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Title: Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 98, June 21 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 21 1890" ***

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI

VOLUME 98, JUNE 21ST 1890

_edited by Sir Francis Burnand_



"PLACE AUX DAMES!"

    [Following the brilliant success of Miss FAWCETT at Cambridge,
    Mlle. BELCESCO, a Roumanian lady, took her degree to-day
    as _Docteur en Droit_. Like Miss FAWCETT, she obtained the
    highest place at the examination for the Licentiate's Degree,
    and her success was not less brilliant at the examination for
    the Doctor's Degree.--_"Daily News" Paris Correspondent._]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: "SENIORA FAWCETT."

_So to be entitled henceforth, as she is Seniorer to the Senior
Wrangler._]

  To Seniora FAWCETT,
    The Wranglers yield first place;
  And now, first of the Law set,
    One of another race,
  Beauty, Brunette, Roumanian,
    From man takes top Degree!
  In learning's race Melanion
    Is beaten, one can see,
  By the new Atalanta;
    At Law School or Sorbonne,
  As at our native Granta,
    The girls the prize have won.
  Bravo, brunette BELCESCO!
    Some limner ought to draw
  A quasi-classic fresco,
    O Lady of the Law!
  O Mathematic Maiden!
    And show the pretty pair
  With Learning's trophies laden
    And manhood in a scare.
  Ah, _Portia_ of Paris!
    _Urania_ of the Cam!
  _Punch_, whose especial care is
    To sever truth from sham,
  Is no great Woman's-Rightist,
    But _this_ is not clap-trap;
  Of pundits the politest,
    To you he lifts his cap!
  _Docteur en Droit_, _Punch_ watches
    Miss FAWCETT by the Cam;
  To you she quick despatches
    A friendly telegram.
  He, friend of all the Nations,
    Of Woman as of Man,
  Adds _his_ "felicitations."
    Well done, Roumanian!!!

       *       *       *       *       *

WEEK BY WEEK.

The prevalence of wet weather has had a painful effect on the aspect
of the metropolitan streets. We do not refer so much to their having
been universally inundated with rain, but rather to the absence from
them of those pretty dresses in which it is customary for ladies
to disport themselves during sunny weather. For instance, it was
calculated the other day by a well-known wrangler, that if the
tangential surface of a Bond Street pavement be represented by the
formula: x([Greek: pi] + y^{n^th}) = y + x - [Greek: pi]/x, the
decrease in the number of pedestrians appearing on a wet day may be
set down as 18426-1/52.

       *       *       *       *       *

A Correspondent calls our attention to the prevalence of green on the
various trees of the Metropolis. "This phenomenon," he observes, "is
noticeable in May and early June every year. Some trees are greener
than others, whilst others scarcely come up to the standard of leafy
verdure displayed by their fellows. Taking the trees in the Park and
arranging them in the inverse ratio of their distances at rectangular
intervals from the common centre of their growth, it will be found
that the surface area of a Plane-tree is equal to exactly five hundred
times the cubic capacity of a gooseberry bush, measured from a point
on its inner circumference."

       *       *       *       *       *

Miss ROBINSON, Mrs. TOUCHE-ARMING, and Lady CORDELIA CROSSBIT, were
photographed yesterday. We hear that excellent likenesses of these
brilliant ornaments of the Upper Ten have been secured.

       *       *       *       *       *

The wonderful tameness and docility of the three African lions now
going through their daily performance at the French Exhibition at
Earl's Court, have astonished no less than pleased all who have
witnessed them, but it is not generally known, that their obedient
condition is due to their diet. This has for some time consisted of
a well-known infant's and invalid's food, washed down with copious
draughts of a widely advertised patent medicine that claims to act as
"a special brain and nerve tonic," and it is this last that it is said
is responsible for the quenching of the natural ferocity and utter
prostration of spirit which enables their talented trainer, together
with the watchful attentions of a highly intelligent boar-hound, to
put them through a series of playful and innocent tricks, hitherto
associated rather with the entertaining efforts of the skilled and
educated guinea-pig than with the masterly ferocity of the monarch of
the desert. [Oh yes! We're not going to allow an advertisement to be
sneaked in like this. But as we required a paragraph to fill up space,
here it is, with name and address of Infant's Food provider omitted!
Aha!--ED.]

       *       *       *       *       *

A WHITE SLAVE.

    [Miss HARKER took service as a day governess in a family at
    Stockton, at a salary of 25_s._ a month, coupled with the
    privilege of dining in the house. She found herself under the
    necessity of taking a lodging, the rent for which more than
    absorbed her modest stipend. She taught three children English
    and music. Afterwards a couple of infants were placed in her
    charge. Nor was this all, for when the servants left, the new
    governess had "to cook the dinner, wash the dishes, and clean
    the knives." After this she asked for a holiday, the result
    being that "she was shown the door." Thereupon she brought
    an action in the County Court for a month's salary in lieu
    of notice. Judgment for plantiff with costs, payable
    forthwith.--_Daily News, June 12._]

  Poor Miss HARKER went to Stockton, to Stockton on the Tees,
  But not to make her fortune, or to loll at home at ease;
  She went to be a governess, and hoped, it would appear,
  To board and lodge and dress herself on £15 a-year.

  A lady once informed us how a lady can be dressed
  As a lady all for £15, and in her very best;
  But she never would have ventured to include in her account
  The lodgings and the breakfasts too for this immense amount.

  Now life may be a river, as Pactolus was of old,
  Which brings you lots of water to a minimum of gold,
  But sometimes it were better, when the water sinks so low
  That it fails to turn your mill-wheel, if the river ceased to flow.

  So all day long with urchins three Miss HARKER toiled in chains,
  And she poured the oil of learning well upon their rusty brains,
  And she practised them in music, and she polished up their sense
  With the adverbs and the adjectives, and verbs in mood and tense.

  And they said, "She's doing nicely, we will give her something more
  (Not of money, but of labour) ere we show her to the door,
  Why, we've got two baby children, it is really only fair
  That Miss HARKER should look after them, and wash and dress the
          pair.

  "And, Miss HARKER, it will save us such a lot of trouble too,
  If, when our servants leave us, they can leave their work to you.
  So you'll please to cook our dinner, let your motto be _Ich Dien_,
  (No, no, you needn't thank us) and you'll keep our dishes clean.

  "And, of course, you'll do it daily--what was that you dared to say?
  You would like to rest a week or so, and want a holiday?
  Who ever heard such nonsense? Well, there's one thing we can show,
  Not politeness, but the door to you--Miss H. you'd better go."

  So she went, but brought her action, and I'm thankful to relate
  That when the case was argued she hadn't long to wait.
  "Costs and judgment for the plaintiff, the defendants' case is
          fudge,
  Pay her monthly wage, she's earned it and deserves it," said the
          Judge.

  There be Englishmen in England, sleek men, and women too,
  Who tie their purse-strings tighter than tradition's grasping Jew.
  What care they for fellow-feeling, who for profit try to lure
  Fellow creatures to their grindstone for the faces of the poor?

  And they set some wretched slave to work her fingers to the bone,
  Then sullenly deny her bread, or give at best a stone;
  And after she has grubbed and scrubbed, they insolently sneer
  At one who dares to ask for rest on £15 a-year.
       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: "IF YOU WANT TO KNOW THE TRUTH, ASK A P'LICEMAN!"

_As Sung by the Not-quite-at-Home Secretary in his Unpopular
Entertainment._

  WHY _DID_ MONRO RESIGN?
  WAS IT ANY FAULT OF MINE?

  IF YOU WANT TO KNOW THE TRUTH--
  ASK THE P'LICEMAN!]

       *       *       *       *       *

"ASK A P'LICEMAN!"

MR. M-TTH-WS _sings_:--

  The Police Force are a noble lot,
    They clear our streets and squares;
  To Demonstrators give it hot,
    And banish civic scares.
  But there's one thing I wish to know;
    Why do the public grin
  When one Commissioner will go,
    And t'other won't stop in?

  _Chorus._

  Why _did_ MONRO resign?
            Ask a P'liceman!
  Was it any fault of mine?
            Ask a P'liceman!
  Every member of the Force
  Backs the popular Boss--of course!
  If you want to know the truth,
            Ask a P'liceman!

  I'm very sure I'm always right,
    And yet it's vastly queer,
  My Secretary's aid they slight,
    My Pension-projects jeer.
  My Superannuation plan
    Won't wash--at Scotland Yard.
  They seem against me to a man.
    It's really very hard.

  _Chorus._

  If you'd know why WARREN went,
             Ask a P'liceman!
  Or why MONRO'S not content,
             Ask a P'liceman!
  Isn't it enough to vex
  The most genial of Home-Secs.?
  If you want an answer--plump,
             Ask a P'liceman!

  I'm getting quite unpopular;
    I can't imagine why.
  If in the Force itself there's war,
    'Gainst _me_ there'll be a cry.
  Fancy our Constables on strike
    For Eight Hours, and the rest!
  The prospect's one I do not like.
  P'licemen, _don't_ be a pest!

  _Chorus (in which_ Mr. M-T-TH-WS
  _does not join_.)

  If you want to know the facts,
            Ask a P'liceman!
  About M-TTH-WS and his acts,
            Ask a P'liceman!
  If you wish the truth to know
  About popular MONRO,
  And who _next_ ought to resign,
            Ask a P'liceman!!!

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: A NASTY ONE.

_Miss Smith (to Brown, who has just been relating an amusing personal
experience)._ "HOW GOOD! AND DID IT REALLY HAPPEN TO YOU?"

_Brown._ "YES, _REALLY_--ONLY YESTERDAY!"

_Jones (his hated rival)._ "AH! BUT I CAN TELL YOU A STILL OLDER STORY
THAN THAT, ABOUT A FELLOW WHO----" [_Tells a regular Joe Miller._
]

       *       *       *       *       *

MR. PUNCH'S DICTIONARY OF PHRASES.

SOCIAL.

"_You'll come again soon?_" _i.e._, "Thank goodness, he's going
abroad!"

"_Always make time to see you_;" _i.e._, "Strict orders to servants,
'Not at home.'"

THEATRICAL.

"_Miss Blank will make her first appearance in Juliet at a Matinée_;"
_i.e._, That some theatrical coach sees his way to making a little
additional profit out of a wealthy and ambitious pupil.

"_Why don't you look in?--house crammed every night, but always room
for you_;" _i.e._, Last attempt to place a free admission when
the theatre is empty, and the vouchers have been refused at the
poster-displaying tobacconists.

       *       *       *       *       *

BACK TO BACKS.

The Cambridge Week, delightful. Beautiful weather till I left, and
after me--the deluge! Fair faces everywhere, and O those beautiful
"Backs"! As the poet sang--

  "Ye Backs and Braes!"

Why lug in "Braes"? Fronts may be, and have been, false, but never
these "Backs." They never looked lovelier than at the commencement
of last week,--fine weather, warm, a gentle breeze. Lucky Cantabs, to
have such an idyllic idling place, where you can moon, spoon, stroll,
study, work or play, and, if in your boat, smoke, for the pernicious
weed is forbidden in the well-kept gardens, though it may be indulged
in on the water, beneath whose surface another pernicious weed can be
seen luxuriating.

Once more I visit the A. D. C., and witness a capital performance of
a burlesque, _Der Freischütz_, founded on one of H. J. BYRON'S, and
written up to date by a precious STONE. Burlesque is not dead! Very
far from it. The "Sacred Lamp" is not even flickering, but burning
with undiminished brilliancy. For a time learned Thebans essayed to
extinguish it with High Comedy and even Shakspearian Drama. But the A.
D. C. was meant for recreation, and no Undergraduate saw any amusement
in either performing or witnessing High Comedy or an historical Drama
by WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE. Relaxation for the pale student was needed, so
dancing and singing, and jokes, topical hits, and comic business,
drew big houses, and amused both players and audiences. The classical
Puritanical rebellion was over, and the Merry Monarch, King Burlesque,
was restored to his throne, merrier than ever. A crowded house, and I
am informed crowdeder and crowdeder every night.

The burlesque is a good one, as the story of _Der Freischütz_ is
closely parodied, and it is not a mere variety show. And the actors
are as much in earnest as the other actors were in earnest, terrible
earnest, just thirty-five years ago, for the date over the proscenium
reminds me that the A. D. C. was founded in 1855. There are some
old original members down here, and they regard some old original
photographs of themselves when they were all boys together in this
A. D. C. The photographs are of beardless youths, all very much in
earnest. The middle-aged, grey-bearded men are contemplating their
former selves with an air of surprise. "Dear me! and those were us!"
they exclaim, in Academical English. They see themselves as others
saw them then, and they are secretly disappointed, though they soon
recover their serenity, and with pride to think their lineaments have
been preserved and handed down from generation to generation, they
bring up their wives and daughters to look at the pictures, and to
listen to their "tales of a grandfather."

Alas! the photographs are fading, and soon, but for the extant history
of the A. D. C., dedicated to its Honorary President, H.R.H., the
Prince of WALES, its origin would be lost in the obscurity of the
dark ages (before they were the grey ages), or be so confused and
intermingled with myth as to render any account of its early days
untrustworthy.

And what a crowd, driving, walking, riding, to see the boat-races!
Quite a little Water Derby Day. So much talk about "bumps," that
a stranger would think he had come to hear an open-air lecture on
phrenology.

One more lounge in the "Backs," and then to London and work, while
happy Undergrads commence their Long Vacation, and make holiday in
the sunshine of life. But roam where you will, never will you find any
spot to equal these Backs. _O Fortunati Cantabiles!_ _Backs vobiscum!_

As a barrister I love a refresher, and this flying visit has, indeed,
been a refresher to one who drinks to Trin. Coll. Cam. and the A.
D. C. in a bumper of '75 Margaux, and is able, after that, to sign
himself, academically and Lincolnsinnically, the

  MARQUIS DE TERMES.

PS.--Wouldn't this Claretian name of "Marquis DE TERMES" be a good
title for the Markiss of SALISBURY, that "master of flouts and gibes"?

       *       *       *       *       *

ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.

EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M.P.

_House of Commons, Monday, June 9._--Last time I saw OLD MORALITY
was in the lovely estuary of the Dart. He had just cut away from
Parliament, called together his seamen bold, and steamed out Westward
in the _Pandora_. When we on the _Hiawatha_ woke up on Sunday
morning, there was the _Pandora_ lying alongside, with OLD MORALITY
in pea-jacket, straw hat, telescope under his arm, and sea-boots
above his knees, though there was not a ripple on face of water that
mirrored the old castle at the point, the church, the trees, and the
green hills. Nevertheless, there he was, pacing the mizzen-deck, every
now and then bringing his telescope to his weather eye, on the
look out for Irish Members or SAGE OF QUEEN ANNE'S GATE lurking in
underwood. We ran up at our foretopmost peak, all taut by a couple of
bowlines, the signal, "England expects that W. H. SMITH this day will
do his duty." There was a soft gleam in OLD MORALITY'S starboard eye
when he recognised the signal, and he brought the telescope to the
salute.

"Very kind of you, TOBY; very thoughtful of your Commodore. You know,
nothing is nearer to my heart than the desire to do my duty--duty
to my QUEEN and Country; at the same time, of course as far as
is compatible with the supreme incentive, desiring to meet the
convenience of Hon. Gentlemen in all parts of the House."

Haven't seen OLD MORALITY since, till he turned up to-night, Been
seedy, everybody sorry to hear; judiciously added a week to his
regular holiday. When he entered House this afternoon, good rattling
cheer went up, testifying to his popularity.

"Yes," said WILFRID LAWSON, dropping into poetry--

  "Ex-First-Lord from over the sea!
  Celt, Home-Ruler, whatever we be,
  "We all like OLD MORALI-TEE."

Irish Land Purchase Bill first Order of day, but JOHN DILLON moves
Adjournment, to discuss goings on of Police in Tipperary. PRINCE
ARTHUR, amidst constant interruptions, makes angry reply. His speech
introduces variation on old Constitutional principle.

"The Police," he says in effect, "can do no wrong--at least, in
Ireland."

Mr. G. joins in demands for Parliamentary inquiry. WILLIAM O'BRIEN,
almost hoarse with rage, fulminates against PRINCE ARTHUR and all
his works. But though apparently seethed in passion, does not lose
presence of mind.

"I know," he shouted, "every Dissentient Liberal in this House,"
(here his copy of the Orders, which he had fashioned in rough shape
resembling police baton, and flourished in dangerous fashion, came
down with enormous thud on crown of hat of TOM SUTHERLAND, who
happened to be sitting just beneath him) "--and that's one," O'BRIEN
continued.

[Illustration: The Chairman of P. and O. after Remark from Mr.
O'Brien.]

"Surely," I said to him afterwards, "you didn't mean to call attention
to the Chairman of the P. and O. in that fashion?"

"Not a bit of it. I was going to say, 'I know every Dissentient
Liberal in this House will support the Government in the Division
Lobby;' but when in the middle of the sentence I found I'd come down
on SUTHERLAND'S hat, I thought it would make less fuss if I turned the
remark in the way I left it."

Ingenious this; but SUTHERLAND says, he understands now why many
of the Irish Members are accustomed to wear low-crowned hats during
Parliamentary Debate. Comes a little expensive to sit about listening
with a silk hat on.

_Business done._--Land Purchase Bill in Committee.

_Tuesday._--GRANDOLPH'S seat empty. Not been here since House resumed
after Whitsun holidays. Looked for to-night. Has first place on Orders
with Instruction on going into Committee on Compensation Bill.
SPEAKER been going about with a besom brushing away Instructions.
Only GRANDOLPH'S stands, a monument to his adroitness and ingenuity.
Opposition looking forward to pleasant evening. If GRANDOLPH makes
rattling speech in support of his Instruction, it will make things
disagreeable for the Ministry. Moment comes, but GRANDOLPH lingers.
Cousin CURZON gets up, announces that GRANDOLPH has heard that
Government intend to oppose the Instruction. That being so, he does
not think it expedient, in interests of public business, to persevere
with it. So will stay in Paris, look through the Luxembourg, loiter in
the Louvre, lunch in the Eiffel Tower, and otherwise innocently wile
the hours away.

"No," said Cousin CURZON, when I observed that this was not like the
GRANDOLPH of old times; "he is much altered; as meek as he was
once aggressive. Shudders at the thought of causing a moment's
inconvenience to a Government of which GEORGIE HAMILTON is an
ornament; quite surprised to learn that Government would oppose
Amendment, the carrying of which would be equivalent to defeat
of their measure. When he heard of it at once decided to drop his
Instruction."

_Business done._--In Committee on Compensation Bill.

_Wednesday._--House sitting; Members talking; Bills advanced by
stages; but thoughts of Members concentrated on secret OLD MORALITY
carries in his placid bosom. What proposals are Government going to
make for arrangement of public business? Are they going to drop three
Bills, or two, or one, or carry all three? If so, how is it to be
done? by Autumn Session? by peremptory Closure? or by new device
of carrying over measures into succeeding Session? Over a cup of
five-o'clock, taken in his private room, I frankly put these questions
to OLD MORALITY. No use beating about the bush when you are with old
friends.

"TOBY," he says, as I light another cigarette, and settle myself
to hear the disclosure, "recent morphological inquiry has a curious
bearing on this point. Biologists have lately been busy discussing
the meaning of a certain organ, to which, in the present stage of its
development, it appears impossible to assign any utilitarian value.
The case I allude to is the electric organ in the tail of the skate,
on which Professor COSSAR EWART read a paper before the Royal Society.
You will find a full report of it in _Phil. Trans._, Vol. LXXIX. Other
aquatic animals which possess such organs use them to advantage as
electric batteries against their foes. They feel impelled to do so,
by what I may perhaps distantly allude to as a sense of duty to their
QUEEN and Country. But the electric organ of the skate, though a most
complicated mechanism, a structure as elaborate as any in the animal
kingdom, appears to be of no benefit whatever to its possessor. This
is a very curious thing. I can hardly sleep of nights thinking
about it. Can you suggest any explanation? Excuse me, there's the
division-bell. Perhaps you'll draw me up a little memorandum giving me
your views on the subject."

Very curious indeed. I hadn't mentioned the skate; don't quite see
how he slided into the subject. Shall take another opportunity of
ascertaining OLD MORALITY'S views and intentions with respect to
Government plan for arranging business.

_Business done._--As to electric organ in the tail of the skate.

_Thursday._--A pretty kettle-of-fish. Electric organ of skate seems to
have touched up Government; confusion at Carlton to-day. The MARKISS
met his merry men; proposed that Bills not completed by Prorogation
should be carried over to next Session and taken up at stage reached
this year. Loud outcry in Conservative ranks; proposal denounced as
revolutionary; wouldn't have it on any terms; meeting broke up without
passing any resolution; OLD MORALITY due at House at half-past three
to give notice of Resolutions on Procedure.

"Where are they?" Mr. G. asks, beaming across the table.

"Resolutions?" says OLD MORALITY; "bless you, Sir, I have none to
move."

Grim silence on Ministerial Benches. Jubilation in Opposition camp.
OLD MORALITY plied with questions from all sides; forlornly shakes his
head. Can't say anything now. Can't say when he will be able to say
something. Perhaps on Monday; perhaps some other day. Baited for half
an hour, and then mercifully allowed to escape.

"The tail seems, after all, to have been wagging the skate," I said,
humorously; really sorry to find him so low-spirited. Didn't seem to
see the point of joke, and usually so apt at badinage. A curious state
of affairs; perhaps a memorable day.

_Business done._--In Committee on Compensation Bill.

_Friday._--"Lo! a strange thing has happened." (W. BLACK.) Yesterday
Conservatives in open revolt; Ministry seemed tottering; Opposition
jubilant. To-day things righted themselves; the rebels say it was
only their fun; Dissentient Liberals throw arms round neck of MARKISS;
protest they would never desert him; Opposition depressed; Ministers
elate.

"The head seems to have got the better of the complicated mechanism
in the rear of the skate," I say to OLD MORALITY, a little timidly,
remembering failure of yesterday's flash of humour. Quick comes the
beaming smile. "You're a funny dog, TOBY," says OLD MORALITY, looking
ten years younger than yesterday.

_Business done._--In Committee on Compensation Bill.

       *       *       *       *       *

AT HIS MAYERJESTY'S.

[Illustration: Harlequinade.]

_Paris Fin de Siècle_, Mr. MAYER'S second transplantation from the
Gymnase to Her Majesty's Theatre, is amusing from first to last--that
is to say, from 8.15 to close on midnight. The Comedy rattles along,
and carries the audience who understand French--who in their turn
carry the audience who pretend to do so, but who don't--with it. The
acting is excellent; and the dialogue is as bright as the looks and
toilettes of the dozen or more ladies who have parts. It is not quite
clear what "_fin de siècle_" means. If it is Paris of to-day that is
pictured, it certainly cannot be the Paris of five years hence, and
the century has yet ten years to run. But whatever is the purpose
of the play, it satisfied the audience which, on the first night,
included H.R.H. and the PRINCESS OF WALES, together with "all London."

The plot is simple. _Alfred de Mirandol_ (M. NOBLET), of the
_tout Paris_ set, is engaged to the daughter of the _Marquis de
Boissy-Godet_--so he tells everyone who chances to be breakfasting
at BIGNON'S, where the first scene is laid--and, without anything
particular happening to either of them during the next three Acts, he
remains engaged to the young lady when the curtain falls. Then he has
a _non fin de siècle_ friend, fresh from Brittany, who proposes to
a charming widow, charmingly looked and played by Madame SISOS, who
accepts him, and lands him in a duel with a Spanish Duke (cleverly
played by M. PAUL PLAN) about her Milliner's bill. No one is hurt,
but the incident--the only incident to speak of--furnishes a scene in
which the four _fin de siècle_ seconds are continually forgetting the
business on which they are met, and drift into baccarat. Then Madame
DESCLAUZAS is a Marquise who is so busy with her various charitable
institutions that she has not seen her husband for a week, and forgets
all about her daughter's marriage.

To London 1890 the Marquise, though unquestionably inimitable, seems
slightly loud. English Marchionesses do not as a rule wink. But _Paris
Fin de Siècle_ is altogether beyond London 1890. English people do not
know enough of the formalities attending the arrangement of duels
to fully appreciate M. NOBLET'S forgetfulness of his duties; nor do
English ladies, as yet, give Harlequin Balls, at which the gentlemen
wear red evening coats,--it was not a hunt-ball of course; nor does
London 1890 see any particular point in the _monde_ being shown as
frivolous and dissipated, while the _demi-monde_ will not permit
smoking in the drawing-room, and generally plays propriety. So _Paris
Fin de Siècle_ may be true to nature, for all English people know
about it. Whether it is or is not, it is just as amusing, and well
worth seeing.

       *       *       *       *       *

OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.

JAMES THE FIRST, of America, not to be confounded even by his enemies
with the Old or Young Pretender, is bringing out his book entitled,
_The Gentle Art of Making Enemies_, which line represents only a third
of the entire title. The celebrated Butterfly signature flitters and
flutters from leaf to leaf throughout the book, which in itself, in
its binding, print, and arrangement, is a work of Art of which the
publishers, Messrs. HEINEMANN, may be justly proud, and which must
rejoice the soul of JAMES PRIMUS AMERICANUS, Ex-President, R.S.B.A.
The BARON has great pleasure in drawing attention--(he is gifted is
the BARON, "drawing" as well as writing, you'll observe)--to a rare
specimen of the _Papilio Whistleriensis_ which adorns this paragraph,
and hopes, on another occasion, to have a few remarks to offer on the
many genuine Jacobean epistles contained in this dainty volume which
is issued, as the short preface informs us, under the Ex-P.R.B.A.'s
"immediate care and supervision," and as a counterblast from LE
SIFFLEUR against "a spurious and garbled version" of his writings
already put into circulation. It was about time for JACQUES LE
SIFFLEUR to come out for a blow; which blow it is more blessed to give
than to receive, _dicit_ the BARON DE BOOK-WORMS.

       *       *       *       *       *

THE OPERA-GOER'S DIARY.

_Monday._--_Les Huguenots._ Madame NORDICA as our _Valentine_. She is
_toujours riante_. Otherwise, vocally, charming. RAVELLI the Reliable
as _Raoul_, much applauded and quite two inches higher in popular
estimation. _Valentina_ NORDICA cannot take anything seriously. She
smiles as she is wont to smile at the supreme moment of his great
athletic window-jump, when he is shot out of window and killed so
thoroughly that he cannot be produced for the last Act of all, which,
therefore, is now never given. Simple-minded folk, not up to this,
wait in their stalls, and wonder why everybody else is going. Members
of orchestra disappear, lights extinguished, brown-holland coverings
descend, the fireman enters, the box-keepers retire, and suddenly it
bursts upon the inexperienced Opera-goer that it's all over, except
shouting for carriages, and that's over too by now, and that there is
to be no more Opera to-night.

  L'entr'acte est long,
    Un peu d'espoir,
  There's no more song,
    Et puis bon soir.

M. LASSALLE as the French nobleman, whom some one described as "_Sam
Bris_," excellent. Good house for the _Huguenots_.

_Tuesday._--Here we are _Lohengrinning_ again. _Lohengrin_ not a comic
opera: the name being rather misleading. Melodious, mellifluous
Mlle. MELBA as _Elsa de Brabante_. NED DE RESZKÉ as the _Great King_,
FURSCH-MADI-GRAS unrivalled as _Ortruda_, DAN DRADY as _Freddy_, one
of his most dramatic performances; Signor ABRAMOFF as the _Family
Herald_--quite a volume--and JACK DE RESZKÉ as a _Knight on the
Swannee River_, or perhaps a knightly visitor from Swansea. Poor JACK
suffering from hoarseness. DRURIOLANUS comes forward to explain this.
Audience imagines that DRURIOLANUS himself is going to take poor
JACK'S place. Rather disappointed in consequence. "Could have done it,
of course," says DRURIOLANUS afterwards, "but bad example for other
members of the governing committee." JACK DE R.'S hoarseness scarcely
noticeable. No one would have known it if DRURIOLANUS hadn't told us.
Some people can't keep a secret.

_Wednesday._--_Vide_ last Wednesday's report. Only difference being
that Signor PLUNKETTO GREENO is not _in statu quo ante_, the part of
the _Commendatore, M.P. for Stony Stratford_, being taken by Signor DE
VASCHETTI.

_Thursday._--Missed it. _Romeo et Juliette._ Believe it was performed,
not having heard anything to contrary. Reported that Mr. and Mrs. G.
were present. Remember he was there last season, when same Opera was
played. Came up then, I think, from Dollis Hill. "All roads lead to
Romeo," the G.O.M. is reported to have said to FLORAL HALL, the Covent
Gardenia Box Office Manager and enthusiastic devotee of the G.O.M., or
"Grand Opera Man."

_Friday._--_La Favorite_ in French. Evidently neither particular nor
universal Favourite, as so many _habitués_, conspicuous when here by
their noble presence, are now still more conspicuous by their noble
absence. Mlle. RICHARD, her first visit to Royal Franco-Italian Opera
at Covent Garden, is the Favourite to-night, and the Favourite wins.
Opportunity for Mlle. BAUERMEISTER, who has one of the prettiest airs
in the Opera to start with, but then "is heard no more," having only
to exhibit, in sympathetic dramatic action, her deep distress at the
sufferings of the unhappy Favourite, the victim of _Alfonse_, King of
Castille. _King Alfonse_ gives a garden-party, with "gipsy revellers"
of the period, led by small and early PALLADINO. Refreshments are
probably served in an adjoining apartment, but _King Alfonse_, being,
perhaps, a trifle dry, occupies his time in the chair of state by
trifling with a lozenge. Great difficulty among audience as to whether
_Fernand_ is MONTARIOL or YBOS. Having seen MONTARIOL as _David_ in
the _Meistersingers_, I do not recognise him as Fernand; but having
seen YBOS as _Raoul_, in the _Huguenots_, FERNAND'S legs seem familiar
to me. If the voice is the voice of MONTARIOL, the legs are the legs
of YBOS. DRURIOLANUS IBOSS says it is _not_ YBOS but MONTARIOL; while
a distinguished Operatic Committeeman tells a despairing critic
that it _is_ YBOS, and not MONTARIOL. Anyhow, Mons.
YBOS-AUX-JAMBES-MONTARIOLIENNES is a good, though not great,
_Fernand_. The chorus whether as Monks of one of the great Theatrical
Orders, not-admitted-after-seven, or as members of the Castilian
Aristocracy, are admirable. Signor GASPAR--a name that suggests a
singer rather out of condition, and, like _Hamlet_, "scant of breath"
(he should be appropriately attired in "pants")--keeps his eye on
Signor BEVIGNANI, and Signor BEVIGNANI pulls him through. _Mem._ What
an education in modern languages it must require to be a chorister of
the R. I. O. C. G.! Italian, French, English, of course; and perhaps
one night they'll come out with something of WAGNER'S in the original
German. Everybody looking forward to the revival of _Le Prophète_ on
Monday next.

_Saturday._--_Non adsum_, because 'ad sum-where else to go. Covent
Garden, however, not closed in consequence. Hear that JEAN is to get
£600 per week in America. Good interest this for one tenner.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: AS WORN.

"DEAR UNCLE BEN--YOU'RE ALWAYS SO KIND!--_WOULD_ YOU SIT ON MY BONNET
A LITTLE. I'VE TAKEN OUT THE PINS."]

       *       *       *       *       *

ONE TOO MANY FOR HIM.

SIGNOR SMITHINI _loquitur_:--

   _Houp-là!_ Oh, it's all very fine
    That there whip to keep twirling and cracking,
  But with such a trio as mine
    There's no very great fun in "bare-backing."
  Two of them, I'm sure, were enough
    To keep--in _this_ Circus--in tether.
  A third you must thrust in!--what stuff!
    How _am_ I to keep 'em together?
  "Land Purchase" I had well in hand,
    And "Tithes" made a pretty fair second;
  But t'other? I can't understand
    How JOKIM could so have misreckoned.
  Of all awkward 'osses to hold
    The worst is his pet, "Compensation,"
  And if in the tan I ain't rolled,
    'Twill be thanks to my fine equitation!
  _Must_ get him along? Oh, of course!
    It will not do to fail, now we've started.
  But how? I'm a chap of resource,
    And I fancy I'm not chicken-hearted,
  Yet some lookers-on shouts out "Go!"
    Whilst others ejaculate "Drop him!"
  And, SOLLY, I'm hanged if I know
    How safely to drive him _or_ stop him.
  I may get him round,--'twill take time,--
    To drop him would now raise derision;
  I'm tired, and not quite in my prime,
    And of failure have somehow a vision.
  Of course, I will still do my best;
    I am always devoted to "Duty,"
  But oh! I should so like a rest.
    _Houp-là_ then! Oh, come up, you beauty!!

       *       *       *       *       *

IMPORTANT.--The Two Pins Club are going to have a race. Of course it
will be "from point to point."

       *       *       *       *       *

LE 'OCKEY STICK-BALLE FIGHT.

_Contributed by Our Own "Sportings-Life" Man._

  MON CHER MONSIEUR PUNCH,

I KNOW what interest profound and gracious you have always manifested
towards the glorious efforts of the heroic youth of our regenerated
athletic France, for have I not read your notices amiable and
scientific of _les_ "doings" of our onze at the _jeu de Cricquette_,
and still later of the murderous combat of the veritable
"struggle-for-lifers" in _le scrimmage_ of your terrible contest of
"Kicke-balle"? But now the valiant youth of our public seminaries have
advanced still one more step, and the afternoon of last Tuesday saw,
in the leafy arcades of our Bois, a true "stick-balle" fight--in one
word, a _parti_ of "Le 'Ockey," played with _vrais bâtons_, clubs long
and terrible, with cruel hooked finish, to the eye of the beholder,
and the dangerous white ball, hard as iron, heavy as lead, between a
'ome team and a "side" of strangers, that would have done credit to an
"Oxfor-Cambridge" battle or a fight royal, in which _Les Roverres de
Peckham_ were themselves engaged.

The costume of the _'ome team_, of which I was the General,
consisting, as it did, of "knickerbockerres" of pink velvet, jerseys
of green and yellow satin in stripes, padded in front and behind, as
a protection from _les coups de les "stickes,"_ with large feather
pillows, and 'igh jack-boots, worn with the same motive, completed,
together with a massive iron and wire mask, surmounted with a funereal
plume, used to safeguard the head and neck, a costume at once
striking and useful. The strangers were, perhaps, not quite so happily
arranged, their legs being encased in chain-armour, and their bodies
protected by large wicker clothes-washing-baskets; but, though this
precautionary costume hampered in some respect the play of their arms,
and impeded their swiftness in making "le rush," still, the hardest
blow of the death-dealing "stickes" fell on them without pain, and
they could meet the approach of the terrible iron-lead ball without
the apprehensive tremblings of terror.

The contest, though fierce, was not of long duration, for, after the
ninth goal, the iron-lead ball was driven with such furious _élan_ by
the victorious side that it dashed into the middle of the spectators,
and was swallowed, in the excitement, by the startled horse of an
omnibus. Thereupon the Umpire, being appealed to, decided the contest
terminated with victory, by three goals to nothing, to the 'ome team,
and amidst the prolonged "hurrahs" of the assembled thousands, who
represented all the _élite_ of the veritable 'igh and Sporting life
of the best Parisian Society, the first day's _stick-balle_ fight that
has now introduced "Le 'Ockey" into the arena of our rising National
Athletics, came to a brilliant and inspiriting end. I beg you, _Mon
cher Monsieur Punch_, be assured of my highest considerations, as I
subscribe myself your very humble _serviteur_,

  THE FIRST CHAMPION OF LES SPORTS.

       *       *       *       *       *

DEFINITIONS.

_Mater._--One who finds _mates_ for her daughters.

_Check Mate._--A husband with money.

       *       *       *       *       *

MRS. R. says:--"My nephew, who has just returned from a long voyage,
tells me that in the Red Sea it is so hot that the gentlemen sleep on
deck in their bananas."

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: ONE TOO MANY FOR HIM.

SIGNOR W. H. SMITHINI (_sotto voce_). "WISH I COULD HAVE KEPT 'EM ALL
THREE ABREAST, JUST FOR THE LOOK OF THE THING!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: HINTS FOR THE PARK.

DON'T TRY TO TURN YOUR TANDEM AT THE TROT, PARTICULARLY IF YOUR LEADER
IS OF A SOMEWHAT WILFUL DISPOSITION.]

       *       *       *       *       *

AFTER "THE MAY."

_A Cambridge Song of June._

  OUT and alas! The "May" is o'er;
  The polish of the ball-room floor
  Is streaked and marred by heedless feet,
  The pretty convoys in the street
  Stir no more envy, nor make proud
  The escort of the dainty crowd.
  No more the archway dark and grim,
  No more the tortuous staircase dim
  Wake to a glow of living light,
  When JONES'S sisters, like a flight
  Of tuneful birds in plumage gay
  Come into College, in the May.

  The little girl in grey is gone,
  Who like a silvery marsh-flower shone
  What time the long and strenuous train
  Of eights round Grassy pulled amain.
  Gone is the musical low voice
  That made the general heart rejoice,
  Mazing prim scholars with her wit,
  Or chattering simply, not a bit
  Above the sporting schoolboy's range.
  At that grave dinner, for a change,
  With just as flattering a charm,
  She took the formal Tutor's arm,
  With sparkling eyes, that scattered light
  On the dark Don's self-centred night.

  Bare are the windows, flowering then,
  The cynosure of lingering men,
  Whence over the darkling court would float
  The chorus of the College boat;
  Not shouted with the tuneless zeal
  Which tells how Undergraduates feel;
  But by such sweet girl-voices given
  As might the strictest "gates" have riven,
  Drawn iron tears down Tutors' cheek,
  And made Deans grant what loafers seek.

  And listening oarsmen softly swore
  To pull as men ne'er pulled before,
  And, let the next boat do its worst,
  To make to-morrow's bump, or burst.

  Out, and alas! May follows May,
  And other little girls in grey,
  With hair as bright and eyes as blue,
  Will hold the torch, pass'd on by you,
  And none the bygone years recall;
  For even this May's College pride
  Will be as dead as flowers that died
  At some forgotten festival.

       *       *       *       *       *

RATHER SHIFTY.--"The Members of the Metropolitan Police Force,"
the Memorial stated, as quoted in the _Times_ of June 13, urged
the Government to concede, among other demands, this, which sounds
peculiar:--

    "Duty to consist of eight hours (in one shift) out of _every_
    twenty-four."

The words in brackets are a puzzle. Is "shift" a misprint for "shirt"?
Is a Policeman now compelled to wear more than one of these in every
twenty-four hours? Is it flannel or linen? We confess that we do not
understand this, which we may fairly designate as "The Washerwoman's
Clause."

       *       *       *       *       *

PEREGRINUS JOCOSUS writes thus:--"Sir,--I was visiting Tintern Abbey.
Admission is by a gateway, close to which is an instruction to ring
the bell. How much simpler and pleasanter if the proprietor had
written up, 'Tinternabbeylate!'--Yours, much pleased, P. J."

       *       *       *       *       *

ON ARMY EXAMS.--As long as Examinations are what they are, cramming
is a necessity. Therefore, _Mr. Punch_ has only one retort to present
objections to cramming, and that is--"Stuff!"

       *       *       *       *       *

RECKING THE REDE LECTURE.

    "His paramount aim was to make the world better by the
    humanising influences of literature."--_Professor Jebb on
    Erasmus._

  FRIEND of COLET and of MORE,
    Genial wit and learned scholar,
  Never pedant, prig, or bore.
    Dulness and the Mighty Dollar
  Rule too much our world of books;
    Slang, sensation, crass stupidity;
  Talk of "oof" and prate of "spooks,"
    Sciolism, sheer aridity;
  Smartness, which is folly decked
    In true humour's cast-off raiment,
  Clap-trap which has never recked
    Aught save chance of praise and payment;
  These our literature infest,
    No ERASMUS now arising,
  Style to purge and taste to test
    In the way of "humanising."
  Could you but come back to us,
    How you'd flay sensation-mongers,
  Gird at gush, and flout at fuss,
    Chasten morbid thirsts and hungers:
  Puncture philosophic sham,
    "Blugginess," the coarse erotic;
  Show up callow Cockney "cram,"
    Logic shallow, thought chaotic;
  Lash our later Euphuism,
    And the pseudo-Ciceronian;
  Rottenness of "Realism,"
    Battening in its bogs Serbonian.
  Thanks, O philosophic JEBB!
    In this age of advertising,
  Literature, at a low ebb,
    Needs a little "humanising."

       *       *       *       *       *

"ON, STANLEY!"--The officer whom the explorer did not take with him
was his left TENNANT.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: "'SHADOWING' MEMBERS OF PARLIAMENT."]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: THE MODERN CORNELIA.

[CORNELIA, daughter of SCIPIO AFRICANUS, and wife of SEMPRONIUS
GRACCHUS, when a lady displayed her jewels to her, pointed to her two
sons, exclaiming, "These are _my_ jewels!"]
]

"THESE ARE MY JEWELS."

  TIMOUR-MAMMON'S triumph's full
    In this grace-abandoned creature.
  Look at her! A tawdry trull,
    Blear of eye and blurred of feature
  From the cult of her god--Drink!
  HEROD'S cruel self might shrink
  From a--Mother, calculating
  On her children's loss, awaiting
  With impatience their last breath,
  And the devilish gains of Death.

  Such as she, her cronies cry,
  Are "In luck when children die!"
   Luck! The luck of willing loss.
  Children dead bring in the dross.
      Little SARAH'S pale and sickly;
      Death is near, but comes not quickly,
      Art may hasten his slow tread.
      Blows, exposure, hunger, pain,
      Are auxiliaries of gain,
    Gain that comes "when SARAH's dead,"
  When to death her "friends" have done her.
  "We have got four pounds upon her,"
  Babbles little SARAH'S brother,
  Echoing the modern Mother.
  WEMYSS the wise advises "thrift,"
  As the only thing to lift
    Labour from the Sweater's slough.
  Laws, he swears, are wholly vain;
  Thought may scheme, and Love may strain
    Fruitlessly to raise the brow
  Of the poor above the slime
  Of starvation, suffering, crime.
  Thrift's the thing! Well, here is thrift!
  Children,--they are fortune's gift.
  Motherhood to rear them strives?
  Not so; it _insures their lives_!
  Burial Insurance comes
  As a boon unto the slums.
  The insurance love may fix
  At five pounds, or even six;
  A child's funeral costs a pound,
  And the balance means--drinks round!

  Here's the luck of loss, a luck
  Care may hasten. Blows are struck,
  Raiment stinted, food denied,
  Hunger and exposure tried;
  Infants overlain--by chance!
  Is it not a Moloch dance?
  Modern Motherhood, plus Drink,
  Beats old MOAB, will not shrink
  From child-sacrifice to win,
  Not a false god's smile, but Gin!
    Children are possessions, truly,
    To be sold, and paid for, duly,
    Pledged like other property,
    Bringing interest--when they die.

  Modern CORNELIA! That is she,
  With a semi-drunken glee
  Aping, all unconsciously,
  The proud Roman mother's vaunt.
  "See _my_ jewels! What I want--
  Dress, and drink, and selfish ease,
  I can win at will--through these."
  What was it little BOBBY said?
  "We'll get four pounds when SARAH's dead!"

  Golden-tongued PETERBOROUGH, flay
    The harpies with your burning breath;
  And you, brave WAUGH, assist to stay
    This plague of fiends who thrive on death.
  Cut short the course of callous crime
  Of this CORNELIA of our time!

       *       *       *       *       *

VOCES POPULI.

AT THE HORSE SHOW.

TIME--_About 3.30. Leaping Competition about to begin. The Competitors
are ranged in a line at the upper end of the Hall, while the
attendants place the hedges in position. Amongst the Spectators in the
Area are--a Saturnine Stableman from the country; a Cockney Groom; a
Morbid Man; a Man who is apparently under the impression that he is
the only person gifted with sight; a Critic who is extremely severe
upon other people's seats; a Judge of Horseflesh; and Two Women who
can't see as well as they could wish._

_The Descriptive Man_. They've got both the fences up now, d'ye see?
There's the judges going to start the jumping; each rider's got a
ticket with his number on his back. See? The first man's horse don't
seem to care about jumping this afternoon--see how he's dancing about.
Now he's going at it--there, he's cleared it! Now he'll have to jump
the next one!

[_Keeps up a running fire of these instructive and valuable
observations throughout the proceedings._

[Illustration]

_The Judge of Horseflesh._ Rare good shoulders that one has.

_The Severe Critic (taking the remark to apply to the horse's rider)._
H'm, yes--rather--pity he sticks his elbows out quite so much, though.

[_His Friend regards him in silent astonishment._

_Another Competitor clears a fence, but exhibits a considerable amount
of daylight._

_The Saturnine Stableman (encouragingly)._ You'll 'ev to set back a
bit next journey, Guv'nor!

_The Cockney Groom._ 'Orses 'ud jump better if the fences was a bit
'igher.

_The S. S._ They'll be plenty 'oigh enough fur some on 'em.

_The Severe Critic._ Ugly seat that fellow has--all anyhow when the
horse jumps.

_Judge of Horseflesh._ Has he? I didn't notice--I was looking at the
horse. [_Severe Critic feels snubbed._

_The S. S. (soothingly, as the Competitor with the loose seat comes
round again)._ That's not good, Guv'nor!

_The Cockney Groom._ 'Ere's a little bit o' fashion coming down
next--why, there's quite a boy on his back.

_The S. S._ 'E won't be on 'im long if he don't look out. Cup an' ball
_I_ call it!

_The Morbid Man._ I suppose there's always a accident o' some sort
before they've finished.

_First Woman._ Oh, don't, for goodness sake, talk like that--I'm sure
_I_ don't want to see nothing 'appen.

_Second Woman._ Well, you may make your mind easy--for you won't see
nothing here; you _would_ have it this was the best place to come to!

_First Woman._ I only said there was no sense in paying extra for the
balcony, when you can go in the area for nothing.

_Second Woman (snorting)._ Area, indeed! It might be a good deal
airier than what it is, I'm sure--I shall melt if I stay here much
longer.

_The Morbid Man._ There's one thing about being so close to the jump
as this--if the 'orse jumps sideways--as 'osses will do every now and
then--he'll be right in among us before we know where we are, and then
there'll be a pretty how-de-do!

_Second Woman (to her Friend)._ Oh, come away, do--it's bad enough to
see nothing, let alone having a great 'orse coming down atop of us,
and me coming out in my best bonnet, too--come away!

[_They leave._

_The Descriptive Man._ Now they're going to make 'em do some
in-and-out jumping, see? they're putting the fences close
together--that'll puzzle some of them--ah, he's over both of 'em; very
clean that one jumps! Over again! He's got to do it all twice, you
see.

_The Judge of Horseflesh._ Temperate horse, that chestnut.

_The Severe Critic._ Is he, though?--but I suppose they _have_ to be
here, eh? Not allowed champagne or whiskey or anything before they go
in--like they are on a racecourse?

_The J. of H._ No, they insist on every horse taking the pledge before
they'll enter him.

_The Descriptive Man._ Each of 'em's had a turn at the in-and-out jump
now. What's coming next? Oh, the five-barred gate--they're going over
that now, and the stone wall--see them putting the bricks on top?
That's to _raise_ it.

_The Morbid Man._ None of 'em been off yet; but (_hopefully_) there'll
be a nasty fall or two over this business--there's been many a neck
broke over a lower gate than that.

_A Competitor clears the gate easily, holding the reins casually in
his right hand._

_The J. of H._ That man can ride.

_The Severe Critic._ Pretty well--not what I call _business_,
though--going over a gate with one hand, like that.

_The J. of H._ Didn't know you were such an authority.

_The S. C. (modestly)._ Oh, I can tell when a fellow has a good seat.
I used to ride a good deal at one time. Don't get the chance much
now--worse luck!

_The J. of H._ Well, I can give you a chance, as it happens. (Severe
Critic _accepts with enthusiasm, and the inward reflection that the
chance is much less likely to come off than he is himself_.) You wait
till the show is over, and they let the horses in for exercise. I know
a man who's got a cob here--regular little devil to go--bucks a bit at
times--but you won't mind that. I'll take you round to the stall, and
get my friend to let you try him on the tan. How will that do you, eh?

_The Severe Critic (almost speechless with gratitude)._ Oh--er--it
would do me right enough--capital! That is--it would, if I hadn't an
appointment, and had my riding things on, and wasn't feeling rather
out of sorts, and hadn't promised to go home and take my wife in the
Park, and it's her birthday, too, and, then, I've long made it a rule
never to mount a strange horse, and--er--so you understand how it is,
don't you?

_The J. of H._ Quite, my dear fellow. (_As, for that matter, he has
done from the first._)

_The Cockney Groom (alluding to a man who is riding at the gate)._
'Ere's a rough 'un this bloke's on! (_Horse rises at gate; his rider
shouts, "Hoo, over!" and the gate falls amidst general derision._)
Over? Ah, I should just think it was over!

_The Saturnine Stableman (as horseman passes)._ Yer needn't ha'
"Hoo"'d for that much!

[_The Small Boy, precariously perched on an immense animal, follows;
his horse, becoming unmanageable, declines the gate, and leaps the
hurdle at the side._

_The S. S._ Ah, you're a _artful_ lad, you are--thought you'd take it
where it was easiest, eh?--you'll 'ev to goo back and try agen, you
will.

_Chorus of Sympathetic Bystanders._ Take him at it again, boy; you're
all right!... Hold him in tighter, my lad.... Let out your reins a
bit! Lor, they didn't ought to let a boy like that ride.... He ain't
no more 'old on that big 'orse than if he was a fly on him!... Keep
his 'ed straighter next time.... Enough to try a boy's nerve! &c., &c.

[_The Boy takes the horse back, and eventually clears the gate amidst
immense and well-deserved applause._

_The Morbid Man (disappointed)._ Well, I fully expected to see 'im
took off on a shutter.

_The Descriptive Man._ It's the water-jump next--see; that's it in the
middle; there's the water, underneath the hedge; they'll have to clear
the 'ole of that--or else fall in and get a wetting. They've taken all
the horses round to the other entrance--they'll come in from that side
directly.

[_One of the Judges holds up his stick as a signal; wild shouts of
"Hoy-hoy! Whorr-oosh!" from within, as a Competitor dashes out and
clears hedge and ditch by a foot or two. Deafening applause. A second
horseman rides at it, and lands--if the word is allowable--neatly in
the water. Roars of laughter as he scrambles out._

_The Morbid Man._ Call that a brook! It ain't a couple of inches
deep--it's more mud than water! No fear (_he means, "no hope"_) of any
on 'em getting a ducking over that!

[_And so it turns out; the horses take the jump with more or less
success, but without a single saddle being vacated. The Judges award
a red and blue rosette to the riders of the best and second horses
respectively, and the proceedings terminate for the afternoon amidst
demonstrations of hearty satisfaction from all but_ The Morbid Man,
_who had expected there would have been "more to see._"

       *       *       *       *       *

--> 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:

Sundry missing or damaged punctuation has been repaired.

Page 289: The caron ^ denotes a following superscript:
"formula: x ([Greek: pi] + y^{n^th}) = y + x - [Greek: pi]/x".

Page 291: 'Matineé' corrected to 'Matinée':
"Miss Blank will make her first appearance in Juliet at a Matinée".

       *       *       *       *       *





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