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Title: Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 98, May 31, 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, May 31, 1890" ***

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI

VOLUME 98, MAY 31ST 1890

edited by Sir Francis Burnand



VOCES POPULI.

IN THE MALL ON DRAWING-ROOM DAY.

    _The line of carriages bound for Buckingham Palace is moving
    by slow stages down the Drive. A curious but not uncritical
    crowd, consisting largely of females, peer into the carriages
    as they pass, and derive an occult pleasure from a glimpse of
    a satin train and a bouquet. Other spectators circulate behind
    them, roving from carriage to carriage, straining and staring
    in at the occupants with the childlike interest of South Sea
    Islanders. The coachmen and footmen gaze impassively before
    them, ignoring the crowd to the best of their ability. The
    ladies in the carriages bear the ordeal of popular inspection
    with either haughty resignation, elaborate unconsciousness, or
    amused tolerance, and it is difficult to say which demeanour
    provokes the greatest resentment in the democratic breast._

_Chorus of Female Spectators._ We shall see better here than what we
did last Droring-Room. Law, 'ow it _did_ come down, too, pouring the
'ole day. I was that sorry for the poor 'orses!... Oh, that one
_was_ nice, MARIRE! Did you see 'er train?--all flame-coloured
satting--_lovely_! Ain't them flowers beautiful? Oh, LIZA, _'ere's_ a
pore skinny-lookin' thing coming next--look at 'er pore dear arms, all
bare! But dressed 'andsome enough.... That's a Gineral in there, see?
He's 'olding his cocked 'at on his knee to save the feathers--him and
her have been 'aving words, apparently ... Oh, I _do_ like this one.
I s'pose that's her Mother with her--well, yes, o' course it _may_ be
her Aunt?

_A Sardonic Loafer._ 'Ullo, 'ere's a 'aughty one! layin' back and
puttin' up 'er glorses! Know us agen, Mum, won't you? You may well
look--you ain't seen so much in yer ole life as what you're seein'
to-day, _I_'ll lay! Ah, you ought to feel honoured, too, all of us
comin' out to look at yer. Drored 'er blind down, this one 'as, yer
see--knew she wasn't wuth looking at!

[_A carriage passes; the footman on the box is adorned by an enormous
nosegay, over which he can just see._

_First Comic Cockney_ Ow, I s'y--you _'ave_ come out in bloom,
JOHNNY!

_Second C. C._ Ah, they've bin forcin' _'im_ under glorse, they'ave!
'Is Missis 'll never find 'im under all them flowers. Ow, 'e smoiled
at me through the brornches!

[_Another carriage passes, the coachman and footmen of which are
undecorated._

_First C. C._ Shime!--they might ha' stood yer a penny bunch o'
voilets between yer, that they might!

_The Sardonic L._ 'Ere 's a swell turn-out and no mistake--with a
couple o' bloomin' beadles standin' be'ind! There's a full-fed 'un
inside of it too,--look at the dimonds all over 'er bloomin' old
nut. _My_ eye! (_The elderly dowager inside produces a cut-glass
scent-bottle of goodly size._) Ah, she's got a drop o' the right sort
in there--see her sniffin at it--it won't take 'er long to mop up that
little lot!

_Jeames (behind the carriage, to_ CHAWLES). Our old geeser's
perdoocin' the custimary amount o' sensation, eh, CHAWLEY?

_Chawles (under notice)._ Well, thank 'Eving, I shan't have to share
the responsibility of her _much_ longer!

_'Arriet (to_ ARRY). I wonder they don't get tired o' being stared at
like they are.

_'Arry._ Bless your 'art--_they_ don't mind--they _like_ it. They'll
go 'ome and s'y (_in falsetto_) "Ow, Pa, all the bloomin' crowd kep'
on a lookin' at us through the winder--it _was_ proime!"

_'Arriet (giggling admiringly)._ 'Ow do _you_ know the w'y they tork?

_'Arry (superior)._ Why, they don't tork partickler different from
what you and me tork--do they?

_First Mechanic._ See all them old blokes in red with the rum 'ats,
BILL? They're Beefeaters goin' to the Pallis, they are.

_Second M._ What do they do when they git there?

_First M._ Do? oh, mind the bloomin' stair-case, and chuck out them as
don't beyave themselves.

_A Restless Lady (to her husband)._ HARRY, I don't like this place
at all. I'm sure we could see better somewhere else. Do let's try and
squeeze in somewhere lower down ... No, this is worse--that _horrid_
tobacco! Suppose we cross over to the Palace?    [_They do so._

_A Policeman._ Too late to cross now, Sir--go back please.

[_They go back and take up a position in front of the crowd on the
curbstone._

_The R. L._ There, we shall see beautifully here, HARRY.

_A Crusty Matron (talking at the R. L. and her husband.)_ Well, I'm
sure, some persons have got a cheek, coming in at the last minnit
and standing in front of those that have stood here hours--that's
ladylike, I _don't_ think! Nor yet, I didn't come here to have my eye
poked out by other parties' pairosols.

[_Continues in this strain until the R. L. can stand it no longer, and
urges her husband to depart._

_Chorus of Policemen._ Pass along there, please, one way _or_ the
other--keep moving there, Sir.

_The R. L._ But where are we to _go_--we must stand _somewhere_?

_A Policeman._ Can't stand anywhere 'ere, Mum.

[_The unhappy couple are passed on from point to point, until they
are finally hemmed in at a spot from which it is impossible to see
anything whatever._

_Harry._ If you had only been content to stay where you were at first,
we should have been all right!

_The R. L._ Nonsense, it is all your fault, you _are_ the most
hopeless person to go anywhere with. Why didn't you tell one of those
policemen _who we were_?

_Harry._ Why? Well, because I didn't see one who looked as if it would
interest him, if you want to know.

THE ROYAL CARRIAGES ARE APPROACHING.

_Chorus of Loyal Ladies of Various Ages._ There--they're clearing
the way--the Prince and Princess won't be long now. Here's the Life
Guards' Band--don't they look byootiful in those dresses? Won't that
poor drummer's arms ache to-morrow? This is the escort coming now....
'Ere come the Royalties. Don't push so, POLLY, you can see without
that!... There, that was the Prince in the first one--did yer see him,
POLLY? Oh, yes, leastwise I see the end of a cocked 'at, which I
took to be 'im. Yes, _that_ was 'im right enough.... There goes the
Princess--_wasn't_ she looking nice? I couldn't exactly make out which
was her and which was the two young Princesses, they went by all in
a flash like, but they _did_ look nice!... 'Ere's another Royalty in
this kerridge--'oo will she be, I wonder? Oh, I expect it would be the
old Duchess of---- No, I don't think it was _'er_,--she wasn't
looking pleasant enough,--and she's dead, too.... Now they have got
inside--'ark at them playing bits of "_God Save the Queen_." Well, I'm
glad I've seen it.

_A Son (to cheery old Lady)._ 'Ow are you gettin' on, Mother, eh?

_Ch. O. L._ First-rate, thankee, JOHN, my boy.

_Son._ You ain't tired standing about so long?

_Ch. O. L._ Lor' bless you, no. Don't you worry about _me_.

_Son._ Could you see 'em from where you was?

_Ch. O. L._ I could see all the coachmen's 'ats beautiful. We'll wait
and see 'em all come out, JOHN, won't we? They won't be more than an
hour and a half in there, I dessay.

_A Person with a Florid Vocabulary._ Well, if I'd ha' known all I
was goin' to see was a set o' blanky nobs shut up in their blank-dash
kerridges, blank my blanky eyes if I'd ha' stirred a blanky foot,
s'elp me Dash, I wouldn't!

_A Vendor (persuasively)._ The kerrect lengwidge of hevery flower that
blows--one penny!

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: EXCHANGE NO ROBBERY.]

       *       *       *       *       *

"ALLOWED TO STARVE."--_Mr. Punch_ begs to acknowledge contribution
from "PAISLEY" to "The Light Brigade Fund," which has been forwarded
to the Editor of the _St. James's Gazette_, who has charge of this
Fund.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: THE AUTOCRAT.]

    "Here is my last request and legacy! After we are executed,
    and while the impression of this epilogue of all these horrors
    is still fresh in the minds of the people, do your utmost to
    make this new example of the unparalleled cruelty of Russian
    despotism known to the whole world.... This is a great task
    well worth accomplishing; and if you succeed, the losses we
    suffered in that terrible butchery will be redeemed."--_From
    the last letter, written just before his execution, of
    Nicholas Zotoff, one of the victims of the Yakoutsk massacre._

  LET it be known! Poor soul, of unshaken trust,
    So done to death in the gloom of the Kara waste,
  'Midst a myriad nameless victims of fear and lust,
    Your cry comes, borne on the chainless winds that haste
  In shuddering flight away from that frozen hell,
    That pestilent prison for all things free and fair,
  Where the raven's croak is the patriot's only knell
                  On the tainted air.

  Let it be known! Aye! the cruel secret crawls,
    Despite the vigilant watch of tyranny's hounds,
  From the scaffold's screen, from the kamera's sombre walls;
    Away, as you wished, o'er enfranchised lands it sounds,
  And shocks the gentle, and stirs the blood of the strong;
    But he, the Autocrat, sits, with a shaken mind,
  And a palsied heart; to the tale of horror and wrong
                  He's deaf and blind!

  Pale ladies lashed, at the word of a drunken brute,
    To the death they welcome e'en from the torturing "plet!"
  And his eyes are blind, and his trembling lips are mute,
    Whilst the eyes of a world of shuddering men are wet.
  Chained gangs of patriot captives stabbed or shot
    At the scared caprice of a bully, craven-souled!
  And the Autocrat, whilst all hearts with shame wax hot,
                   Sits still and cold!

  Ust-Kara's far, and the hasty scaffold reared
    In the grey of the early morning bore--a fool,
  Who had not learned that Law must be blindly feared,
    Though sent to the stern Siberian wastes to school.
  The unconvicted exile who dares to lift
    A voice, a hand, is a proven "Terrorist."
  And if, in Yakoutsk, he is given a shortish shrift,
                  Need the White TZAR list?

  The White TZAR sits on his gorgeous seat, alone;
    Blindfold and deaf, in his realm the veriest slave,
  Though the seat he fills is the rack men call a Throne,
    And the TZAR is a stalwart Titan, strong and brave.
  Strong--yet helpless as yon slain woman's hand;
    Brave--but shaken through with a haunting Fear.
  Of all his myrmidons' devilries done in the land
                  The last to hear!

  Let it be known! Poor ZOTOFF'S legacy wakes
    A living echo in every ear humane.
  E'en the Autocrat in his lonely splendour quakes
    At the vague vast sounds of menace no bonds restrain.
  But there, in the heart of horrors, he sits and sighs,
    Blindfold Injustice bound to a joyless throne;
  Whilst far the voice of his fallen victim flies--
                  "_Let it be known!_"

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: A DISTINCTION AND A DIFFERENCE.

"Now what are the peculiar Distinctions of the Quakers? For instance,
how do they Speak differently From You and Me?"

"Please, Sir, they don't Swear!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

MR. PUNCH'S DICTIONARY OF PHRASES.

SOCIAL.

"_Just want five minutes' chat with you_;" _i.e._, "He'll give me a
cigar and something to drink, and as I've nothing to do for half an
hour, this will occupy me pleasantly."

"_Yes; I quite understand_;" _i.e._, "I don't know what he is talking
about, but he's a bore."

"_Wouldn't tell it to anyone but you_;" _i.e._, "This will ensure its
circulation."

PLATFORMULARS.

"_As the Laureate well puts it, in lines that will live for ever_;"
_i.e._, "I'm perfectly dead certain I've forgotten the third line of
the verse."

"_The clock warns me that I am trespassing too long on your
patience_;" _i.e._, "Haven't said half of what I meant to say. Why the
dickens don't they say, 'Go on!'"

FRIENDLY COMMENTS ON CHARACTER AND ACCOMPLISHMENTS.

"_She is the most domesticated darling imaginable_;" _i.e._, "A dull,
sock-darning dowdy."

"_Quite a beauty-man, and nice--to those who like that sort of
thing_;" _i.e._, "An awfully handsome fellow, who won't worship me."

"_Grim rather at first, but grows upon one wonderfully_;" _i.e._, "He
is softening a little beneath my blandishments."

RAILROAD AMENITIES.

"_Would you like the window up_;" _i.e._, "Hope to goodness she won't,
for her patchouli is simply suffocating."

"_If you feel inclined for a snack, don't mind me_;" "The scent of
sherry and sandwiches in a close carriage is simply sickening."

PREPARING FOR PRIVATE THEATRICALS.

"_I defer to your superior knowledge of stage-effect_;" _i.e._,
"Stuck-up know-all! I could play his head off!"

"_Well, I fear it's a little out of my line; still if I can do
anything to help you, I shall be delighted_;" _i.e._, "What I've
longed for for years. Now I shall have a chance of showing what's in
me!"

"_Bravo, Buffins, dear boy! That little bit of business was really
first-rate_;" _i.e._, "If he plays like _that_ I shall shine, if only
by contrast."

       *       *       *       *       *

QUITE A LITTLE BANC(ROFT) HOLIDAY!

MRS. BANCROFT'S "Little Play" is very good work. It is called _The
Riverside_; it drew a big _Matinée_ house at the Haymarket last
Thursday, and drew big tears. The ladies did enjoy themselves! They
were in full cry all the time. Capitally acted. It is rumoured that
the gifted authoress, manageress, and actress (all in one), is going
to take a company up the river in a House-boat fitted as a Theatre. It
is to be called _The Thespis_, and will visit all the principal places
on the river during the Season, and ought to do uncommonly well. The
idea is novel. The Company will be called "The Bancroft Water-Babies."
_À propos_ of the Busy B.'s, we are authorised to contradict the
report that, in consequence of his great success as an arbitrator, Mr.
BANCROFT is to be made a Deputy-Assistant County Court Judge. This is
not so.

       *       *       *       *       *

THE FIRST ROZE OF SUMMER.--Our Chirruping Critic off the hearth went
to Madame MARIE ROZE'S Concert the other day--advertised as "Grand
Morning Concert"--well, it was a "Grand Morning" for the time of
year--but why was the Concert "Grand?"--and was delighted. The
Chirruper heartily welcomed Miss GRACE DAMIAN--more graceful than
ever--she sang grandly--of course everyone did on this "grand"
occasion--and he nearly split a pair of gloves applauding Mr. LEO
STERN in his Grand Violoncello act, for which he was recalled three
times, till he was quite tired of bowing and "boo'ing." But the
Chirruper would not have it otherwise, "Touch not a single bow," as
the song says. And then the flowers! five bouquets for Madame MARIE
ROZE. "The flowers that bloom in the spring, tra la!" as the late
firm of GILBERT AND SULLIVAN used to sing and play. _À propos_ of Mr.
GILBERT, his _protégée_, Miss NEILSON, whom he was the first to bring
out in Brantingham Hall, St. James's, S.W., gave a recitation which
made a decided hit; and then she sang a song--accomplished young lady
is Miss JULIA--which made another hit. The Chirruper wishes to record
that--to a quartette "specially arranged for the Meister Glee Singers",
called _Dinah Doe_, and excellently sung, no names were given of
either the Shakspearian Librettist, or the Composer, J. L. MOLLOY, who
wrote it for the GERMAN REEDS many years ago. It's as fresh as ever,
and at this grand concert came out grandly. The Steinway piano was of
course a grand.

       *       *       *       *       *

ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.

EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M.P.

_House of Commons, Monday, May 19._--OLD MORALITY in new and charming
mood to-night; turned over a fresh leaf in his copybook; entered upon
the chapter headed "Banter;" not only enjoyed himself, but was cause
of enjoyment in others. ESSLEMONT began it; doled out, as if it were
ounce of tea or yard and quarter of calico, ponderous joke about
having no Holiday at Whitsuntide, and adding three days to Recess at
end of Session.

"I will take a note of the Hon. Member's recommendation," said OLD
MORALITY.

Nobody laughs when I tell this; yet, remember, House roared whilst OLD
MORALITY, resuming seat, sat with pursed-up lips and furrowed brow,
fearful lest he should spoil situation by smiling. Must have told the
joke wrong; look up Parliamentary Reports. No, there it is, the
very words; also his retort to TIM HEALY; his turning the flank of
HARCOURT; his triumphant knocking over of TIM, when, after brief
pause, he came up again.

"Such badinage!" said CHARLES WILSON, "such persiflage!"

So it seemed at time. Everyone roared with delight.

"Quite in DIZZY'S style," said the admiring STANHOPE.

"Only better," added the ecstatic GEORGY HAMILTON.

Thought so too at the time; but when I come to write down the jokes,
the fun has gone, the flavour escaped, the bloom shed. Wonder what it
was we all laughed at?

[Illustration: "Such badinage! such persiflage!"]

"You do your best," said the Member for Sark, always ready with kindly
remark, "but you can't bring OLD MORALITY and all he is to us on
your written page. His voice, his looks, his way of getting up and
of sitting down, his throwing back his head and thrusting forward his
chin as he mouths his apophthegm, his nervous glance round the House,
his assumption of a stern official aspect, breaking presently into a
smile when the House laughs; his apologetic way of sitting on the
edge of the seat when he has snubbed HARCOURT; all his goodness,
his littleness, his honest intention, and his occasional lapses
into crooked paths; his 'Certainly, Sir,' when the thing is quite
otherwise, his blush when he discovers himself dealing with facts in
a Pickwickian sense, his constitutional modesty, and his spasmodic
aggressiveness, the look in his eye as of a wounded hare when COURTNEY
refuses to put the Closure he has moved,--all these are things, little
in themselves, momentary in their passage, which you, dear TOBY, can
no more transfer to your folios than you can illuminate them with the
glow of sunset, or perfume them with the scent of country lanes in
this sweet spring-time. OLD MORALITY belongs to us. He is a peculiar
growth of the House of Commons, unique, unprecedented, unapproachable,
never fully to be understanded of, or appreciated by, the people."

_Business done._--Battling round Budget Bill; sat all night, and far
into morning.

_Tuesday._--CADOGAN in good time at House of Lords to-day. DENMAN
got first place with Motion for Second Reading of his Bill extending
Municipal Franchise in Ireland. CADOGAN to move rejection of Measure
in name of Government.

"I must be firm," he said, as he turned up his trousers over his white
spats. "DENMAN a terrible fellow when he's roused."

[Illustration: Going down to the House.]

House pretty full when DENMAN appeared at table in position of Leader
of Opposition. An ordinary Member not connected with either present or
late Government, usually speaks from Bench on which he is accustomed
to sit. DENMAN preferred conveniences of table. Most interesting
speech, what could be heard of it. Good deal about Sir ROBERT PEEL;
occasional reference to PALMERSTON; some reminiscences of early
journey in railway-carriage in STEPHENSON'S time; a passing remark
as to the weather, and probable state of the crops on this day six
months. But, as CADOGAN subsequently remarked, nothing whatever about
the Bill. Lords in an awkward position. Had the scene been in the
Commons, and the elderly grey-haired gentleman at the table been
merely returned by a constituency, the case would have been different.
Might have been howled down in a few moments. But with a Peer of
the Realm, a hereditary legislator, a personage whose vote might in
certain conceivable circumstances suffice to throw out a Bill which
had received sanction of House of Commons, it is, as GRANVILLE says,
_une autre paire de manches_. If anyone whispered that DENMAN had a
tile off, whither would the admission lead us? A Peer is a man--or
rather, a Being--of a special, superlative order. Admitted within
that order, he becomes, _ipso facto_, a person of extraordinary
intelligence, keen intellect, ripe judgment, irreproachable character.

A little awkward that DENMAN should seem to be rambling. If he were a
Commoner, might even be called incoherent. Being a Peer, some forty or
fifty other Peers sat through twenty minutes with polite assumption
of listening. But there is a substratum of human nature even in
the Peerage. When DENMAN, _à propos_ of the Municipal Franchise in
Ireland, began to talk about COLUMBUS'S egg, there was a murmur of
impatience; when he slid into the Panama Canal the murmur grew to a
shout. Awhile, amid stormy cries for the Division, the House of Lords
resembled the House of Commons.

After brief struggle with unwonted elements, DENMAN resumed seat; Bill
thrown out, and with regained equanimity noble Lords turned to next
business. To their horror, DENMAN up again at table; forgotten to
mention a particular circumstance connected with COLUMBUS'S egg.
"Perhaps their Lordships----" But this too much. At whatever risk to
Peerage as a body, DENMAN must be shouted down. So they roared at him
with cries of "Order!" he standing regarding them with looks of pained
surprise. Was it possible they declined to hear more about COLUMBUS'S
egg? "Order! Order!" they roared, BATH leading the onslaught.

"It is you, my Lords, who are disorderly," said DENMAN, and with head
erect, and tall figure carried with pathetic dignity, he strode back
to Cross Benches, and sat down in seat of PRINCE OF WALES.

_Business done._--Budget Bill in Commons.

_Thursday._--All the blood of his great predecessor in spoliation,
HENRY THE EIGHTH, just now swelled in the bosom of JAMES STUART
ALLANSON TUDOR PICTON. Prince ARTHUR responsible for the flood.
Question about meeting announced to be held in Mid-Tipperary next
Sunday. Prince ARTHUR has, it seems, prohibited it. JOHN MORLEY wants
to know why? There was, he says, public meeting held in same place
last month, addressed by English Members; that not proclaimed. What
was the difference between meeting addressed by Irish Members, and
another by English Members, that one should be taken and the other
left?

"The difference is," said Prince ARTHUR, speaking with embarrassed
air, as if the distinction was dragged out of him, "that the result
of the meeting addressed by Irish Members was to produce intimidation,
whilst the result of the other was, I should say, _nil_."

If JAMES STUART ALLANSON TUDOR PICTON had only lived in the times
of his great predecessor, and wielded his power, Prince ARTHUR would
forthwith have been conducted to Tower Hill, and shortened by a head.
Why he (JAMES, &c.) was at this meeting at Mid-Tipperary last month!
He, standing on a butter-tub, had addressed the men of Tipperary;
the echo of his eloquence still filled the dales, whilst the hills
reverberated with the cheers of the men of Tipperary. For this
insolent hireling of a Coercionist Government to speak in tones of
studied slight of such a demonstration was more than J. S. A. T. P.
could stand. If our two giants, JOHN O'CONNOR and HENRY PEASE had
not joined hands and held him back, gore would have sprinkled the
precincts of the Treasury Bench. As it was, the subject dropped, and
House proceeded to discuss Budget Bill.

_Business done._--A good lead.

[Illustration: Pease (with Honour).]

_Friday._--House adjourned for holidays. "When we come back," says OLD
MORALITY, "we must really begin work. Playtime up to now; left most
of the work over; must buckle to. We've been in some danger, and there
may be more ahead. Why are persons sometimes killed by leaning over
beer-vats? Because vats, when beer has been made, contain large
quantities of carbonic acid gas, produced by the vinous fermentation
of the beer; and when a man incautiously leans over a beer-vat and
inhales the carbonic acid, he is killed thereby. It is, of course,
not quite the same in respect of spirits. Still, when a Chancellor of
Exchequer has clapped on sixpence a gallon on whiskey, it is as well
for his colleagues to avoid looking a Scotch hogshead or an Irish
puncheon in the face. _Au plaisir, cher_ TOBY. Come along, JACKSON!"

The two Right Honourables go off together, JACKSON evidently turning
over in his mind OLD MORALITY'S observations on the beer-vat.

"A wonderful man," he says, "his mind stored with odd bits of
information, which he draws upon for enlightenment upon ordinary
events of daily life. Don't exactly see, though, how he rolled in that
beer-vat. Must think it over during the Recess."

Everyone glad to hail JACKSON "Right Honourable." A proud title,
as yet not spoiled by indiscriminate distribution. Suffices for
GLADSTONE, as it did for PEEL; suits JACKSON exactly.

_Business done._--Winding up for Whitsuntide. Adjourn for holidays
till Monday, June 2nd.

       *       *       *       *       *

THE OPERA-GOER'S DIARY.

_From the Note-book of Mr. Pips Senior._--_Monday, May 19._--To the
Royal Opera House, Covent Garden. First night of the Season. The
house infinite full, and the Prince of WALES and the Princess, and the
Princesses their daughters, there in a box, pretty to see. DRURIOLANUS
OPERATICUS ET COUNTICOUNCILLARIUS mightily pleased at what I hear is
the biggest subscription to this class of entertainment ever known.
Many fine faces here to-day. The sight of the ladies exceeding noble.
A new wench, Mlle. NUOVINA, to sing for the first time, taking the
part of _Marguérite_ in the Opera of _Faust_, which she did prettily
and quietly. Curious to see a _Marguérite_ with jet-black hair and a
white face; yet comely and with much grace.

Everyone extraordinarily content with Mons. JEAN DE RESZKÉ, the best
_Faust_ that did ever sing and play this part. But vexed to see one
M. ORME DARRALL act _Mephistopheles_ in the room of EDOUARD DE RESZKÉ,
who, poor man, is sick. The scenes and the chorus all very fine
indeed. All of us pretty merry at the droll mimicry of Mlle.
BAUERMEISTER as _Martha_, who makes this part go most rarely.

[Illustration: "Harmony in Black and White."]

Pleased to see Madame SCALCHI dressed as a boy for the part of
_Siebel_. The house mightily content, and wishing her to sing one song
twice over, which she would not. In which matter she did wisely, as
also the others.

Went out before the last Act began, to find it raining heavily, and,
good lack! not a _Commissionnaire_ to be met with for a quarter of an
hour. Whereat mightily troubled to get a coach, till one did fetch me
a four-wheeler, which I entered, in great disorder, after much strife
and contention. Cost me sixpence. To RULE'S, in Maiden Lane, being
mighty thirsty, where had supper on excellent lobster and fresh salad,
with eggs of the plover, and a draught of the best stout, which
did much content me. Comes young SILLIGREW, who makes merry about
"sticking to Rules for supper and no exception," or some such
nonsense, which I have forgot, though we laughed heartily at his
manner of saying it. Drank to the success of the Italian Opera and of
DRURIOLANUS. After paying the reckoning, took cab, and so home to bed.

_From Note-book of Mr. Pips Junior._--_Tuesday._--PIPS Senior doesn't
go to Opera to-night. PIPS Junior does. Think PIPS Senior, as an
Admiralty official, will be at the Court Ball with Madame PIPS. Glad,
therefore, to take his stall at the Opera. _Carmen_ always delightful.
Tuneful, melodious, and bright. Good Bizet-ness. Mlle. ZÉLIE DE LUSSAN
as _Carmen_ mighty difficult to beat, and she sings and plays the part
with all the diabolical waywardness of this impudent Spanish baggage,
as PIPS Senior would call her. Pity that MAGGIE McINTYRE is indisposed
to play _Michaela_; she used to do it so prettily and so innocently
that she shone out as just the very contrast intended by the author.
Instead of MAGGIE, Mlle. COLOMBATI sings the part to-night. She is
very graciously received, as is also Signor FERNANDO VALERO (from
several Opera Houses abroad) who makes his _début_ here as that
vacillating tenor, DON JOSÉ. Clever Mlle. BAUERMEISTER as frisky
_Frasquita_, and Mlle. LONGHI as _Mercedes_, both excellent Bohemian
Girls. To see them going nap was a treat! Which wins? One excellent
Irish-Italian, DAN DRADY, as the _Toréador_, first-rate. What a song
it is! _Encores_ refused all round, of course. In spite of State Ball,
House very nearly as full as on first night. Brilliant effect of some
ladies who are "going on," and who can't of course "go on anyhow," but
are obliged to appear in their diamonds.

Pretty to see little Mlle. PALLADINO dancing. Very short life and a
merry one has the _première danseuse_ in this Opera. Just a few steps,
and then she "steps it," and is not seen again. There is too little of
PALLADINO at any time, and in this case, as she only comes on for five
minutes at the commencement of Act II., and then "_bon soir!_" she may
be described as "Small and Early."

_Thursday._--_Rentrée_ of Mlle. ELLA RUSSELL as _Leila_ in BIZET'S _I
Pescatori di Perle_, another version of _The Diversions of Purley_,
a work now more or less forgotten. Signor VALERO better as _Nadir_
(isn't this the name of a well-known photographer?) than as _Don
José_. Not unlike the lamented GAYARRE. The more like he can become to
that tenor the better. M. DUFRICHE came from Madrid to play _Zurga_.
A long journey; almost sorry he gave himself the trouble, but there's
more than this for him to do. Lovely finish to First Act, but after
that the Opera is not a stirring one, the story being so idiotically
undramatic. ELLA fresher than ever.

_Friday._--_Lohengrin._ Wagnerian worshippers in their thousands. What
shall she do who comes after _Albani_ in the part of _Elsa_? That
is the question, and MAGGIE McINTYRE supplies the answer, which
is Uncommonly well. A sweet picture in a gentle frame of mind, so
Macintirely pure and simple. A trying, very trying, part. How grand
are the DE RESZKÉS--JEAN and EDOUARD--or more familiarly as we come to
know them better, JACK and NED. NED looking well, and singing so too,
in spite of recent chill. Warmth of reception to-night would thaw any
chill. But what a couple of bores are the characters of _Ortruda_
and _Telramondo_, even when superbly played as to-night, by Madame
FURSCH-MADI--(the real Mahdi at last!)--and Signor DAN DRADY, bedad!
Fortunately the Opera is considerably curtailed, or we should never
hear the last of it.

_Saturday._--_Il Trovatore._ Great night for "the big, big D",--that
is, for "the high D," on which the new tenor, M. RAWNER, alights with
a sudden bound that electrifies the house. His "high D" is quite an
_Eiffel tour de force_. Henceforth M. RAWNER must be known as "the
High D-iddle-diddle" tenor, and His Highness will be expected to
sustain his high reputation. Vocal effort almost eclipsed by wonderful
physical force, which enables him to burst through the prison
walls and bow to audience, who are enthusiastically applauding the
_Miserere_. Unfortunately M. RAWNER, being a stranger in these parts,
cannot find his way back again, and so is unavoidably prevented from
being present at his own execution, which, in his absence, takes place
without him. Madame TETRAZZINA--her first appearance here--not so
great, perhaps, as she is good and graceful. DAN DRADY and Madame
SCALCHI as "per usual," which is the highest praise. End of first
week. General satisfaction.

       *       *       *       *       *

THE PLEASURE-SEEKER'S VADE MECUM.

_Q._ I trust you have had a delightful time recently?

_A._ Indeed I have, with the assistance of Private Views, Special
Performances, and Second-rate First Nights.

_Q._ Did you assist at the _première_ of _Gretna Green_, the new
"Comedy Opera" at the Opéra Comique?

_A._ An Act of it. It had already been played on a previous occasion,
when I fancy one of the principal performers, finding that his part
was dragging, introduced imitations of popular modern actors. As the
period of _Gretna Green_ is the eighteenth century, this innovation
must have been at once pleasing and appropriate.

_Q._ I think you have also been present at the first performance of
the "Wild East," at the Earl's Court Exhibition?

_A._ I have had that advantage, and am now thoroughly conversant with
the manners and customs of our lively neighbours in some parts of
Africa.

_Q._ Are those manners and customs what may be termed--quaint?

_A._ They are very quaint. Still I am not sure that I have not seen
something very like them before. As for the Exhibition itself, there
is as little doubt about its being French, as there was about last
year's display being Spanish.

_Q._ Have you been to the Flower Show at the Aquarium?

_A._ I have; but did not find that home of scientific research quite
so full as it was when the Directors were testing the powers of
endurance of the Fasting Man.

_Q._ Do you consider the Westminster Aquarium of material assistance
in developing the latent civilisation of the nineteenth century?

_A._ Indeed, I do; especially now that "the Royal Bears" are a feature
in the daily programme.

_Q._ Did you pass the Bank Holiday pleasantly?

_A._ When I tell you that I seized the opportunity to go to Calais and
back third-class excursion with a number of anti-temperance-movement
fellow passengers, you will see at once that the festival must have
been to me a source of unmixed enjoyment!

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: THE ARGUMENT BY ANALOGY.

_Mariar Ann._ "WHAT A BEAUTIFUL 'OUSE, MISS! WHAT A LOT O' RENT YOU
MUST 'AVE TO PAY! I SUPPOSE LADIES AND GENTLEMEN _DO_ PAY RENT?"

_Daughter of the House._ "OF COURSE THEY DO."

_Mariar Ann._ "WHAT A DEAL O' TROUBLE YOUR FATHER MUST 'AVE, TO GET IT
TOGETHER EVERY WEEK!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

"COUNTRY AND DUTY."

OLD MORALITY (_in flannels_) _sings_;--

  Ouf! Free from their "howlings and whinings" awhile,
    (Which, as the _Times_ tells us, are frightful--are frightful.)
  But here Nature smiles, a true Smithian smile,
    And the change from the House is delightful--delightful!
  A smile which, as GOSCHEN would say, one can _hear_;
    A _susurrus_ sweeps over the river--the river.
  Oh, Henley in May to my heart is as dear
    As to Spaniards the gay Guadalquivir--dalquivir!

  No doubt they are yelping and yapping like mad;
    In such hobbles cantankerous spleen lands--rous spleen lands.
  I peacefully sprawl on the turf, and am glad;
    The Blue Devils never reach Greenlands--reach Greenlands.
  By Jove, they have led me a doose of a life!
    Their conduct is sheer criminality--nality.
  Here, though, thank Heaven, I'm far from the strife,
    Here the wicked won't vex OLD MORALITY--RALITY!

  True, 'tisn't for long, a clear week at the most.
    They would worry us out of our Whitsuntide--Whitsuntide.
  But still we all feel, though I don't want to boast,
    Like Park-hacks in paddock, or "tits" untied--"tits" untied.
  They mock my wide smile, and my scantness of thatch;
    I think, though, in managing skill I am--skill I am,
  All things considered, much more than a match
    For swaggering, swashing Sir WILLIAM--WILL-I-AM!

  Lawks! this _is_ lovely! But, SMITHY my lad,
    In the midst of Arcadian beauty--an beauty,
  You mustn't forget (the reflection is sad)
    What is due to your Country and Duty--and Duty.
  That's why I have brought down this Holiday Task.
    Though slumber-inviting the weather--the weather,
  I'll turn my true hands, whilst in sunshine I bask,
    To the use of the brush and wash-leather--wash-leather!

  It's got a bit rusty from sheer want of use;
    Though they tell me I'm promptish at pouncing--at pouncing.
  Ah me! E'en an angel comes in for abuse,
    Or _me_ they would not be denouncing--denouncing.
  A crocodile's sure to be down on the Gag,
    And HARCOURT'S a fair alligator--ligator;
  He's awfully wide in the jaw, for a wag,
    But _I_'ll tie up the would-be dictator--dictator!

  They're out without muzzles, the whole noisy pack,
    (I wish some sharp Bobby would run 'em in--run 'em in,)
  But _I'll_ be prepared for them when they come back.
    The fight for free jaw I have done 'em in--done 'em in.
  Good gracious! One's duty to Country and Queen
    Cannot be well done, as all know, by a--know, by a
  Man amidst yelpings of furious spleen,
    Suggestive of sheer hydrophobia--phobia!

  And so, whilst _sub tegmine fagi_ I sit,
    And pass in May sunshine a jolly day--jolly day,
  I think I'll just brush up this weapon a bit,
    And so make a good use of my holiday--holiday.
  They're bound to come back, and if barking they come,
    I'll be ready--and willing--to muzzle 'em--muzzle 'em.
  Dumb dogs may bite, but when _this_ makes 'em dumb,
    To bite us, I fancy, will puzzle 'em--puzzle 'em!

                                       [_Left smiling and scrubbing._

       *       *       *       *       *

MR. DUNTHORNE of Vigo Street is exhibiting a collection of
"Atmospheric Notes," which are not, as Esoteric Buddhists might
conclude, missives forwarded by astral current from a Mahatma, but
a series of very charming pastels, by Mr. GEORGE HITCHCOCK. They are
records of land, sea, and sky effects in Holland, characterised by a
poetry and feeling, and a subtlety of colour that give equal pleasure
to mind and eye. _Mr. Punch_ predicts, that the fortunate possessor of
any one of these Notes, will be in no hurry to change it.

[Illustration: "COUNTRY AND DUTY."

MR. W. H. S. "IT'S GOT A LITTLE RUSTY,--BUT I'LL HAVE IT READY IN
TIME!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: AN UNKIND SUGGESTION.

_Cabby (who has been paid his legal fare in threepenny bits and
coppers)._ "WHERE DID YER GET THIS LOT FROM, EH? BEEN A ROBBIN' THE
CHILD'S MONEY-BOX?"]

       *       *       *       *       *

ROBERT AT GUILDHALL.

WELL, if we aint bin and had a fine time of it at Gildhall this
last week or two, it's a pitty! What the pore harf-starved County
Counsellors must have thort of it all, it isn't for me to say, and
how they all felt when the ginerous old Copperashun tossed 'em a few
dozzen tickets to skrambel for, when the great Mr. STANLEY came to
supper, of course I carnt tell, but them few as I knowed seemed to
find their way to my refreshment department as if by hinstinkt. I
didn't, of course, hear the grate Traweller's grand speech, but I'm
told as my pore namesake, Sir ROBERT FOWLER M.P.'s face was a site to
see while he lissened to sitch a descripshun of his Quaker Friends as
he probberbly never heard afore.

There was grate complaints made about the want of enuff wittles and
drink, but anyone who seed, as I did, the fust rush for 'em by the
hungry mob, couldn't have been much surprised at that. Why, I myself
seed, with my two estonished eyes, one gent, as I spose he called
hisself, take up a hole dish of most lovely Hoyster Pattys, and skoop
out all the Hoysters with a spoon, and then return the hemty Pattys
from whence they came! Feeling as I couldn't be of no more use after
there was nothink left for me to hand to the fresh mob as kept on
arriving, I quietly warked off, and made my way to the supper-room,
where the hemenent Traweller was aswaging the pangs of hunger
with reel Turtel Soup and setterer. Ah! what a contrast! Plenty of
everythink, and plenty of room to enjoy it.

With that abundant kindness as so distinguishes him, the LORD MARE
acshally hintroduced me to the Ero of the Heavening, who kindly shook
hands with me, and hoped as how as we shood meet again, which I can
quite bleeve if he thinks as it allers includes reel Turtel Soup, and
setterer. Rayther different living to what he has bin accustomed
to for 3 years parst, pore Feller! They tell me as he as bin to the
Mountins of the Moon. Evins! ow did he get back? By balloon. But I
don't kwite bleeve horl I eers.

But on the following Friday there wasn't not no xceptions to anythink,
and everrybody, from the Prince of WALES hisself, down to the werry
umblest Postman or Sorter, left that nobel old Hall, estonished, and
delited, and appy.

And no wunder, for, by the combined efforts of the hole Copperashun
and its werry numerus Staff, and the hole Army of Postmen, and
Tellacram Men, and all manner of Sorters, and Stampers, St.
Martin's-le-Grand was removed boddily to Gildall, and everything
that was ever done in the one place was dun in the other before the
estonished eyes of sum two thousand of us, ewen includin four-horse
Male Coaches, with sacks of letters, and reel Gards with reel Horns,
which they blowed most butifully. It was a gloreus Jewbelee! I'm that
bizzy I hardly noes wich way to turn first, so no more at pressunt
from yores trewly,

ROBERT.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: SUGGESTIONS FOR PICTORIAL DIRECTORY.

Regent's Circus.]

       *       *       *       *       *

OUR NEW DUKE.

AIR--"THE WIDDY MALONE."

  Did ye hear of the Duke of ATHLONE?
                                 Ohone!
  He's a son of the Heir to the Throne
                            Full grown.
      Of a prince quite a pictur',
      Is young ALBERT VICTOR,
  Who'll now as the Duke of ATHLONE
                          Be known,
  He'll be the Great Gun of Athlone!

       *       *       *       *       *

A MID-DAY MEAL-LENNIUM.

(_With Salutation to the "Society for the Promotion of Enjoyment
during Luncheon Hours, specially in the City."_)

LUNCHING AS IT IS.

No, I certainly did _not_ order Irish Stew; but as you have now
brought it, and I have been waiting a quarter of an hour for a cut
from the joint, I prefer to take it.

This room is very stuffy and crowded. Is that purple-faced gentleman
in the corner suffering from an apoplectic stroke?

No; but _he_ has been waiting _half_ an hour for the Irish Stew which
I have just annexed. He seems angry about it.

Waiter, would you try not to kick my chair and knock the back of my
head every time you pass with a dish?

Yes, I know it's a narrow gangway, and that everybody in this dark and
confined crib which you call a City Restaurant is cramped for room;
still, I _do_ object to collisions between my best hat and somebody
else's victuals.

Would you mind talking to me in the Deaf and Dumb Alphabet? In this
maddening clatter it is impossible to hear a word you say.

That young man three from me is evidently training as the Champion
Express Eater of the World. He has got through joint, potatoes,
rhubarb tart, and Cheddar cheese in seven minutes, and is now putting
on his hat to go.

AS IT OUGHT TO BE.

Is this spacious airy hall, with a fountain playing in the middle of
shrubs, and abundant light coming in through painted windows, really
the "Apple-pie Restaurant" in its new form?

And this neat-handed Phyllis, who respectfully awaits my orders
as soon as I have taken my very comfortable seat, _can_ she be the
substitute for the over-worked and distracted City waiter of the past?

I see that especial care is taken to prevent the room being filled
with more lunchers than it can hold with comfort to each individual
customer, by an apparatus which automatically closes the door when
every seat is full.

What! No shooting down of one's plate before one as if fired from a
catapult, and no tedious waiting for dishes never ordered! This is a
Luncher's Paradise.

It seems possible that I may now escape the dyspepsia which, in the
old days, was the unfailing legacy of lunch.

       *       *       *       *       *

"TOUJOURS 'GAY.'"--On an exit of Mrs. LANGTRY, as _Esther Sandraz_, at
the St. James's Theatre:--

  "Adieu! she cried, and wav'd her Lily hand."

[How is it that Messrs. Transparent Soap & Co. have never hit on this?
Presented gratis.]

       *       *       *       *       *

FORTHCOMING NEW WORK to be expected in about six weeks' time,
_Newton's Principia_, revised and corrected by Mr. JUSTICE CAVE.

       *       *       *       *       *

GROSVENOR GEMS. (FIRST VISIT.)

[Illustration: No. 150. The Old Hand teaching "Blind Hookey" to his
Young Friends.]

[Illustration: No. 26. "Sail or Return."]

[Illustration: No. 190. Lottie and Stottie of Oldham.]

[Illustration: No. 381. "Sich a gettin' up Stairs!" "How shall we get
on to landing of the Gallery from here without a trapèze?"]

[Illustration: No. 92. Photography under Difficulties.]

       *       *       *       *       *

OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.

Not much time for books this week, says the Baron; just been able to
glance at W. S. LILLY'S _Right and Wrong_: verdict--so far, all right,
nothing wrong. Sharp chapter on journalism--severe, but not unjust.
Picked up small book, for which inquire at W. H. SMITH'S bookstalls,
_Four Thousand Years After_, by HELEN L. CHEVALIER. Baroness having
read it, highly recommends it in hot weather, as being a weird,
mystical legend, of a soothing and interesting character, commencing a
few years before "ADAM delved and EVE span," and finishing in the time
of steam yachts; so that it is brought right up to date. It is full of
incident and picturesque description. I see Mr. FARJEON has been at
it again with the _Mystery of M. Felix_. _Felix_--Happy Thought. Mr.
HARRY FURNISS'S _Academy Antics_ is entertaining reading, and some
of the earlier illustrations are quite Gilrayish in their breadth of
style, not of subject.

BARON DE BOOK-WORMS.

       *       *       *       *       *

PHENOMENON IN NATURAL HISTORY (_by an observant
Cricketer_).--Obtaining a Duck's Egg from a Bat.

       *       *       *       *       *

IN THE KNOW.

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

EVERY jackass who ever was seen in the pig-skin knows perfectly well,
or ought to know, unless his brain has gone barnacle-hunting in one of
Mr. J.'s journalistic bum-boats, that a race is to take place at Epsom
in the early part of next month. It has been customary to speak of
this race as the Derby, and to imagine that the owner whose horse wins
it gains possession of the Blue ribbon of the turf. As if, forsooth,
in a matter like this, the colour mattered in the very least. But
I have a further objection to this hugger-mugger, three-cornered,
rag-and-bone, vermilion-faced, grog-blossomed, hash-headed fashion of
describing things, and it is this. If a two-year-old, provided with
one of Mrs. PARTINGTON'S patent range-finding, rectangular brooms, can
beat an unbroken four-year-old over the Nose-bag Handicap Course
by fourteen shoe-nails in a hundred, how in the name of all that
is lop-sided can a three-masted frigate in full sail keep up with a
Chinese Junk on Southampton Water? I pause for a reply, but knowing
the anserous, venomous imbecility of the vermin who infest the turf, I
think it will be a long time before I get one.

_Crimson Jack_ is a good horse--no thanks to the puddling and
pilfering slop-shop proprietors who manage him. When he used to draw
a dust-cart in Grosvenor Square he accustomed himself to the sound
of the saddling bell, and now knows when luncheon time has arrived.
A year ago, I wouldn't have given a copper shirt-stud for him, never
having even heard of him. Now I believe him to be worth even more than
the £10 given for him by the Ropes Contingent. But I have got my eye
on them, and they know it. The mooncalves * * * gruel-brains * * *
puddling simpletons * * * muddy and pernicious rascals * * * dolts,
dumplings and dunderheads * * * poisonous, pestilential, crawling,
goose-faced reptiles * * * rely on it I know. * * *

[There has been no time to send this proof for correction, and it
has, therefore, been printed as it was received, gaps and all.--ED.
_Punch._]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: A LITTLE PARTY IN EAST AFRICA ONLY GOING TO COLLECT A
FEW BUTTERFLIES AND FLOWERS FOR THE DEAR KAISER, THAT IS ALL!!

"We came very near to having Kilima-Njaro attached to the British
Empire, only the German Emperor said he would very much like it,
because he was so fond of the _flora_ and _fauna_ of the place....
Would the English have expected to get any territory on account of
their great interest in the _flora_ and _fauna_ here."--_Stanley
speaking at Chamber of Commerce, May 21._]

       *       *       *       *       *

WEEK BY WEEK.

_Monday and Tuesday._--Nothing particular, except meeting Mr. STANLEY.

_Wednesday._--_Mr. Punch_ comes out. General rejoicings.

_Thursday._--Milk Adulteration Contest at Wormwood Scrubbs.
Cat-shooting in Eaton Square commences. Treacle-makers' Company insist
on presenting their Bicentenary Gold Medal to Mr. STANLEY.

_Friday._--Private Eclipse of the Sun, invisible to everybody, except
Mr. STANLEY.

_Saturday._--Banquet of the Bargain-Drivers' Benevolent Association.
Song by Mr. STANLEY, _Meet me by Moonlight_.

_Sunday._--Festival of the Five Quires for a Shilling. Everybody in
"Go-to-Meeting-STANLEY Costume."

_Monday._--Afternoon Firework Display at the People's Palace.

       *       *       *       *       *

SOME amusement was created at the Anniversary Dinner of the United
Crossing-Sweepers' Provident Association, held last night, by the
Noble Chairman's reference to his early experiences on a West End
crossing. What he saw then had led him to believe, he said, that the
lot of one who preserves the boots of the public from mud is not all
beer and skittles. He had, however, formed a very exalted idea of the
dignity of the calling to which they all belonged. It is, of course,
well known that the Noble Earl owed his rise from the position of
broom-holder to an opportune legacy from an old lady, whom he saved,
at the risk of his own life, from being ground to powder by a runaway
costermonger's barrow.

       *       *       *       *       *

A Correspondent sends us some interesting notes of meteorological
observations during the past month. "I have noticed," he writes, "that
under certain atmospheric conditions the streets and pavements of the
Metropolis are invariably damp. This phenomenon is generally preceded
by the withdrawal of the sun, followed almost immediately by a
prevalence of _imber_. After this has lasted for some time, it is
usual for the water-carts to make their appearance."

       *       *       *       *       *

"A MANCHESTER MOTHER" makes the following pertinent observations on
the fashions prevailing amongst men at the present day. "Why," she
asks, "should some men prefer boots with buttons, while others like
their boots laced? Why again should it be considered right for
some men to wear dark blue overcoats, and for others to wear black?
Finally, if a man standing six foot two in his stocking-feet is to a
bank holiday as a six-inch collar is to a pork-pie, how comes it
that a tartan waistcoat and a pair of green plush trousers cost five
shillings and sixpence per square inch?" We confess that we are unable
to find answers to these questions.

       *       *       *       *       *

Two Policemen were yesterday observed in earnest conversation with
a well-known member of the Bermondsey Bull-pup Club. Eventually
the three Gentlemen departed for an adjacent police-station, their
proceedings forming a subject for animated comment amongst the
juvenile population of the neighbourhood.

       *       *       *       *       *

Four receptions, six public dinners, five evening parties, and eight
dances were given in different parts of London yesterday, "to meet Mr.
H. M. STANLEY." We are glad to know that the great explorer maintains
his imperturbable good humour.

       *       *       *       *       *

IT is computed that the number of pretty women in London this Season
is just double of what it was last year.

       *       *       *       *       *

SHORT MATHEMATICAL PAPER.

1. Solve the short equation ([Greek: a + s + s + a + u + l + t]) × 2
= 14 days.

2. Given log. ·321 and density [Greek: glue], how much Port would you
deduce from this?

3. Show under what circumstances P'liceman x^2 = Two-and-sixpence.

4. What is the probability of two blue eyes becoming black if A, a
stranger, wins half-a-crown three times running at a baccarat-table in
Tottenham Court Road? Calculate to five places of decimals the chances
of A's appearance as prosecutor at Bow Street next morning.

5. Construct a set of Tables showing how the interest increases in a
geometrical progression as the principal is paid off. A., a flat, goes
to B., a money-lender, to raise £100. A. receives £7 10_s._ 6_d._ in
gold; what balance will he receive in grand old sherry and real Havana
Bremerhaven cigars?

6. Show how to re-construct a series of Companies (on the square),
with a million capital, within two months of formation, in such a way
that the Shareholders get nothing, and still remain liable for future
calls. Is the root of the above operation to be found in defective
legislation?

       *       *       *       *       *

THE ART OF BLACKING BOOTS.

  DEAR MR. PUNCH,

[Illustration]

YOU'LL be glad most likely to hear what's going on in the
boot-blackin' world, of which I'm now a honarery member, havin'
bin thirty-five years at it come next Chrismas, and now retired to
Camberwell to do the rest of my life easy. Fact is, Sir, there's a
many young 'uns come on, and scarcely sufficient boots for 'em to get
a livin out of, more partikler with them new yaller boots, which
is pison to the honest boot-black. So thinks I to myself, I've bin
polishin' a long time and knows all the tricks of it, why shouldn't
I lend a 'and to them as is startin'. I'll write down what I knows
myself, and I'll get all the best blackers of the day to tell me what
they knows about it, and then I'll set the lot together and get it
printed. Fact is, I got put on the job by a feller who come to see me
'tother day--a tidy young sprig, full of all them new notions. Says 'e
to me, "BILL," 'e says, "'ow do you walk?" "Why," I say, "on two legs
like the rest of 'em; what do you think?" "No," 'e says, "that ain't
what I mean, you Juggins" (there's a pretty word to use to one old
enough to be his father); "what is the process you go through in
walking?" "Well," I says, "if that's what you're up to, I mostly puts
one foot in front of 'tother, and arterwards brings the back foot
forrard and leaves 'tother behind." "Ah," says 'e, "that's jest where
you make a bloomin' errer. Your brain sends a message through your
nerves, and then you set to work, movin' the extenser mussels and the
glutyus maksimus, and there you are." Well, I thought about that
a lot, and on the top of it I got 'old of a book called the Art of
Authorship, by Mister GEORGE BAINTON, who's agoin' to teach everybody
'ow to write things pretty and proper, and make no end of money out
of it. Pr'aps, thinks I to myself, there's more in blackin' boots than
meets the eye. I'll write about that on the same plan, gettin' all the
fellers I know to 'elp me. Fust, I drew up a lot of questions, and I
sent 'em round. Then when the ansers come in I got a young chap, who
writes for the _Camberwell Star_, to polish 'em up a bit with grammar
and spellin', asking 'im to do it like Mister GEORGE BAINTON. I've
jest dropped in a word or two of my own 'ere and there, to show what I
mean. So 'ere they are, Sir, and quite at your servis; and I knows
if you prints 'em, there's many a boot-black unborn, as'll bless your
name, not forgettin',

  Yours truely,
  the Author,
  BILL THE BOOTBLACK.

INTRODUCTION.

IN putting these notes together, I have been animated solely by the
desire to enable those, whom motives of self-interest, or of ambition,
or the irresistible impulse of innate genius, may induce to enter
upon the profession of blacking, to acquire by living examples of
acknowledged ability, a true and genuine perfection in the art. For
art it is. Let nobody undertake it lightly. There is no room in the
busy throng of ardent blackers for the idler or the fribble. Such men
may write books, they cannot black boots. Style is everything, style
which colours the boots, roots itself in them, and uplifts them to the
highest pinnacle of Art. (N.B.--I took this sentens nearly strait
from GEORGE BAINTON.--_B. the B._) Therefore, my young friends, study
style. Whenever you see a well-blacked boot in the street, in the
counting-house, or in the sanctity of home, fix your eyes upon it.
Thus you will learn, and may in time black boots as well as I do
myself.

(N.B.--GEORGE writes the most extronery fine English, I'm told, and
o' course 'e wants the young 'uns to do the same. Same with me and the
boots.--_B. the B._)

My first answer is from JAMES HUGGINS, who as is well-known, polishes
the foot-coverings of the innumerable visitors who throng to the
Transcontinental Hotel. He says, "you ask me how I acquired my
unquestioned ability as a blacker. I answer, 'by constantly studying
the best models.' When I was quite a small boy I used to polish all
the boots within reach, and I well remember my father humorously
remonstrating with me, when he found me blacking an old pair of
worsted slippers given him by my mother. There is a method of
breathing on some boots and of spitting on others, which can only be
acquired by long practice. A large boot with many knobs, is best for a
beginner."

Next I addressed my inquiries to GEORGE BREWSHER, more generally known
under his nick-name of DANDY GEORDIE. No man has a wider reputation.
His reply is instructive. "It is useless," he says, "to study models.
I tried that, and the result was that I used to black all the patent
leathers, and varnish the ordinary ones. So I gave up study and relied
upon my own talents. At the present day, nobody in the whole world can
put a truer shine on the dampest boot. I scarcely know how I do it.
I only know I do it. I always keep my brushes in good order, drink a
toothful of gin at bed-time, and never let a single day pass without
blacking something."

My next reply was from LEMUEL D. DODGE, of New York, a boot-polisher
whose delicate and refined style has won him admirers in this country
as well as his own. "Character," he observes, "is everything. I always
analyse my blacking three times over, and then lay it on thin with a
camel's hair-brush. I find this method much more satisfactory and less
tiring than the rough and ungainly scrubbing so much in vogue with
your English artists."

Miss SALLY PIPPIN, who officiates in The Metropolitan Ladies'
Boot Emporium, kindly sends me the following notes. "I have had no
education at all. I find it quite useless. All you require is to make
a shine. It's as easy as shelling peas. By the way, I always wear
my hair brought up at the back. This hint may be useful to intending
bootblacks."

(That's enough for one go, I rayther fancy. There's lots more o' the
same sort all ekally valuble, but I mustn't let you have it all at
once.--_B. the B._)

       *       *       *       *       *

EARLY GREEN PEAS.

_A Gourmand's Ditty._

  THERE'S a pleasure in Rhubarb, fresh, early and red,
    When it comes with the flush of the newly born year,
  There's a joy in the tasty Asparagus head
    That is met with in soup, be it thick,--be it clear!
  There's delight in the oyster; a peace that ne'er fails
    In the placid enjoyment the Plover's egg brings,
  A sense of calm peace in your nicely cooked quails,
    But oh! there's one dish that will crown all these things;
  For what, with such rapture the palate can please
    As the first welcome helping of Early Green Peas!

  You may bring me Clyde salmon, three shillings the pound,
    Red mullet in envelope, done to a turn,
  The young spring potatoe, dug fresh from the ground,
    The daintiest cream from a Devonshire churn:
  You may offer me salad that's almost divine,
    With a chicken so plump it should gladden the heart;
  You may say, "Wash that down with the best brands of wine,
    And follow it up with young gooseberry tart!"
  My reply is but this, "Ah! withhold all of these!
    But yield me the rapture of Early Green Peas!"

       *       *       *       *       *

THE FIVE O'CLOCK TEA BONNET COMPANY.--Under the above title a
Fashionable Company has been inaugurated by several high-born, but
impecunious Ladies, who, importing a model bonnet from Paris, and
reproducing it in British materials, with more or less success,
hope, by a judicious association of the shopkeeping instinct with
the _recherché_ gloze of the best social circles, to dispose of their
stock to a _clientèle_, consisting of the many toadying and snobbish
friends who would be caught by the idea of purchasing their bonnets at
an establishment where their orders would be taken by an impoverished
Lady of title, and delivered at their residences, possibly, by the
daughter of a Baronet or Nobleman, in reduced circumstances. The rooms
of the New Company that will be shortly opened at the West End, in the
immediate vicinity of Bond Street, though supplied with a counter
on which a few of the choicest exhibits of the establishment can be
displayed, will be in all other respects furnished after the fashion
of a Modern Upper-class May-Fair Drawing-room, to which intending
Purchasers will need no voucher of admission beyond that furnished by
their own visiting-card, on presentation of which they will be greeted
as friends, making an afternoon call, by the Fore-lady, who may be
temporarily presiding over the Show-room. Indeed, the key-note to the
_raison d'être_ of the FIVE O'CLOCK TEA BONNET COMPANY will be found
in the happy combination of High-class social intercourse, with
a satisfactory adhesion to the principles of ordinary West-End
shopkeeping. No special prices will be attached to the articles sold,
but they may be regarded on the whole, considering the advantageous
social circumstances under which they are established, as generally a
little in advance of those asked at the leading Professional West-End
Establishments of a similar kind. A generous margin in this direction
must, therefore, be looked for in the account. Bills, if required,
when contracted by well-known Leaders of Society, may stand over for
years, but a very handsome interest will, of course, be expected, in
the event of a long-delayed settlement.

       *       *       *       *       *

PUNCH AND "JUDAH."--_Mr. P._ defers his criticism on HENRY AUTHOR
JONES'S new play at the Shaftesbury ... until he has gone through the
formality of seeing it. From most accounts, it is evidently well worth
a visit.

       *       *       *       *       *

--> 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:

This book contains a lot of dialect.





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