without losing
the respect and friendship of their fellows. These too in the race of
life must pass many of the feebler runners, and force themselves by
their own merit into places that others would fain have occupied, but
they always run straight, their practice and their performance are
disfigured by no trick, and in the end they bring their honour
untarnished to the goal, and receive the applause even of their
vanquished rivals. With them the Advertising Barrister has no point in
common, save the robes he wears in virtue of his call. For his ambition
is as sordid as the means whereby he attempts to fulfil it are
questionable. He must be credited with the knowledge that his natural
abilities are by themselves insufficient to assure him either fame or
wealth. But he consoles himself by reflecting that if only impudence,
_réclame_, and a taste for the arts of a cadger, be protected by the
hide of a rhinoceros, they are certain to prevail up to a certain point
against the humdrum industry of those inferior beings who hamper
themselves with considerations of honour and good-feeling. It must not
be understood that the Advertiser puffs himself in a literal sense in
the advertising columns of the press. The rules of his profession, to
which even he pays an open deference, forbid this enormity; but in the
subtler methods of gaining a certain attention, and of keeping his name
under the public eye, he has no equal even in the ranks of those who
spend thousands in order that the million may be made happy with soap.

The boyhood and youth of the Advertising Barrister will have been passed
in comparative obscurity. The merchant who relieved the monotony of a
large and profitable wholesale business by treating him as a son,
impressed upon him at an early age the necessity of making the family
history illustrious by soaring beyond commerce to professional
distinction and a fixed income. In furtherance of this scheme the son
was sent to pick up a precarious education at a neighbouring day-school,
where he astonished his companions by his ease in mastering the polite
literature of the ancients and the vulgar fractions of Mr. BARNARD
SMITH, and delighted his masters by the zeal with which he generally
took his stand on the side of authority. Having, however, in the course
of a school examination been detected in the illicit use of a volume of
Bohn's Library, he was called upon for an explanation, and, after
failing to satisfy his examiners that he meant only to reflect credit
upon the school by the accuracy of his translations, he was advised to
leave at the end of the term. After a short interval spent in the
society of a coach, he entered a fast College at one of our ancient
Universities, and, being possessed of a fairly comfortable allowance,
soon distinguished himself by the calculating ardour with which he
affected the acquaintance of young men of rank, and shared in the
fashionable pleasures of the place. Recognising that amidst the careless
and easy-going generosity of undergraduate society, he who has a cool
and scheming head is usually able to tip the balance of good luck in his
own favour, he lost no opportunity of ingratiating himself with those
who might be of service to him. He cultivated a fluent style of
platitudes and claptrap at his college debating society, and at the
Union, to the committee of which he was elected after prolonged and
assiduous canvassing. Having managed to be proctorised in company with
the eldest son of a peer, whom he delighted by the studied impertinence
of his answers to the Proctor, he eventually went down with a pass
degree and a mixed reputation, and, after the orthodox number of
dinners, and the regulation examination, had the satisfaction of seeing
his name published in the list of those who, having acquired a
smattering of Roman and English law, were entitled, for a consideration,
to aid litigants with their counsel.

For the next few years little was heard of him. He read in chambers,
drew pleadings and indictments, and gathered many useful tricks from the
criminal advocate to whom he attached himself like a leech. During this
period he also made the acquaintance of a Solicitor who had retired from
the noon-day glare of professional rectitude to the congenial atmosphere
of shady cases. He also struck up a friendship with two or three
struggling journalists, who were occupied in hanging on to the
paragraphic fringe of their profession, and who might be trusted
afterwards to lend a hand to an intimate engaged in a similar, but not
identical line of business. Helped by a shrewd, and not over-scrupulous
clerk, he gradually picked up a practice, a thing mainly of shreds and
patches, but still a practice of a sort. At the Middlesex Sessions, and
at the Central Criminal Court, his name began to be mentioned; and in a
certain money-lending case it was acknowledged that his astuteness had
prevented the exposure of his client from being as crushing and complete
as the rate of per-centage had seemed to warrant.

Soon afterwards, one of his richer college companions, whose convictions
were stronger than his power of expressing them, was selected as
Candidate for a remote constituency, where speakers were not easily
obtained. The glib Barrister was remembered, and appealed to. At an
immense sacrifice of time and money, he rushed to the rescue, his
travelling and hotel expenses being defrayed by the Candidate. He spoke
much, he spoke triumphantly; he referred, in touching terms, to the ties
of ancient friendship that bound him to the noblest and best of men, the
Candidate; and, when the latter was eventually elected, it was stated in
every Metropolitan evening paper that he owed his success chiefly to the
eloquence and energy of the able Barrister who had pleaded his cause.
Henceforward there was no peace, politically speaking, for the
Barrister. Swifter than swift CAMILLA he scoured the plain facts of
political controversy at meeting after meeting, until they glowed under
the dazzled eyes of innumerable electors. Where Leagues congregated, or
Unions met, or Associations resolved, there he was to be found, always
eager, in the fore-front of the battle. He became the cheap jackal of
the large political lions who roar after their food throughout the
length and breadth of the land, and picked up scraps in the shape of
votes of thanks to chairmen. He figured at political receptions, and
eventually contested a hopeless Constituency, with the assistance of the
party funds. Having, by his complete defeat, established a claim on the
gratitude of his party, he applied successively for a Recordership, a
Police Magistracy, and a County Court Judgeship, but was compelled to be
satisfied temporarily with the post of Revising Barrister. Yet, though
he was disgusted with the base ingratitude of time-serving politicians,
he was by no means disheartened, for he had long since become convinced
that the best method of self-seeking was to seek office, and to clamour
if that should be refused. Finally, after having paid to have his
portrait engraved in a struggling party journal, and having appended to
it a description, in which he compared himself to ERSKINE and the
younger PITT, he became an annoyance to those who were his leaders at
the Bar, or in politics. He was, therefore, appointed Chief Justice of
the Soudan; and after distributing British justice to savages, at a
cheap rate, for several years, he retired upon a pension, and was heard
of no more.

       *       *       *       *       *

ROBERT'S LITTLE HOLLERDAY.

Easter Munday I dewoted to Epping Forrest. I draws a whale over my
feelings when I looked out of my bed-room winder and seed the rain a
cumming down in bucket-fulls! But a true Waiter can allus afford to
Wait.

  "Late as you likes, but never hurly,
  Seldom cross, and never surly,
  The jowial Waiter gos to his work,
  And enwys no Hethun nor yet no Turk!"

And I had my reward, for at 12.20 A.M. the jolly old sun bust forth, as
much as to say, "it was only my fun!" So off I started by Rail, along
with about a thowsand others, in such a jolly, rattling Nor-Wester, that
the River Lea looked more like a arm of the foming Hocean than a mere
tuppenny riwer. But the sun was nice and warm till about 1.30, when,
just for a change, I suppose, down came a nice little shower of snow!
and then more warm sun, and then plenty more cold wind, and then lots of
rain. So them as likes wariety had plenty of it that day. And what a
lovely wision was Epping Forest when we all got there! Ewerything as
coud assist in emusing, and eddicating, and refining about a hundred
thowsand peeple was there in such abundans that I myself heard a
properioter of no less than 6 lofty swings a complaining, in werry
powerful langwidge, that things in the swinging line are not as they
used to be three or four years ago, for lots of the peeple are such
fools that they acshally prefers taking a quiet walk through the Forest,
to being either swung, or roundabouted, or cokernutted, or ewen
Aunt-Salleyed! But the wise Filosopher will probbably say, if you wants
to make peeple happy, speshally them as don't werry often get the
chance, give 'em not what you likes, but what _they_ likes, and leave it
to Old Father Time to teach 'em better sum day. ROBERT.

       *       *       *       *       *

LEGAL AND PERSONAL (_by an envious Barrister_).--Why is BUZFUZ, Q.C.,
like Necessity? _Ans._ Because he knows no law.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration]

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.





*** End of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 98, 19 April 1890" ***

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