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Title: Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 98, June 14 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 14 1890" ***

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VOLUME 98, JUNE 14TH 1890

_edited by Sir Francis Burnand_

[Illustration: MAXIMS FOR THE BAR. No. VI.

"Never miss a chance of ingratiating yourself with the Jury, even at
the expense of the Judge." (An opportunity often occurs after Lunch.)]

       *       *       *       *       *


(_Doggerel on "The Doctor," by an "Old Duffer."_)

    "Dr. GRACE, who seemed to forget his lameness, played with
    great vigour and dash, and his cuts and drives possessed all
    their old brilliancy."--_The Times, on the exciting finish in
    the Cricket Match between the M.C.C. and the Australians, June
    3, 1890._

  One hundred and eleven runs, and eighty-five minutes to make 'em in,
  And with TURNER and FERRIS to trundle as fast as they could pitch
          and break 'em in!
  And it looked any odds on MURDOCH'S men contriving to make a draw
          of it;
  But Cricket, my lads, is a curious game, and uncertainty seems the
          sole law of it.
  So they sent in GRACE and SHUTER to start. Well, the Doctor is now
          called "a veteran,"
  But at forty-two when he's on the job 'tisn't easy to pick out a
          better 'un.
  And he "spanked for four," like a lad once more, and he cut and he
          drove like winking;
  Though his leg _was_ lame, he forgot that same, and he "played the
          game" without shrinking.
  And Surrey's SHUTER he did his part, and so did Notts' GUNN, Sir,
  Though he _might_ have chucked the game away when the Doctor he
          managed to out-run, Sir.
  It was hard, you see, upon W. G. in _that_ way to lose his wicket,
  But all the same he had won the game, and had played superlative
  Forty-three to make, and forty-five minutes! But GRACE and GUNN
          were equal to it;
  And a win, with a quarter of an hour in hand, was the satisfactory
          sequel to it.
  The Australians played a manly game, without any dawdling or
  And if they didn't avoid defeat why it wasn't for want of hard
  But the stiff-legged "Doctor" who forced the game in the most
          judgmatical fashion,
  And forgot his leg and his "forty year" odd, full flushed with a
          Cricketer's passion!
  Why he's the chap who deserves a shout. Bravo, brave "W. G," Sir.
  And when you next are on the job, may the "Duffer" be there to
          see, Sir!

       *       *       *       *       *


    "The locality is extremely healthy, and Hawarden will probably
    become a large residential place, and a centre of mining
    industry."--_Mr. Gladstone's Evidence before the Commissioners
    for Welsh Intermediate Education._

_Monday._--Wood-cutting. Inconvenient having so many villas built all
round park. Inhabitants inspect everything I do. Nasty little boys
(whom I can see over their garden wall) shout "Yah!" and wave large
primrose wreath. Irritating. Perhaps due to healthiness of air. Retire
to another part of the demesne. Heavens! what is that erection? Looks
like a Grand Stand, in a private garden, crowded with people. It
is! Invited (by owner of garden) specially to view me and (I hear
afterwards) my "celebrated wood-cutting performance," at a shilling
a-head. Disgusted. Go in.

_Tuesday._--Down local coal-mine. Interesting to have one at
Park-gates. Explain to colliers principle of the Davy lamp. Colliers
seem attentive, Ask me at the end for "a trifle to drink my health
with." Don't they know I am opposed to Endowment of Public-houses?
Yes, "but they aren't," they reply. Must invite WILFRID LAWSON to

_Wednesday._--Curious underground rumblings. Wall of Castle develops
huge crack. _What_ is it? A dynamite plot? Can SALISBURY have
hired----? HERBERT comes in, and tells me the proprietor of Hawarden
Salt Mine has just sent his compliments; with a request that I would
"shore up" the Castle. Otherwise "he is afraid it may fall in on his
workmen." Impudence! Why can't they dig under Eaton Hall instead?

_Thursday._--WATKIN here. Offers to make a Tunnel under Castle, from
one mine to the other. Why a Tunnel? Also wants to dig for gold in
Park. Ask him, if there's any reason to suppose gold exists there? He
says you never can tell what you may come to if you bore long enough.
"At all events, even if no gold there, the boring useful if at any
time I feel inclined for a Tunn----" Go in. WATKIN _has_ bored long
enough already.

_Friday._--STEPHEN drops in, and says "new Hawarden
Cathedral"--_really_ built to accommodate people who come to hear
me read Lessons, only STEPHEN thinks it's his sermons that are the
attraction--"will soon he finished." I suggest that he should have
Welsh "intermediate" services now and then. STEPHEN says "_he_ doesn't
know Welsh, and can't see why Welsh people can't drop their horrible
tongue at once, and all speak English." Pained, Tell him _he_ needn't
conduct service--any Welsh-speaking clergyman would do. STEPHEN
replies that if he introduced Welsh service, "villa-residents would
boycott the Cathedral altogether." Well, supposing they do? STEPHEN
retorts that "I had better have an Irish service at once, and get
PARNELL up to read the Lessons." Something in the idea. Must think it

_Saturday._--My usual holiday. Fifteen speeches. Park literally
crammed. Excursionists, colliers, salt-miners, villa-residents, and
Chester Liberals, all seem to find locality tremendously healthy. All
enjoying themselves thoroughly. Wish _I_ was. Worn-out in evening.
Begin to wonder what Park and Castle would fetch, if I were to go and
settle in Hebrides to escape mob.

_Sunday._--Escorted by two regiments of mounted Volunteers to Church.
Volunteers have great difficulty in securing a passage. Have to use
butts of their muskets on more impulsive spectators. Curious that just
at this point I should Remember Mitchelstown. Must try and get over
the habit. Lessons as usual. Find a crushed primrose between the
pages, evidently put there on purpose. Those villa-residents again!
Surely DREW might inspect the lectern before service commences! Home,
and think seriously of Hebrides.

       *       *       *       *       *


(_By a Practical Sportsman._)

  The spot for me all spots above
    In this wide world of casual lodgers,
  Is not the nook sacred to love;
    The "cot beside a rill" of ROGER'S.
  'Tis not the spot which TOMMY MOORE
    Praised in "_The Meeting of the Waters_."
  Avoca's Vale my soul would bore;
    I should prefer more lively quarters.
  Thy "little spot," ELIZA COOK,
    Means merely patriotic flummery;
  And COLERIDGE'S "hidden brook"
    Won't fetch me, e'en when weather's summery.
  I hold the Picturesque is rot,
    "Love in a Cot" means scraps for dinner;
  I only know _one_ pleasant spot,--
    I mean the "spot" that "finds a winner!"

       *       *       *       *       *

novel is to be entitled, _Won of the Conquerors_. It would be unfair
to the author to mention how what the Conquerors had conquered was won
from them in turn. "I am at liberty to inform the public, however,"
says the BARON DE B.-W., "that WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR is not in it
with the others. I am able also to assure his numerous admirers that
_Beauchamp's Career_ is not a medicinal romance, and has no sort of
connection with a certain widely-advertised remedy."

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: "WILL HE GET THROUGH?"]

       *       *       *       *       *

WILLIAM HENRY _loquitur_:--

  Pouf! Pouf! I'm that awfully out of breath with my long and
          terrified scamper,
  With that bull on my track, and this bag on my back, a burden that
          Milo would hamper.
  Though Milo was not a pedestrian "pot," nor was it a turnstile
          that nipped him;
  No, if I remember my classics aright, 'twas the fork of a
          pine-tree that gripped him.
  But nowadays one had need be a Milo and a fleet Pheidippides in
          one, Sir.
  And with carrying weight I'm in such a state, it isn't much
          further _I_ can run, Sir.
  Oh, drat that bull! Will nobody pull the brute by the tail, and
          stop him?
  Such beasts didn't ought to be let loose; in the _clôture_ pound
          they should pop him,
  With a gag on his muzzle. This turnstile's a puzzle, with its
          three blessed wings, confound it!
  I don't see my way to getting through it, and there's no way of
          getting round it;
  And I _am_ that fat--no, I won't say that; but I'm not, like dear
          ARTHUR, quite lathy.
  And I'm sure, by the bellow of that bull, that the fellow is
          getting exceedingly wrathy.
  Pouf! Now for a burst! Which to take the first of the turnstile
          wings is the floorer.
  If I breast it wrongly, though I'm going strongly, I'll expose my
          rear to yon roarer.
  Eugh! I fancy I feel his horns, like steel, my person viciously
  Against such points broadcloth's no protection, although padded
          with woollen "wadding."
  Oh, hang this bag! I shall lose the swag, if I slacken or lag one
  I thought I had measured my distance so well, but I fear that I
          must have misreckoned.
  That bull of GLADDY'S most certainly mad is, though he gave me his
          word, the Old Slyboots,
  It was perfectly quiet. I have SALISBURY'S fiat, but I wish he was
          only in _my_ boots.
  "Tithes first," indeed! Why, with all my speed, and my puffings,
          and perspiration,
  I doubt if I'll be in time to get through; and as for that
  It is sure to stick. "_Quick_, SMITH, _man_, _quick!_" Oh, it's all
          very well to holloa;
  With a sack on one's back, and a bull on one's track, 'tisn't easy
          that counsel to follow.
  My life's hardly worth an hour's "Purchase," if I'm overtaken by
  Such brutes didn't ought to be loose in the fields, to bore us,
          and score us, and gore us.
  "_Run! run!_" Oh, _ain't_ I running like winking? Reach the
          turnstile? I may just do it
  But with its three wings--oh, confound the things!--I much doubt
          if I'll ever get _through_ it!

    [_Left trying._

       *       *       *       *       *


THE attention of statisticians has lately been directed to a question
of no little interest. To put it as shortly as possible, the point is
to discover the number and size of the mayonnaises of lobster consumed
in the course of one evening in the district bounded on the east by
Berkeley Square, and extending westward as far as Earl's Court. It is
well-known that no lobster ever walked backwards. Taking this as the
basis of our calculations and assuming that [Greek: pi]^{n_1} is
equal to the digestive apparatus of six hundred dowagers, we reach
the surprising total of 932,146-1/8 lobsters. No allowance is made for
dressing or returned empties.

       *       *       *       *       *

"A Poet" writes to us as follows:--"I have long been puzzled by
the difficulty attending the proper construction of rhymed verse in
English. Some words possess many rhymes, others only a few, others
again none. Yet I find that the temptation to end a line with a
non-rhyme-possessing word like 'month' is almost irresistible, and
frequently gives rise to the most painful results. In the course of my
emotional ballad entitled, '_The Bard's Daughter_,' I was compelled on
an average to kill half-a-dozen German bands every day, and to throw
ten jam-pots at my butler for unseasonable interruptions. Can any of
your readers help me?"

       *       *       *       *       *

A flight of ducks was observed to settle on the Serpentine yesterday
at four o'clock exactly. They had been moving in a westerly direction.
The Park-keepers explain this curious incident by the well-known
affection of these birds for water, combined with an occasional
impulse to aërial navigation, but the explanation appears to us

       *       *       *       *       *

In Vienna the other day, a Cabman was observed to claim more than his
fare from an elderly lady, whom he afterwards abused violently in the
choicest Austrian for refusing to comply with his demands. After all,
the nature of Cabmen all over the world varies very little. Elderly
Ladies too, are much the same.

       *       *       *       *       *

Mr. STANLEY continues to attend dances, dinners and receptions at
the usual hours. He has lately expressed himself in strong terms with
regard to the action of a friendly Power on the continent of Africa.
Mr. STANLEY appears to think very lightly of the Foreign Office
pigeon-holes, in which his treaties have been stored in the meantime.

       *       *       *       *       *



_Proud Mother._ "OH, NO; QUITE A CONTRAST TO HIM!"

_Sympathetic Spinster._ "HOW NICE!"]

       *       *       *       *       *


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

HA! ha! I knew it, I knew it! All the grog-blossomed addle-pates in
the world couldn't have induced me to back _Surefoot_. There they
were cackling in their usual hugger-mugger Bedlamite, gin-palace,
gruel-brained fashion, with Mr. J. at the head of them blowing a
_fan-fare_ upon his own cracked penny trumpet. But I had my eye on
them all the time. For as the public must have discovered long before
this, if there is one person in the world who sets their interests
above everything, and swerves neither to the right nor to the left in
the effort to save them from the depredations of the pilfering gang
of pig-jobbers and moon-calves who chatter on sporting matters, that
person, I say it without offence, is _me_.

What was it I said last week about _Sainfoin_? "_Sainfoin_," I said,
"is not generally supposed to cover grass, but there are generally
exceptions." A baby in arms could have understood this. It meant, of
course, that _Sainfoin_ never lets the grass grow under his feet, and
that on the exceptional occasion of the Derby Day, he would win the
race. _And he did win the race._ We all know that; all, that is,
except Mr. J.'s lot, who still seem to think that they know something
about racing. But I have made my pile, and so have my readers, and
we can afford to snap our fingers at every pudding-headed
barnacle-grabber in the world. So much for the Derby.

As for the Oaks, it would be impossible to conceive anything more
scientifically, nay geometrically, accurate than my forecast.
"_Memoir_," I said, "might do _pour servir_." Well, didn't she? And if
anybody omitted to back her, all I can nay is, serve them right for
a pack of goose-brained Bedlamites. For myself, I can only say that,
having made a colossal fortune by my speculations, I propose shortly
to retire from the Turf I have so long adorned.

       *       *       *       *       *

A BIASSED AUTHOR.--One whose MS. is written "on one side only."

       *       *       *       *       *


(_Highly Humorous Song. Sung with Immense Success by King M'Tesa, of

"King M'TESA inquired of Mr. STANLEY what an 'Angel' was. He (Mr.
STANLEY) had not seen an angel, but imagination was strong, and M'TESA
was so interested in what he was told, that he slapped his thigh
and said, 'There! if you want to hear news, or wish to hear words of
wisdom, always ask a white man.'"--_Mr. Stanley at the Mansion House._

[Illustration: "If you want to know, you know, ask a White Man."]

AIR--"_Ask a Policeman!_"

  THE White Men are a noble band
    (Though TIPPOO swears they're not),
  Their valour is tremendous, and
    They know an awful lot,
  If anything you'd learn, and meet
    A White Man on the way,
  Ask _him_. You'll find him a complete


  If you want to know, you know,
            Ask a White Man!
  Near Nyanza or Congo,
            Ask a White Man!
  In Uganda I am King,
  Yet _I_ don't know everything.
  If you want to know, you know,
            Ask a White Man!

  If you would learn how best to fight
    Your way through regions queer,
  Thread forest mazes dark as night,
    And deserts dim and drear!
  If you your rival's roads would shut,
    And get his in your grip;
  You go to him, he's artful, but
    He'll give you the straight tip.


  If you'd know your way about,
            Ask a White Man!
  He knows every in and out
            Does a White Man!
  He will tell you like a shot
            If the roads are good or not;
  He can open up the lot,
            Ask a White Man!

  And if about the Angels you
    Feel cu-ri-os-i-ty,
  For information prompt and true,
    To a White Man apply.
  _He_ knows 'em, and, indeed, 'tis said
    Himself is _almost_ such.
  His "words of wisdom" on this head
    Will interest you much.


  If you want to shoot and drink,
            Ask a White Man!
  He can help you there, I think.
            Ask a White Man!
  If you'll learn to grab and fight,
            And be mutually polite,
  And observe the laws of Right,
            Ask a White Man!

       *       *       *       *       *



"_Mr. Ranter's Macbeth is too well known to all play-goers to need
any special notice at our hands. Those who have not yet seen it should
avail themselves of the present opportunity;_" _i.e._, "Can't pitch
into old RANTER, good chap and personal friend."


"_I should say in your case, that the Digestion was a little upset;_"
_i.e._, "As gross a case of over-eating as I have ever come across in
the whole of my professional experience. You must have been feeding,
literally, like a hog, for years!"


"_What I so like about dear Sibyl is her charming simplicity;_"
_i.e._, "The silliest little chit conceivable."

"_His conversation is always so very improving;_" _i.e._, "A pedantic
prig, who bores you with Darwinism in the dance, and 'earnestness' at
a tennis-party."

       *       *       *       *       *


_Or, Something like a Score for the Sex._

    [In the Cambridge Mathematical Tripos Miss P. G. FAWCETT, of
    Newnham, daughter of the late Professor FAWCETT, is declared
    to be "above the Senior Wrangler."]

  ABOVE the Senior Wrangler! Pheugh!
    Where now are male reactionaries
  Who flout the feminine, and pooh-pooh
    Sweet Mathematic MEGS and MARIES?
  Who says a girl is only fit
    To be a dainty, dancing dangler?
  Here's girlhood's prompt reply to it:
    Miss FAWCETT tops the Senior Wrangler!

  Would it not have rejoiced the heart
    Of her stout sire, the brave Professor?
  AGNETA RAMSAY made good start,
    But here's a shining she-successor!
  Many a male who failed to pass
    Will hear it with flushed face and jaw set.
  But _Mr. Punch_ brims high his glass,
    And drinks your health, Miss P. G. FAWCETT!

       *       *       *       *       *


SCENE--_Her Majesty's Theatre._ _Enter_ Mr. _and_ Mrs. BROWN.

_Brown_ (_to_ Boxkeeper, _with the air of a Sovereign conferring an
Order upon a faithful subject_). There's sixpence for a programme.

_Boxkeeper._ Very sorry, Sir, but it isn't a programme; it's a Book of
the Argument, and we have to pay _that_ for it ourselves!

_Brown_ (_resenting the information_). Oh, bother! Then I'll do
without it.

_Mrs. Brown_ (_annoyed_). Why didn't you get a book? You know we'll
never understand it without one.

_Brown._ Nonsense, my dear! It's a distinct advantage to trust to
one's own resources.

    [_Curtain goes up, and discovers a number of male characters,
    who come on and go off severally._

_Mrs. Brown._ What are they talking about?

_Brown._ Oh, all sorts of things. (_Enter_ Mlle. DARLAUD, as Lydie
Vaillant.) Ah! you see this is the heroine.

_Mrs. Brown._ Is it? (_Examining her through opera-glass._) Very
simple frock. I think I shall have one like it.

_Brown_ (_dreading a dress-maker invasion_). Oh, it wouldn't suit you
at all. You always look better in silks and satins.

    [_Entr'acte over._ _Second Act_, Madame PASCA appears, _and is

_Mrs. Brown_ (_deeply interested_). CHARLEY, dear, she's wearing
Russian net, and you know you can get it at----

_Brown_ (_hurriedly_). Hush, you are disturbing everybody.

_Mrs. Brown_ (_at end of Second Act_). What was it all about?

_Brown._ Oh, didn't you see. It was a castle, and a number of tourists
were shown round the pictures by an old servant. Excellent!

_Mrs. Brown._ I do so wish you would get a book.

_Brown._ Oh, we can do without it now--the piece is nearly over.

    [_Third Act is played, and Curtain falls._

_Mrs. Brown._ Well, what was _that_ about?

_Brown._ Oh, didn't you see they had breakfast--and with tea too, not
with wine. Very strange how English customs are spreading.

    [_Tableau I. of Act III. is played. Considerable applause._

_Mrs. Brown._ I don't quite understand _that_.

_Brown._ You don't! Why, it's as simple as possible. _Paul Astier_
arrived late, and dressed for dinner. Excellent!

_Mrs. Brown._ But what's the plot?

_Brown._ Oh, _that's_ of secondary importance--the piece is a clever
skit upon modern manners! (_Tableau II. is played._) Capital! Wasn't
MADAME PASCA good when she wanted a glass of water?

_Mrs. Brown._ Quite too perfect! And her velvet and satin gown was
absolutely lovely! (_With determination._) I shall get one like it!

_Brown_ (_alarmed_). I am not so sure! You look better in muslins.

    [_Last Act is played, and_ Paul Astier _is shot dead_.

_Mrs. Brown_ (_much affected_). Oh! what did they do _that_ for?

_Brown._ Don't you see--the reward of life. Hence the title.
(_Subsequently in the cab._) Wasn't it good? Didn't you enjoy

_Mrs. Brown._ Very much indeed, but I _do_ wish you had got a book!
(_To herself._) Let me see--green velvet over white satin. (_Aloud._)
It will take about eighteen yards!

_Brown_ (_waking up_). Eighteen yards of what?

_Mrs. Brown._ Oh, nothing! I was only thinking.

    [_Scene closes in upon a mental vision of the dress-maker from
    opposite points of view._

       *       *       *       *       *

"ALLOWED TO STARVE."--To save time, contributions to the Balaclava
Fund should be forwarded direct to the Editor of _The St. James's

       *       *       *       *       *


[Illustration: _Poor little Zélie (beseechingly)._ O Mr. Randegger,
_do_ let me have my bouquets!]

_Monday._--_Don Giovanni._ RAVELLI the Reliable an excellent _Don
Ottavio_, vocally; considered dramatically, he does as much as can be
expected of a man of his inches. _Zerlina_ and _Masetto_ so pleased
with his singing that they stop on the stage all through the _tessoro_
song, for which he takes a hearty _encore_, whereupon _Zerlina_ and
_Mazetto_ run off quickly. Having had enough of it, however, they do
not return for the _encore_. Rather rude this. DAN DRADY too sinister
for gay _Don Giovanni_; and there is a villanous determination
about his gallantry which would have frightened away the coquettish
_Zerlina_, and have warned the more mature ladies of the world, _Donna
Anna_ and _Donna Elvira_, in time to prevent them from falling victims
to his wiles. Otherwise a highly satisfactory _Don_. Signor PLUNKETTO
GREENO as the unfortunate _Commendatore_, who is first killed, and
then executed in stone, as a statue to his own memory, was heard and
seen to the best advantage. ZÉLIE DE LUSSAN, too Carmenish as flighty
little _Zerlina_, but evidently a match for the sardonic Don DAN
DRADY. Madame TAVARY has done well to quit the Hofoperahaus, Munich,
and come to Covengardenhaus as _Donna Anna_,--a trying part that not
_Anna_-body can play and sing as well as Madame TAVARY. This lady
and LILIAN NORDICA (pretty name LILIAN) as _Donna Elvira_ render the
characters so charmingly, that they cease to be the funereal bores I
have generally considered them. _Ottavio_, _Anna_, and _Elvira_, the
trio with a grievance, are, usually, about as cheerful as the three
Anabaptists in _Le Prophète. Mais on a changé tout cela_. PALLADINO,
as the dancing guest--she is always small and early in every Opera
now--delights everyone, and so does Conductor RANDEGGER, who is
determined that poor little ZÉLIE DE LUSSAN shall not receive the big
bouquets which a mysterious man has brought to the orchestra; then one
of the instrumentalists handed them to the leader, who, in order
to take them, has been compelled to put down his violin, and, after
looking about in a helpless and puzzled manner, holds them until
further orders from his chief. Not receiving further orders, he
occupies his time by sniffing at the flowers and making remarks _sotto
voce_ to his companion violinist on the botanical beauties of the
_flora_. Conductor RANDEGGER, apparently unaware of what has been
taking place behind his back, turns round abruptly to inquire why
leader is taking a few bars' rest. Leading violinist exhibits bouquet,
and appeals in dumb show to conductor. The conductor's eye in fine
frenzy rolling, says as clearly as fine frenzied rolling eye can say
anything, "Remove that bauble!"--(RANDEGGER would make up remarkably
well as _Cromwell_)--and the leader, with a sympathetic and apologetic
glance at ZÉLIE as implying, "You should have had 'em if _I_ could
have managed it, but you see how I'm situated. RANDEGGER'S a hard
man"--puts the bouquets on the floor of the orchestra, and, dismissing
them by a supreme effort from his thoughts, betakes himself to his
musical Paganinic duties. What becomes of the flowers that bloom in
the orchestra, _tra la!_ I don't know, I wish that ZÉLIE may get them.
Remembering the example set by "Practical JOHN" at the Gaiety, of
placarding up everywhere in the theatre "No Fees," DRURIOLANUS, at
the suggestion of Conductor RANDEGGER, might "hang out a banner on
the outer wall" of the orchestra, with the letters inscribed on it
"N.B.--No Bouquets."

_Tuesday._--The grandest night of the Season up to now, dear boys.
_Romeo_ JEAN DE RESZKÉ, and MELBA _Juliette_. What can you wish for
more? EDOUARD DE RESZKÉ as the _Frère Laurent_ a magnificent Friar,
belonging to some one of the theatrical "Orders" "not admitted
after seven." The talented Mlle. BAUERMEISTER'S _Gertrude_ hardly a
companion picture to her _Martha_ in _Faust_. Signor PLUNKETTO GREENO
not quite every inch a Duke: about one inch in three Duke and the rest
Democrat. When he has been _Duke of Verona_ long enough, he'll be all
right, and most likely

  He'll be, this Mister PLUNKET GREENE,
  The Dukiest Duke that ever was seen.

A word to the wise. Whenever this Season _Romeo and Juliette_ is
played with this cast, go and see it. Don't hesitate. It's memorable.
A feast for ear and eye. _Ite ad astra-operatica._ And at the same
time, don't forget to honourably mention the founder of the feast,

_Wednesday._--Extra. _Carmen._ Derby Day. I have been at the Derby.
Glad to get back again. As to "back again," I don't "back again"
anything for a long time. But, _à nos moutons_. _Toreador_ evidently
has had his money on _Sainfoin_. Never sang better. Glad to see
the simple Scotch lassie, MAGGIE MCINTYRE, once more as the village
maiden. Charming. ZÉLIE DE LUSSAN as wickedly attractive as ever.
What a collection such a gipsy would make on a Derby Day--a fine Derby
Day--among the "pretty gentlemen" whose fortunes she would tell. Extra
night this, and extra good.

_Thursday._--A WAGNER Night. Crowded to see JEAN DE RESZKÉ as another
Wagner Knight. NEDDIE DE RESZKÉ as the _King Henry_--every inch a
King, and something to spare. Freddy Telramondo suits DAN DRADY
better than _Don Giovanni_. Madame FURSCH-MADI as the wicked
_Ortruda_,--("Never saw ought ruder than her conduct to Elsa,"
observes the irrepressible Mr. WAGSTAFF,)--And MAGGIE MACINTYRE as the
virtuous but unhappy _Elsa_. The stranger in the land of WAGNER begins
to wonder at the continuous flow of the melody, not one tiny cupful
of which can he take away with him, until with joy he hears the Bridal
Chorus at the commencement of the Third Act, and for a few moments he
rests _dans un pays de connaissance_.

_Friday._--_Lucia di Lammermoor._ Great night for Madame MELBA.
Recalled three times before Curtain after each Act. Living
illustration of once popular romance, "_Called Back_." Great night,
too, for Harpist and Flutist. Both gentlemen highly applauded, and
would have been recalled, but for the fact of their not having quitted
the orchestra. Harper plays solo from _Harper's Miscellany_, arranged
by DONIZETTI. RAVELLI the Reliable recalled also.

_Saturday._--Brilliant house. Royal Highnesses early to come and last
to go. Magnificent performance of _Die Meistersinger_. M. ISNARDON
very comic as _Beckmesser_, LASSALLE a noble Hans Sachs ("the
shoemaker who sings a sole-o," says Mr. WAGSTAFF), JEAN DE RESZKÉ a
grand young _Walther_, MONTARIOL (as before) a capital silly idiot
_David_, Mlle. BAUERMEISTERSINGER very lively as _Magdalena_, and
Madame TAVARY a skittish young chit in the somewhat trying and rather
thankless part of _Eva_. The tenor's song to her ought to be, "EVA, of
thee I'm fondly dreaming," if WAGNER had only thought of it. Opera too
long; but Wagnerites don't complain, and certainly to-night they get
their money's worth and something over, from 7.30 till past midnight.

       *       *       *       *       *


CARDINAL MANNING, apparently having been invited by its author to
express an opinion upon Mr. WM. O'BRIEN'S "_When we were Boys_,"
writes:--"When I got to the end, I forgot the book, and would only
think of Ireland--its manifest sufferings, and its inextricable
sorrows." His Eminence then continues:--"I hope to see the day break,
and I hope you will see the noontide, when the people of Ireland will
be readmitted, so far as is possible, to the possession of their own
soil, and shall be admitted, so far as is possible, to the making and
administration of their own local laws, while they shall still share
in the legislation which governs and consolidates the Empire. Then
_Ken_ and _Mabel_ shall be no more parted."

No doubt this excellent critique will be followed by the publication
of letters somewhat similar to the following:--

    DEAR MR. APPLES,--I promised to write to you after I had used
    your Soap. When I had finished washing my hands, I forgot
    everything but gallant little Wales. I hope to see the
    morning, and trust you will see the evening, of that time when
    the bold sun of freedom will shine over a land true to itself,
    as far as possible, and rejoicing in the name of the country
    without stain. Then will we all say, "Good afternoon,"
    followed by the customary inquiry. Believe me,

  Always yours very faithfully,        W. E. GL-DST-NE.

Should this mode of criticism be extended, the benefit to those who
have to review without knowing what to say will be obvious.

       *       *       *       *       *

A New Heading of an Old Epitaph.

    "A remarkable coincidence has attended the drawings of two of
    the principal Club Derby Sweepstakes. As we stated yesterday,
    the Garrick Club Sweepstakes, of the value of £300, has fallen
    to Mr. HENRY IRVING. We now learn that Mr. TOOLE benefits to
    the extent of £75 out of the Sweepstakes of the Devonshire
    Club."--_Daily News._

LOVELY in Life, they were Both There when the Sweepstakes were

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: A SEVERE SENTENCE.


       *       *       *       *       *


  THREE fishers went fishing North-east and North-west
    (Like the trio from Kingsley familiarly known).
  Each thought himself, doubtless, the bravest and best,
    And held the good "swims" should be mainly his own.
  There was JOHNNY the Briton, and FRANÇOIS the Frank,
  And JONATHAN also, the artful young Yank,
    An expert at "bouncing" and "boning."

  And FRANÇOIS the Frank, who went fishing for cod,
    Nicked lobsters as well, and he stuck to them too;
  He declared they were all the same thing, which seemed odd,
    The result being anger and hullaballoo,
  And rows about Bounties, and shines about Bait;
  For ructions all round are as certain as fate,
    When parties go "bouncing" and "boning."

  And JONATHAN, well, _he_ went fishing for seals,
    And he wanted the fishing grounds all to himself.
  When the Russ had done ditto, the Yank had raised squeals
    (How consistency's floored in the struggle for pelf!)
  And JONATHAN took a most high-handed course;
  For greediness mostly falls back on brute force,
    When parties go "bouncing" and "boning."

  And JOHNNY the Briton, a sturdy old salt,
    Had been a sea-grabber himself in his time;
  Some held that monopoly still was his fault,
    Others swore that his modesty verged upon crime,
  Nor is it quite easy to say which was true,
  For so much depends on a man's point of view,
    When parties go "bouncing" and "boning."

  But when JOHNNY the Briton caught sight of the Frank
    Making tracks with a lobster--the whoppingest one--
  And when he perceived the impertinent Yank
    With the seal--such a spanker!--skedaddling like fun,
  He stood and he shouted, "Stop thief! Hi! Hold hard!"
  For language does not always "go by the card,"
    When parties go "bouncing" and "boning."

  "Now then, you sea-grabbers," he bellowed, "Belay!
    I suppose you imagine I'm out of it quite.
  But you're not going to have it just all your own way.
    Fair dues! my dear boys. After all, right is right!
  Big Behring is no _mare clausum_, young Yank,
  And cold Newfoundland is not _yours_, my fine Frank,
    In spite of your 'bouncing' and 'boning.'"

  Well, he of the Lobster and he of the Seal
    Have rights of their own, which old JOHN won't deny.
  But _he_ has some too, and _Punch_ hopes they will feel
    That they should not grab his, and had better not try.
  Some _modus vivendi_ no doubt can be found,
  To make the Three Fishers quite friendly all round,
    And good-bye to all "bouncing" and "boning!"

       *       *       *       *       *


  _Q._ What loves "The Country" more than Tithes Bills tracing?
  _A._                                        Racing!
  _Q._ And what than "Compensation's" doubtful courses?
  _A._                                        'Orses!
  _Q._ Than Bills of Irish Tenants poor to favour rights?
  _A._                                        Favourites!
  _Q._ What does it find as profitless as St. Stephens?
  _A._                                        "Evens!"
  _Q._ What more exciting than "The Pouncer's" nods?
  _A._                                        "Odds!"
  _Q._ What does it love far more than LABBY'S jokes?
  _A._                                        "Oaks!"
  _Q._ And what beyond all ELCHO'S quirks and quips?
  _A._                                        "Tips!"
  _Q._ What would it call him who of "Sport" turns squelcher?
  _A._                                        "Welsher!!!"
  _Q._ Who finds the "Derby" closing satisfactory?
  _A._                                        Hack Tory!
  _Q._ What's the protesting Puritan Gladstonian?
  _A._                                        "Stony 'un!"

       *       *       *       *       *

GERMAN MOTTO IN AFRICA.--"_For Farther Land!_"

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: "THREE FISHERS."


       *       *       *       *       *


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



EVER since undergraduates existed at all, there must have been some
who, in the precocity of their hearts, set themselves up or were
set up by the admiration of their fellows as patterns of life, and
knowledge, and manners. But before steam and electricity made Oxford
and Cambridge into suburbs of London, these little deities were
scarcely heard of outside the limits of their particular University,
the sphere of their influence was restricted, and they were unable to
impress the crowd of their juvenile worshippers by the glamour which
comes of frequent plunges into the dizzy whirlpool of London life.
Now, however, all that is changed. Our seats of learning are within
a stone's throw of town, and the callow nestlings who yesterday
fluttered feebly over King's Parade or the High, may to-day attempt
a bolder flight in Piccadilly and the Park. The simpler pleasures of
Courts and Quads soon pall upon one who believes emphatically, that
life has no further secrets when the age of twenty has been reached,
and that an ingenuous modesty is incompatible with the exercise of
manliness. He despises the poor fools who are content to be merely
young while youth remains. He himself, has sought for and found in
London a fountain of age, from which he may quaff deep draughts, and
returning, impart his experience to his envious friends.

The Precocious Undergraduate, then, was (and is, for the type remains,
though the individual may perish) one who attempted in his own opinion
with perfect success, to combine an unerring knowledge of men with a
smooth cheek and a brow as unwrinkled as late hours could leave it.
In the sandy soil of immaturity he was fain to plant a flourishing
reputation for cunning, and to water it with the tears of those
who being responsible for his appearance in the world dreaded his
premature affectation of its wisdom and its follies.

They had given him, however, as befitted careful parents, every chance
of acquiring an excellent education. In order that he might afterwards
shine at the Bar or in the Senate, he was sent to one of our larger
public schools, where he soon found that with a very small life-belt
of Latin and Greek a boy may keep his head safe above the ripple of a
master's anger. But his school career was not without honour. He was a
boy of a frank and generous temperament, candid with his masters, and
warm-hearted and sincere in his intercourse with his school-fellows.
He was by no means slow with his wits, he was very quick with his eye
and his limbs. Thus it came about that, although his scholarship was
not calculated to make of him a Porson, he earned the admiration
and applause of boys and masters by his triumphs as an athlete, a
cricketer, and a foot-ball player, and was established as a universal
favourite. At the usual age he left school and betook himself to
college, freighted for this new voyage with the affection and the
hopes of all who knew him.

And now when everything smiled, and when in the glow of his first
independence life assumed its brightest hues, in the midst of apparent
success his real failures began. The sudden emancipation from the
easy servitude of school was too much for him. The rush of his new
existence swept him off his feet, and, yielding to the current, he
was carried day by day more rapidly out to the sea of debt and
dissipation, which in the end overwhelmed him. For a time, however,
everything went well with him. His school and his reputation as a
popular athlete assured to him a number of friends, he was elected a
member of one or two prominent Clubs, he got into a good set. In their
society he learnt that an undergraduate's tastes and his expenditure
ought never to be limited by the amount of the yearly allowance he
receives from his father. Whilst still in his freshman's Term, he was
invited to a little card-party, at which he lost not only his head,
but also all his ready money, and the greater part of the amount which
had been placed to his credit at his Bank for the expenses of his
first Term. This incident was naturally much discussed by the society
in which he moved, and it was agreed that, for a freshman, he had
shown considerable coolness in bearing up against his losses. Even
amongst those who did not know him, his name began to be mentioned
as that of one who was evidently destined to make a splash, and might
some day be heard of in the larger world. His vanity was tickled.
This, he thought to himself, not without pleasure, was indeed
life, and thinking thus, he condemned all his past years, and the
aspirations with which he had entered his University, as the folly
of a boy. Soon afterwards he was found at a race-meeting, and was
unfortunate enough to win a large sum of money from a book-maker who
paid him.

The next incident in his first Term was his attendance as a guest at
a big dinner, where the unwonted excitement and a bumper or two of
University champagne upset his balance. He grew boisterous, and on
his way home to his rooms addressed disrespectfully the Dean of his
College, who happened to be taking the air on the College grass-plot.
He woke, the next morning, to find himself parched and pale, but
famous. "Did you hear what So-and-So, the freshman, said to the Dean
last night? Frightful cheek!"--so one undergraduate would speak of him
to another, with a touch of envy which was not diminished by the fact
that his hero had been gated at nine for a week.

But it is useless to pursue his career through every detail. He went
on gambling, and soon found himself the debtor or the creditor of
those whom he still attempted to look upon as his friends. He bought
several thousand large cigars at £10 per hundred from a touting
tobacconist, who promised him unlimited credit, and charged him a high
rate of per-centage on the debt. He became constant in his visits to
London, and, after a course of dinners at the Bristol, the Berkeley,
and the Café Royal, he acquired, at Cambridge, the reputation of a
connoisseur in cooking and in wine. The Gaiety was his abiding-place,
the lounge at the Empire would have been incomplete without him: for
him Lais added a rosy glow to her complexion and a golden shimmer to
her hair; he supped in her company, and, when he gave her a diamond
swallow, purchased without immediate payment in Bond Street, the
paragraphist of a sporting paper recorded the gift in his columns with
many cynical comments. In short, he now knew himself to be indeed a
man of the world. Henceforward he seemed to spend almost as much
time in London as in Cambridge. It is unnecessary to add that his
legitimate resources soon ran dry; he supplied their deficiency from
the generous fountain of a money-lender's benevolence. After all,
eight per cent. per month sounds quite cheap until it is multiplied by
twelve, and, as he always disliked arithmetic, he abstained from the
calculation, and pocketed the loan. And thus, for a time, the wheel
of excitement was kept spinning merrily. But the pace was too fast to
last for long. Somehow or other, soon after the beginning of his third
year, his happy gaiety which had carried him cheerfully through many
scenes of revelry seemed to desert him. He became subject to fits of
morose abstraction. His dress was no longer of the same shining merit,
nor did he seem to care, as formerly, to keep his cuffs and collars
unspotted from the world. Disagreeable rumours began to be whispered
about him. He was said to have failed to pay his card-debts, and
yet to have gone on gambling night after night; and at last came the
terrible report--all the more terrible for not being fully understood
by those who heard it--that he had been posted at Tattersall's.

Undergraduate Society is, however, of an extraordinary tolerance, and
if it had not been for his own manifest misery, he might have kept
his head up in Cambridge even under these calamities. But he began too
late to realise his own folly, and with the memory of his triumphs and
his collapse, of his extravagance and his debts clogging his efforts,
he tried to read. He did read, feverishly, uselessly, and when his
list appeared his name was absent from it. Then followed the fatal
interview with his father, and the inevitable crash, in the course of
which he became the defendant in a celebrated case on the subject of
an infant's necessaries. An occupation was sought for him, but all
capacity for honest effort seemed to have perished with his frankness
and his cheerfulness. After creeping about London in a hang-dog
fashion for a year or two, he eventually decided to tempt misfortune
in the Western States of America. For a time he "ranched" without
success, and was heard of as a frequenter of saloons. A year later he
died ignobly by the revolver of a Western rowdy, in the course of a
drunken brawl.

       *       *       *       *       *

MUSICAL FORECASTS.--Mr. PADDY REWSKI will play variations on his
own national Melodies, including the _Gigue Irlandaise_, entitled,
"_Donnybrook Fair_."--Mr. CHARLES REDDIE'S Pianoforte Recital is
fixed for the 17th. It is not placarded about the town, as the clever
pianist says, he's perfectly REDDIE, but he's not WILLING.--Mr. JOSEF
DASH-MY-LUD-WIG is going to give a Second Chamber Concert on behalf
of the Funds of the Second Chambermaid Theatrical Aid Society.--Mr.
CUSINS' Concert is on the 12th. Uncles and Aunts please accept this

       *       *       *       *       *


       *       *       *       *       *


    [A Gentleman advertises for an old house, and says, "Harmless
    Ghost not objected to."]

_A Spectre speaks_:--

  TELL us, good Sir, what is a Harmless Ghost?
    One who walks quietly at dead of night,
  For just a single hour or so at most,
    And never gives folks what is termed a fright?
  Is it a Ghost that never clanks his chains,
    That never gibbers, and that bangs no door:
  But quietly and peacefully remains
    In calm possession of some upper floor?

  A Harmless Ghost is not a Ghost at all,
    Unworthy of the name; no Headless Man,
  Or other spectre that could men appal,
    Would condescend to live 'neath such a ban.
  No phantom with a grain of self-respect
    Would make a promise never to do harm.
  Find your old house, but please to recollect,
    A Ghost who knows his business _must_ alarm.

       *       *       *       *       *



WITH reference to the several cases of "Masquerading" that have
recently been mentioned in the columns of a contemporary, I wish to
add a remarkable experience of our own firm, that, if it does not
completely clear the matter up, may at least serve to throw a little
light upon the subject. Last Friday afternoon a middle-aged man of
unmistakable City build dashed wildly into our establishment, and
desired to be supplied with "the largest pantomime head" with which we
could furnish him. This we fortunately had in stock in the shape of a
large green and phosphorescent faced representation of the "Demon of
Despair," which was rendered additionally attractive through being
supplied with a "trick eye," which worked with a string.

It was evidently of the greatest importance to him that the head
should be natural and becoming, and by the close and satisfied
scrutiny he gave it, and the great care with which he fitted it
on, the one with which we supplied him evidently fully answered his
requirements. His manner was certainly strange, for though he refused
to give his address, he took several flying leaps across the shop,
turning a double back somersault as he cleared the counter, and
finally asked me whether I thought him sufficiently disguised to avoid
recognition in his own immediate circle?

I told him candidly that I thought his large head, being peculiar,
might possibly draw upon him notice that otherwise he would fail to
arouse, and I added, "You see, it is not as if there were a dozen of

"True," he replied; "you're quite right. There ought to be a dozen of
us. Look out the heads. I will go and fetch 'em." And he dashed out of
my establishment, followed by a small crowd. In about two hours and
a half, however, he returned, accompanied by twelve other middle-aged
City men, and in almost as short a time as it takes me to tell it, I
had fitted them all with large pantomime heads.

He paid the bill and left the shop. I watched them all get on to a
King's Cross and Brompton Omnibus, and that was the last I saw of
them. There is nothing very remarkable in the occurrence, as we are
in the habit of making up disguises, sometimes as many as 500 in an
afternoon on the shortest notice. Still I could not help wondering
upon what business my eccentric friend was bent. A Divorce Case?
Possibly a Murder? Who knows? Perhaps somebody may have met the bevy
down West, and can throw some light upon the subject. Meantime, dear
_Mr. Punch_, I beg to subscribe myself,

  Yours respectfully,

       *       *       *       *       *

"SHORT NOTICE."--Those who did not hear Mr. GEORGE GROSSMITH'S
entertainment at St. James's Hall last Saturday week lost a very great
treat. There must have been thousands in London at the moment who
suffered this deprivation. Our Special Noticer was among the number.
Let us hope GEE-GEE will do it again, and all shall be forgiven.

       *       *       *       *       *


_A Group omitted from the Military Exhibition._]

       *       *       *       *       *



_House of Commons, Monday, June 2._--Heligoland is safe, but
there were some anxious moments. GEORGE CAMPBELL led attack. House
reassembled after Whitsun recess. Not many present. OLD MORALITY still
sporting in the country, toying with Amaryllis in the shade, or with
tangles of Neaera's hair. (That's how the Member for Sark puts it,
but admits that it's only poetry.) Mr. G. away too, also GRANDOLPH and
HARTINGTON. JOKIM in charge of Government ship; evidently in mildest
mood; didn't once pounce, though sorely tempted by all-pervadingness
of CAMPBELL. That eminent Statesman only began with Heligoland;
steamed later into the Pacific Seas, and moved reduction of salary of
Deputy Commissioner of the Western Pacific. Wants Heligoland given up.

"Certainly not," said NICHOLAS WOOD; "must take firm stand with these
Separatists. Not quite sure in what part of Ireland Heligoland is
situated. Sounds like Munster; must look it up on map. Meanwhile shall
support BALFOUR."

Whilst NICHOLAS off in library, vainly looking over map of Ireland,
SAGE OF QUEEN ANNE'S GATE backs up CAMPBELL. Knows Heligoland
intimately. Seems to have passed best period of useful life there.
Members quite prepared to hear that there it was the famous letter
from Foreign Office found him when, by way of reproof of niggardliness
of Department, he was obeying instructions that transferred him from
Dresden to Constantinople by journeying on foot. Taking Heligoland
_en route_, he found it a mere sandbank, an accumulation of molecules,
whose existence was justified only by the opportunity of furnishing
a scion of the British aristocracy with an annual salary as Governor.
"Hand it over to Germany, in exchange, if you please, for few pounds
of sausages; but get rid of it."

NICHOLAS, coming back after vain search for Heligoland on map of
Ireland, lustily shouts, "No!" "No use arguing with these fellows,
TOBY," he says; "we must Put Them Down. Case seems a little mixed;
don't quite follow argument. Rather wonder ARTHUR BALFOUR isn't in
his place to explain it; at same time, haven't slightest doubt it's
another Mitchelstown affair--another Middle Tipperary muddle. I shall
watch to see which Lobby our Whips are filling, and march straight
into it."

Thus Heligoland was saved, NICHOLAS and 149 others voting against
CAMPBELL, who led into the Lobby only 27 patriots. After this, that
man of war, JAMES STUART ALLANSON TUDOR PICTON, came to the front,
and led Opposition in matter relating to Sierra Leone. GEORGE CAMPBELL
made several speeches on this topic, and when Amendment negatived,
came up quite fresh with his story of the Pacific Seas, where it seems
there have been excursions, followed by alarums, all converging on
urgent necessity of reducing the salary of the Deputy Commissioner
of the Western Pacific by £200. This also negatived after couple of
hours' discussion. Then GEORGE, stepping lightly from Western Pacific
to the Cape, moved to reduce salary of High Commissioner of South
Africa by £1000.

"A regular peripatetic seven-leagued-boot mowing-machine," said
JACKSON, gazing dreamily on mobile features of Member for Kircaldy.
Business done.--In Committee of Supply.

_Tuesday._--Question is, shall House adjourn over to-morrow, being
Derby Day, or shall it forbear? ELCHO says, "Yes." WILFRID LAWSON
says, "No." House, upon consideration, agrees with ELCHO, though by
significantly small majority. For holiday, 160; against, 133. COGHILL,
who had vainly protested against adjournment, says majority not so
wide as a church door, but 'twill serve. It's the writing on the wall,
and the Derby holiday in the Commons doomed. COGHILL serious young
man; likes things to be doomed; encouraged by the prospect, becomes
dangerously festive.

Member who moves Adjournment over Derby Day expected to be funny. PAM,
who, when he was Minister, always did it, established fashion. Been
followed in later days by DICK POWER, and other eminent sportsmen.
ELCHO displayed paternal failing for undue length, but just managed
to stop in time, not spoiling success of speech that greatly pleased
House. Curious to note points of personal resemblance between the
new Lord ELCHO and the old. Son, doubtless designedly, delivered his
speech from corner-seat on front Bench below Gangway, whence, in days
of yore, the father used to hold forth, almost literally buttonholing
House of Commons; holding on to it in much same way as _Ancient
Mariner_ delayed the hungry wedding guest.

"Happy," says the Member for Sark, "is the Legislature that can spare
an ELCHO for either Chamber! Favoured the generation that succeeds
to such an inheritance! With WEMYSS in the Lords, and ELCHO in the
Commons, there is still hope for my country!"

[Illustration: A Serious Young Man.]

Talk about Police Regulation for Procession on Saturday to demonstrate
against Compensation Bill. Citizen PICKERSGILL moved adjournment
of House in order to discuss matter. CUNNINGHAME-GRAHAM seized
opportunity to run amuck at his revered Leaders on Front Opposition
Bench. Accused them of sitting there like stuffed figures at Madame
Tussaud's. "Why stuffed?" JOHN MOBLEY asked, but CUNNINGHAME-GRAHAM
not to be interrupted in flush of eloquence. When once started went
at them hammer and tongs; only a few battered figures recognisable on
Front Bench when he had finished.

"Fact is, TOBY," he said, "BRADLAUGH'S got his eye on that Bench.
Means to sit there some day. Want him to know that even that sanctuary
shall not preserve him from my wrath. Just getting my hand in.
He'll be sorry he ever ventured to bite his thumb at me." _Business
done._--Education Vote in Committee.

_Thursday._--Lord CHUNNEL-TANNEL moves Second Reading of his Bill. A
very inoffensive measure, he says; not proposed to sanction creation
of Tunnel under the sea. Oh, dear no! Nothing of that kind. All
that is wanted is that the Company shall be permitted to keep their
machinery oiled, bore for coal, and fill up spare time by fishing for
whitebait with line. Could there be any harm in that? CHUNNEL-TANNEL
asked, with hand outstretched with deprecating gesture towards
Treasury Bench, on which the long length of HICKS BEACH was coiled.

[Illustration: Citizen Pickersgill.]

Mr. G. backed up his noble friend; ridiculed idea of danger to England
from creation of Tunnel. If anybody had need for apprehension, it was
France--a fine, subtly patriotic idea, which did not meet with that
measure of applause on Conservative Benches that might have been
expected. Fact is, Conservatives don't like this newly established
friendliness between Mr. G. and CHUNNEL-TANNEL. Noble Lord not so
certain to respond to crack of Ministerial Whip as was his wont
before he yielded to the spell. Stout Ministerialists thinking more
of CHUNNEL-TANNEL'S attitude on Irish Question than of probability of
French invasion by proposed Tunnel; so they lustily cheer HICKS-BEACH
when he denounces scheme. Cry, "Oh! oh!" when CHUNNEL-TANNEL makes
crafty appeal for support of Irish Members, and go out in body to stop
up the Tunnel.

J. S. FORBES watches scene from Strangers' Gallery. Lost in admiration
of CHUNNEL-TANNEL'S meek mood.

"Why, TOBY," he said, in his perturbation brushing his new
curly-brimmed hat the wrong way, "he looks as if butter wouldn't
melt in his mouth. His low voice, his deferential manner, his pained
surprise at suggestion of wanting to do anything else but catch
those whitebait with a line, take one's breath away. A wonderful man
CHUNNEL-TANNEL, but dangerous on this tack. Known him and fought him
man and boy for twenty years; fear him most when in melting mood."
_Business done._--Discussing Tithes Bill.

_Friday._--Met HART DYKE walking about Corridor with contemplative
air. Debate on Education Vote going forward in House. "How is it you
aren't on Treasury Bench?" I asked.

"Can't stand any more of it, TOBY. My hair positively beginning to
frizzle under heat of blushes. Never suspected myself of being
such Heavenborn Education Minister. But they all say it--MUNDELLA,
so sure; but on other side one chorus of approval. Bore it pretty well
for hour or so; but at end of that time grows embarrassing. Just came
out for little walk; look in again presently."

On Report of Supply, GEORGE CAMPBELL strolled in from the Pacific;
proposed to call attention to mission of Sir LINTON SIMMONS to the
POPE. No Vote connected therewith happens to be in Estimates; so
SPEAKER ruled him out of Order.

[Illustration: Minister of Education.]

"Oh, very well," said GEORGE; "that's out of order is it? Well, let
me see, there's Japan;" and he talked for thirty-five minutes about

_Business done._--Education Vote agreed to.

       *       *       *       *       *


(_A Prophecy of the Near Future._)

THE children had left the school, and the pianos were closed for the
night. The Senior Wranglers who had been conducting the lessons were
divesting themselves of their academical robes, and preparing to
quit the premises to return to their palatial homes, the outcome of a
portion of their princely salaries. In couples they disappeared until
only one was left--he was older than his colleagues, and consequently
slower in his movements. As he was about to summon his carriage a
wild-looking individual suddenly appeared before him, and, sinking in
a chair, appealed to him with a gesture that, fraught with weakness,
was yet defiant.

"What do you want with me, my good man?" asked the Senior Wrangler,
who had a kindly nature.

"What have you done with my sons?" gasped the visitor.

"No doubt, if they were intended for crossing-sweepers, we have
instructed them in the rudiments of classical dancing, and if you
purposed bringing them up as errand-boys, it is highly probable that
we have taught them how to play upon the harpsichord."

"That's how it is!" cried the other. "They _have_ been taught how to
play on the harpsichord; and, as the instrument is obsolete, I ask
you, Sir, how are they to get their living?"

"That is no affair of mine, my good fellow," returned the Senior
Wrangler, dryly. "It is my duty to teach the child, and not to answer
the questions of the parent."

"And the rates are doubled!" cried the Board Scholar's father,
wringing his hands in despair, "and I am ruined!" The Senior Wrangler
was growing impatient. He had to dine at the Club, and go to the
Opera. "Well, what do you want with me?" he asked.

"Employment!" cried the other, in an agony of woe. "Give me
employment. I have been ruined by the rates; let the rates support
me--give me employment!"

The Senior Wrangler considered for a moment; then he spoke--

"Do you think, my friend, that you could look after our highest
class?" The man shook his head.

"I am afraid not, Sir. My education was neglected. Beyond reading,
writing, and arithmetic, I know next to nothing."

"That will not be an objection," returned the Senior Wrangler, as he
put a gardenia in his button-hole. "Our highest class is composed of
our oldest pupils, and as they all suffer from over-pressure, your
duties will be simply those of an attendant in an asylum for the care
of the imbecile!" And the Ruined Ratepayer was entirely satisfied.

       *       *       *       *       *

--> 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 281: MAGGIE MCINTYRE, _Wednesday_ becomes MAGGIE MACINTYRE on

    Both have been retained, as the transcriber does not know which
is correct, or if the two were interchangeable.

Page 287: 'posesssion' corrected to 'possession':
          "In calm possession of some upper floor".

In this etext a carat denotes a superscript follows.

*** End of this Doctrine Publishing Corporation Digital Book "Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 98, June 14 1890" ***

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