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Title: Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 98, March 22, 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, Volume 98, March 22, 1890" ***

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  VOLUME 98.

  MARCH 22, 1890.

       *       *       *       *       *

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

"Always laugh at the Judge's jokes. It is not upon such an occasion that
his Lordship observes that he _will_ NOT have the Court turned into a

       *       *       *       *       *


I've jest been told another staggerer. Well, it seems then that, in one
of the werry largest and werry poppularest of all the Citty Parishes,
sum grand old Cristian Patriots of the holden times left lots of money,
when they was ded, and didn't want it no more, to be given to the Pore
of the Parish, for warious good and charitable hobjecs, such as for
rewarding good and respectabel Female Servants as managed to keep their
places for at least four years, in despite of rampageous Marsters, and
crustaceous Missuses; also for selling Coles to werry Pore Peeple at
sumthink like four pence per hundredweight, be the reglar price what it
may; also for paying what's called, I think, premeums for putting Pore
Boys or Pore Gals as aprentisses to warious trades, so as to lern and
laber truly to get a good living when they growd up, insted of loafing
about in dirt and hignorence; likewise for allowing little pensions to
poor old women as is a striving all their mite and main to keep
themselves out of the hated Workhouse; and there are seweral other
similar good purposes as the good Citizens of old left their money for,
and hundreds if not thowsands of pore but honest men and women has had
good cause to be grateful to 'em for their kind and pious thortfulness.

Well, I hardly xpecs to be bleeved when I says, that a law has been
passed that allows sutten werry respectabel but werry hignerant Gents,
called Charity Commissioners, to sweep away ewerry one of those truly
charitable hinstitutions, and to make use of all this money somewheres
else, and for sum other objecs, and for sum other peeple!

I ain't so werry much supprized as I ort to be, to learn that the ouse
of Commons--ouse of "Short Commons," I shud call 'em--has passed this
most wicked Law, _cos werry pore peeple ain't got no votes_; but I do
confess as I am supprised at the most respectabel and harrystocrattick
House of Lords a condesendin not merely to rob a pore man of his Beer,
but to rob a poor Made Servant of her 2 Ginneys reward for behaviour
like a Angel for four long weary years in the same place, be it a good
'un or a werry ard 'un, and to purwent a lot of pore hard working Men
and Women from getting their little stock of Coles in at about a quarter
of the reglar price! In course it ain't to be supposed as Washupfool
Books and Honnerabel Markisses can know or care much about the price of
Coals, altho there is one Most Honnerabel Markis, from whom I bort a
hole Tun larst year at rayther a high figger, who coud have told em, and
shood have told em all about it, tho' praps he's agin cheap Coles on
principal. And besides all this, it won't I shood think, be a werry
plezzant thort to come across a Noble Dook's or a Wirtuous Wiscount's
mind--if such eminent swells has em, like the rest on us--when they sees
a lot of dirty raggid boys and gals a loafing about the streets, to
think that if the money that was left hundreds of years ago by good men,
had been still used _as it was ordered to be used_, and has been used
for sentrys, these same raggid boys and gals wood have bin a learning of
some useful trade by which they might have hearnd a desent living.

In course I can hear, with my mind's ear, as _Amlet_ says, my thowsends
of simperthising readers shouting out, "What's the use of your crying
over spilt milk?" Well, none, of course, but I happens to have herd that
there's still _jest one chance left_. It seems that there is what's
called, I think, "_a appeal_" to sum werry heminent Swells called "the
Lords of the uncommon Counsel on Eddication," and the kind-hearted
Church Wardens, as I has before eluded to, means to make one; and ewery
kind-hearted Cristian Man and Woman as reads my truthful statement, and
can feel, as me, and Lords, and Ladies as well, can, and ort to, and
must feel, will wish 'em thurrur suksess in their good, and kind, and
mussiful atemt to hobtane justiss for them as carnt no hows obtane it
for theirselves.


       *       *       *       *       *





MY DEAR SIR,--Now is _the_ time to remit to me for the forthcoming big
movements I intend to make during the current Month. If my last Circular
proved true down to the very last letter, this one will be ten times
truer. What did I say last month? I said there would be a big rise in
Boomerang Rails, which were then at 11¾. In 57½ hours after my
Circular was issued they had risen to 110-7/16, and many of my clients
made thousands of pounds. One of them actually making the magnificent
sum of £27,876 11s. 4¼_d._ I love to be accurate, so I give the exact

Now is the time, I repeat. No one out of the millions of clients, from
an Exalted Lady, whom delicacy forbids me to name, down to the junior
waiter at the Pomona, ever lost by coming to me. I also advised, and I
repeat it this month,


They were hardly quoted on the Stock Exchange--hardly known even--when I
took them up on the 1st of April last year. Where are they now? At 119!
And they will move on to 219 before the year ends. I have means of
information possessed by none besides me. I have a wire of my own laid
on to every Embassy house on the Continent; every _attaché_, every
dragoman is my correspondent, and more than one Crowned Head has
honoured me with the secrets of his last Council, or of his resolves on
War or Peace. I myself am a Power. I can make and unmake and ruin homes
as well as any Czar or Emperor.

But I bind the clients who trust me with bands of iron.

Again I say buy


Remit the necessary Cover to me at once. Small sums combined make large
ones, and you cannot be in too soon. Five-pence (a sum you would throw
at a crossing-sweeper) covers Five Pounds. Here is my scale:--

  £1 covers   £1000.
  £5   "      £5000.
  £20  "    £200,000.

But send me whatever you like, and it will prove the most important act
of your life; one you will never forget.

Again I say buy


There is fascination in their very name. Don't do the thing weakly. Act
on the advice of that great man BARRY LYNDON, and speculate grandly.
Take the history of one out of thousands of fortunes made by me for

A BANK CLERK, hard up, desperately pressed by his duns, had received a
small remittance from his father, a struggling Clergyman. The sum
amounted to £50, just enough to pay the young fellow's bills, and leave
him a paltry sovereign. Do you think he was such a fool as to have read
my Circular in vain? He very wisely brought the money to me. I bought
Boomerangs at 11¾. In 57½ hours that young man was a _millionnaire_. He
has magnificent chambers on the Embankment; shows himself in the Row at
the present time; would not look at a cigar under half-a-crown; and has
not entirely forgotten the claims of his family, for to my knowledge he
has remitted several pounds to his younger brothers.--Again I say,


One Word of Caution, and I conclude Circular 1059. BE VERY CAUTIOUS OF
SOME PEOPLE I KNOW. Once trust yourself to them, and it is all
U.P.--Wire immediately (_and send the necessary cover_) to

  Yours truly,


P.S.--When once you have tasted the joys of speculation, you will think
and care for nothing else. The click of the Tape Machine is music to
you. I have one going all night in my bed-room.

       *       *       *       *       *

It_",--come and see it!

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: MADAME DIOGENES.]

_Diogenes._ What are these better possessions you speak of?

_Krates._ Wisdom, self-sufficiency, truth, plain-speaking, freedom.

LUCIAN'S _Dialogues of the Dead_.

  Ah! Madame La France, after trials all round
    Of great Chiefs and their squabbling political progenies,
  Like him of Sinope, at last you are found
    With lantern in hand, a true Lady Diogenes.
  The precinct is dark, and seems growing still dimmer,
  Your wandering light shows a devious glimmer.

  A right Honest Man? He was scarce in the Courts.
    He seems very nearly as scarce in the Caucuses.
  You've had leaders of late of all sizes and sorts,
    And the gloom of the outlook is utter as Orcus's.
  Imperial, Royalist, Red Flag or White,
  Not one of them leads La Belle France to the light.

  Wisdom, truth and plain-speaking? Ah, where are they found?
    As scarce in these days as is genuine freedom!
  They all prate of Honour, yet Honour all round
    They'll sell for the first mess of pottage from Edom.
  Well, Madame, _Punch_ wishes you luck with your lantern,
  And up, soon or late, may a true Honest Man turn!

       *       *       *       *       *


(_By The O'Greedy._)

  O bright new-comer, I have seen,
    I see thee, and rejoice;
  Though what the coster-man may mean
    I judge not, by his voice.
  I see thee, and to either eye
    The tears unbidden start;
  O rhubarb! shall I call thee pie,
    Or art thou truly tart?

  I was not wont thy charms to see
    When childhood stubborn stood
  Fix'd in the faith, that thou must be
    Too wholesome to be good.
  Just as we loved the cloying jam,
    By no effects dismay'd,
  Regarding as a bitter sham
    The honest marmalade.

  When daffodillies deck the shops,
    And hyacinths indoors
  Recall the flavour of the drops
    We used to suck by scores
  (Pear-drops they were,--a subtle blend
    Of hyacinthine smell,
  And the banana's blackest end,--
    We loved them, and were well);

  When chrysalis-buds are folded thick,
    And crocuses awake,
  And, like celestial almonds, stick
    In Flora's tipsy-cake;
  Before the crews are on the Thames,
    The swallows on the wing,
  The radiant rhubarb-bundle flames,
    The lictor-rod of Spring.

  Still, still reluctant Winter keeps
    Some chill surprise in store,
  And Spring through frosty curtain peeps
    On snowdrifts at her door;
  The full moon smites the leafless trees,
    So full, it bursts with light,
  Till the sharp shadows seem to freeze
    Along the highway white.

  Yet the keen wind has heard the song
    Of summer far away.
  And, though he's got the music wrong,
    We know what he would say.
  For in the vegetable cart
    Thy radiant stalks we spy.
  O rhubarb, should we call thee tart,
    Or art thou merely pie?

  And why not so? The cushat dove
    To such a shrine we trust,
  Though in dumb protest she will shove
    Her tootsies through the crust;
  And larks, that sing at Heaven's gate
    When April clouds are high,
  Not seldom gain the gourmet's plate
    Through portals of the pie.

  So thou, sweet harbinger of Spring,
    Gules of her blazon'd field,
  If in a pie thy praise we sing,
    To worthy fate wilt yield.
  Enough! I sing; let others eat:
    Be mine the poet's lot.
  The thought of thee is all too sweet--
    The taste of thee is not.

       *       *       *       *       *


_Priest_ (_teaching Catechism in Catholic School_). "NOW, SAUNDERS,
REPEAT THE TEN----" _All the other Boys._ "PLEASE, FATHER, THIS 'ERE

       *       *       *       *       *


Mr. BENSON, the enterprising young Lessee of the Globe Theatre, on two
evenings of the week affords a spectacle of the greatest possible
interest to every Shakspearian student. His _Hamlet_ is rather given to
noisy declamation when greatly moved, but, barring this, seems to be a
thoroughly good-natured harmless creature, who, as fond of dabbling in
private theatricals, would probably be hailed as an acquisition at the
Meistersingers Club and cognate institutions. The innovations introduced
into the action relieve the gloom of the Tragedy. Take for instance, the
treatment of _Ophelia_, which is full of quiet humour. That she should
look as old as _Hamlet's_ Mother, is of course, accidental, and is
purely attributable to the Globe _Gertrude_ being exceptionally comely
and youthful, still it has a very quaint effect. But the idea of the
unfortunate maid, after she has committed suicide, being carried _à la_
GUY FAUX into the throne-room with a sort of "See what we have found"
air, is broadly comic. The funeral with its "maimed rites," is also very
funny. Apparently, the Bishop (whose garb, by the way, seems to be a
compromise between an eccentric Jewish Rabbi and that of a decidedly
demented Roman Catholic Priest) has "contracted" for the procession,
with the result of collecting together a heterogeneous company,
consisting of modern High Church curates, a few members of some humorous
Confraternity, and a sprinkling of other amusing grotesques. But the fun
reaches its climax, when the body of _Ophelia_ herself is produced in,
what seemed to me to be, _a hamper_! The above example of what is being
done twice a week in Newcastle Street, Strand, will show how well worthy
of the scholar's notice is the present revival of _Hamlet_ at the Globe
Theatre. As actors, Mr. BENSON'S company are not entirely satisfactory.
As thinkers, however, they are worthy of the greatest possible respect.
Under these circumstances, it is to be hoped, that should they
ultimately, for sufficient reason, decide to give up acting, they will
yet resolve to continue what they do so well, and, in three words--go on
thinking. (_Signed_) BENE VESTITUS.

       *       *       *       *       *

COVENT GARDENING PROSPECTS.--The prospectus of the Italian Opera
Season lies on _Mr. Punch's_ table; but though this is its attitude,
there is no reason to doubt the truthfulness of its statements.
More anon. _En attendant_, we may say that the stage-management,
in the hands of AUGUSTUS DRURIOLANUS, is a guarantee for the excellence
of the _mises-en-scène_, of the misses-_en-scène_, and of the

       *       *       *       *       *


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


The Modern Dilettante will have been in boyhood a shorn lamb, for whom
it was necessary to temper the wind of an English education by a liberal
admixture of foreign travel. A prolonged course of interrupted studies
will have filled him with culture, whilst a distaste for serious effort,
whether mental or physical, and an innate capacity for mastering no
subject thoroughly will have produced in him that special refinement
which is to the Dilettante as a trade-stamp to Britannia metal. In
after-life, he will speak with regretful fondness, and with an accuracy
which he fails to apply to other matters of his "days" (four in number)
at a German University, and will submit with cheerfulness to the
reputation of having drunk deep from the muddy fountains of metaphysical
speculation, which are as abundant and as ineffective in Germany, as her
springs of mineral water.


Having passed his period of storm and stress without committing any of
those follies or indulging in any of those excesses by which the parents
of ordinary young men are afflicted, he will arrive without reproach at
the borders of an apparently blameless middle age, and, finding himself
after the death of his father, in the enjoyment of a settled income of
considerable size, he will set up in life as an acknowledged amateur of
all that is truly precious. In order that nothing may be wanting to him
for the proper pursuit of this calling, he will gather round him a
little band of boneless enthusiasts, who after paying due devotion to
themselves, and to one another, will join him in worshipping the dead or
living nonentities whose laurelled photographs adorn his rooms. He will
cover his couches with soft silks, his walls will be hung with
impressionist etchings and engravings of undraped ladies of French
origin, _terra-cotta_ statuettes principally of the young Apollo, will
be placed in every corner, and a marble bust of the young AUGUSTUS will
occupy the place of honour next to the grand piano, on which, will be
ranged the framed cabinet photographs of interesting young men. Each
photograph will bear upon it an appropriate inscription, announcing it
to be, for instance, a gift "From BOBBY to TODDLEKINS." Nothing more is
necessary for the perfect life of dilettantism, except to settle an
afternoon for tea, and an evening for music. When this is done the
Dilettante is complete.

It is curious, however, that although he aims at being considered a
poet, an artist, a dramatist, and a musical composer, the Dilettante
rather affects the society of those who are amateurs of imperfect
development, than of those who have attained fame by professional
effort. Yet since his nature is tolerant, he does not exclude the latter
from the scope of his benevolence, and they may occasionally be seen at
his parties, wondering how so strange a medley of second-rate
incompetencies can have been gathered together into one room.

It is noticeable, that the Dilettante loves the society of ladies, and
is not averse to encouraging amongst his intimates the belief, which
none of them holds though all express it, that he is in reality a
terrible fellow and much given to the destruction of domestic happiness.
He finds a sense of rest and security in fancying that he is suspected
of an intrigue. But it is somewhat remarkable, that the evil tongues
which make sad havoc of many unwilling reputations are very slow to
gratify the willing Dilettante in this respect. No Dilettante can be
considered genuine, unless he expresses a pitying contempt for
everything that is characteristically English, and for the unfortunate
English who are imbued with the prejudices of their native land. He
gives a practical expression to his scorn by quavering in a reedy voice,
the feeble _chansonnettes_ of an inferior French composer, and by
issuing a volume of poems in which the laws of English Grammar are
trampled under foot, and the restrictions of English metre are defied.
In his lyrical effusions he breathes the passionate desire of a great
soul for Love that is not of the earth. He aspires to the stars, and
invokes the memory of dead heroes, his intimates. He sets out to win
imperishable glory amidst the embattled ranks of his country's foes. He
lashes the cold and cruel heartlessness of the world with a noble scorn.
He addresses the skeletons of departed friends with passionate longing.
He finds that life and its gaudy pleasures are as dust and ashes in the

Having read these efforts to an admiring circle, he betakes himself with
infinite zest to the discussion of aesthetic tittle-tattle over a cup of
tea and a toasted bun. "Dear fellow," his friends will say of him at
such a moment, "he is so etherial; and his eyes, did you observe that
far-away, rapt look in them?" They will then take pleasure in persuading
one another without much difficulty, that they are the fine flower of
created beings.

The Dilettante, moreover, is a constant attendant at the first nights of
certain theatres. He figures with equal regularity as a large element in
the society gossip of weekly journals. He is a delicate eater and never
drinks too much out of the Venetian glasses, which his butler ruthlessly
breaks after the manner of domestics. There is amongst the inner circle
of the Dilettanti a jargon, both of voice and of gesture, which passes
muster as humour, but is unintelligible to the outer world of burly
Philistines. They dangle hands rather than shake them, and emphasise
their meaning by delicate finger-taps. Their phrases are distinguished
by a plaintive cadence which is particularly to be remarked in their
pronunciation of the word "dear."

At charitable concerts in aristocratic drawing-rooms the Dilettante is
in great request. On these occasions, he astonishes and delights his
friends with a new song, of which, he will have composed both the words
and the music, if he may be believed, whilst he was leaning from his
casement "watching the procession of the moon-lit clouds." He sometimes
smokes cigarettelets (a word must be coined to express their size and
strength), but he never attempts cigars, and loathes the homely pipe. In
gait and manner he affects a mincing delicacy, by which he seeks to
impress the thoughtless with a sense of his superior refinement. In
later life, he is apt to lose his hair, and to disguise the ravages of
time upon his cheeks by the aid of _rouge_. Yet he deceives nobody, and
having grown stout and wheezy is eventually carried off by a common cold
in an odour of _pastilles_. He will be buried in a wicker-work coffin
covered with lilies, and a rival Dilettante having written a limp and
limping sonnet to his memory, will take his evening.

       *       *       *       *       *


(_The Story of the Next Battle, written in advance for Next Month's
"Powder Magazine," by a Soldier in the Ranks._)

The Victory of Rumtumidity was certainly one of the most amusing things
I ever saw in my life. We landed at six o'clock in the evening, and
finding a grog-shop, were soon gone coons. Speaking for myself, I saw
the colours of the Regiment magnified by twenty! Well, we were ordered
to march, and off we started, staggering along in fine style. Out came
the moon, and one of us fell down in a dead faint.

"Suffering from sunstroke!" said the Surgeon, who was a Welsh Irishman.
"Leave him in the sand, and he will soon come to himself when he finds
you gone--if he doesn't, the vultures will hasten his movements."

This jest made us all laugh. Our Captain hearing one of us roaring a
trifle too loud, put his sword through him. Immense!

We marched along to the music of the prisoners, who yelled out bravely
when they were prodded by the guards set over them.

"Did you see the like!" said TIM O'FLANAGAN (from Edinburgh), who, no
doubt, would have developed the idea, had not his head at that moment
been carried off by a cannon-ball. Very comic!

"Now, my lads," said our Captain, who wasn't much of an orator, "look
here--England expects every man to do his duty; and, if you don't, why
_I_ am having you all watched, and, as sure as beans is beans, the
laggards will be bayoneted."

This little speech had the desired effect, especially after it had been
strengthened by a double ration of grog.

Then came the order to charge. We charged, and killed everyone we saw,
including our own officers. This simplified matters. A little later the
whole place was in our hands. Rumtumidity was taken!

Then came the order to bury the dead. But we did more--_we buried the
living with them_! Oh, how it made us laugh! Then came supper, and we
amused ourselves by telling to one another our adventures. I was just
recounting how I had emptied the pockets of a deceased officer,
when--"whisk!"--up came a cannon-ball and struck me! I was able to say
nothing more at that time; as, when the cannon-ball had passed, I found
it had left me defunct! And I have been dead ever since. My companion
and chum, whose name I must not give without permission, will vouch for
every word I've said.

(_Signed_) A. MUNCHAUSEN,

_Late Lance-Ensign, the Lincoln Longbowers_.

       *       *       *       *       *


Perhaps, the good old rule that, "You should never look a gift-horse in
the mouth," cannot be so rigorously applied to gifts of pictures to the
Nation as to other things. Nevertheless, Mr. TATE'S munificent proffer
of his Collection to the National Gallery, is surely too good a thing to
be missed through matters of mere detail. _Mr. Punch's_ view is--well,
despite _Touchstone's_ attack on "the very false gallop of verses,"
there are two things that come most insinuatingly in metre; offers of
love, and of friendly advice:--

  ENGLISH Art no longer paints
  Those "squint-eyed Byzantine saints"
  Mr. ORROCK so disparages.
  Martyrdoms and Cana Marriages
  Over-stock our great Art Gallery,
  Giving ground for ORROCK'S raillery.
  Scenes in desert dim, or dun stable,
  Than Green English lanes by CONSTABLE
  Are less welcome, or brown rocks
  And grey streams by DAVID COX.
  Saint Sebastian's death? Far sweeter
  Sylvan scenes by honest PETER;
  There's a charm in dear DE WINT
  Cannot be conveyed in print.

  Verdant landscapes, sea-scapes cool,
  Painted by the English School.
  Must be welcome to our British
  Taste, which is not grim or skittish;
  Rather Philistine, it may be.
  Sweet on cornfields and the Baby;
  Yet of ROMNEY'S grace no spurner,
  Or the golden dreams of TURNER.
  Moral? Will a moral, bless us!
  Comes like that old shirt of NESSUS.
  Still, here goes! An Art-official
  Should be genial, but judicial.
  When an Art-Collection's national,
  It is obviously rational
  It should be a bit eclectic,
  Weeding out the crude or hectic.
  He who'd have his country's honour,
  As a liberal Art-donor,
  Thinks more of his country's fame
  Than of _his_ particular name.
  Would you win true reputation
  As benefactor of the Nation.
  Trust me 'tis not "special room"
  Keeps _that_ glory in full bloom.
  _Punch_ is a plain-speaking chap;
  Here's his view of things. _Verb. sap._!

       *       *       *       *       *


PICTURES IN THE HAYMARKET.--"And there stood the 'tater-man, In the
midst of all the wet; A vending of his taters in the lonely Haymarket."
So sang one of the greatest of _Mr. Punch's_ singers, years agone. If he
had sung in the present day, he would have substituted pictures for
'taters; for surely this pleasant thorough-fare has become a mart for
pictures and players rather than potatoes. Look in at TOOTH'S Gallery,
and you will stay a long while, indeed you will age considerably, and
may be said to be "long in the TOOTH," before you come out, as you will
find the exhibition so paletteable. Then having refreshed your eye with
the spring sunshine--if there happens to be any about--you will turn
into MCLEAN'S _salon_ and see a marvellous picture of Jaffa, by G.
BAUERNFEIND, and other works by English and foreign painters. The County
Council will have to change the title of this street into the A-market,
"A" standing for Art, of course.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: A Fancy Portrait of my Laundress, judging by her

       *       *       *       *       *


  When this old hat was new,
    ('Tis not so many years,)
  My followers did not view
    My course with doubts and fears.
  CHAMBERLAIN then would praise,
    And HENRY JAMES was true;
  Ah! this was in the days
    When this old hat was new.

  When this old hat was new
    My head was smaller--yes!
  Now I'd have much ado
    To get it on, I guess.
  The cause I cannot tell,
    I only know 'tis true;
  My head has seemed to swell
    Since this old hat was new.

  Perhaps, as some maintain,
    My cranium may have grown,
  Owing to stretch of brain,
    Or thickening of bone.
  "The hat has shrunk?" Eh? What?
    _That_ nonsense will not do!
  My head _has_ grown, a lot,
    Since this old hat was new.

  What TYNDALL dares to call,
    In wrath, my "traitorous" head,
  Is "growing still," that's all;
    (Of "MARIAN" this was said)
  My cranial vertex flat?
    Pah! Tories may pooh-pooh;
  I wore a smaller hat
    When this old hat was new!

       *       *       *       *       *

THE NEW BISHOP OF DURHAM.--WESTCOTT and,--no, Bishops don't wear
them--so His Reverend Lordship will be known as "WESTCOTT and Apron."

       *       *       *       *       *


(_A Fragment, some way after Addison, picked up in the neighbourhood of
the Athenæum Club._)

  What though in solemn silence all
  Drop in the dark the fatal ball?
  What though no overt voice or sound
  Amidst the voting throng be found?
  In reason's ear they speak of choice,
  And utter forth a boding voice,
  Saying, as silent they recline,
  "Your company we must decline!"

       *       *       *       *       *

PIPING TIMES FOR THE EMPIRE.--The bagpipes were not heard playing, "_The
Campbells are Coming_," at the relief of Lucknow. Why? Because the
regiment hadn't got any. The regimental bagpipes were first introduced
by Mr. BOUCICAULT, in his drama of _The Relief of Lucknow_ (that was the
subject, whatever the name might have been) at Astley's. Miss AMY
ROSELLE'S recitation of the thrilling story specially written for her by
Mr. SAVILE CLARKE is most dramatic, and thrills the audience at the
Empire. The journalistic discussion, as to the pipes, comes in very
appropriately, and will assist to raise the wind and pay the piper. This
recitation, is a great "Relief" to the ordinary Music-hall
entertainments, and the Empire has "Luck now."

       *       *       *       *       *


  PENTHESILEA straddling on the pigskin?
    Surely a male biped need not dwell
  In a prejudiced pedantic prig's skin,
    Not to like that prospect passing well.
  CARLYLE, who scoffed at Man, had deemed it caddish
  To picture _Woman_ as "a mere forked radish."

  Dear Diana after hounds a riding
    Like--a clothes-peg on a clothes-line? Nay!
  Rub out all unnatural laws dividing
    Sex from sex,--'tis the World's drift to-day.
  Let ladies mount the 'bus, or Hansom Cab it,
  But let not custom new banish old Habit.

  Paint, write poems, pose as prandial wit, Ma'am,
    Perorate upon the public platform;
  Even in the County Council sit, Ma'am,
    If Law lets you, and your taste takes that form;
  But take _Punch's_ tip, and do not straddle;
  Stick to common-sense and the side-saddle.

       *       *       *       *       *

Lines on the Labour Conference.


  The youthful German Emperor may try
    By Socialistic plans to prop his rule.
  Some think 'twill all result in a great cry,
    And little (Berlin) wool.
  Still, all good souls will wish young WILLIAM luck.
    The Teutons may not relish Swiss suggestion,
  But anyhow it shows the Emperor's pluck
    In handling _Berne_-ing questions.

       *       *       *       *       *

_Q._ Shall Privates in uniform be admitted to the stalls and boxes in
theatres? _A._ Certainly, if covered with "Orders." Private Boxes
henceforth will be Boxes for Privates.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: WEATHER STUDIES.


       *       *       *       *       *


_Mr. Punch loquitur:--_

  "Begone brave army, don't kick up a row!"--
    GRANDOLPHO mine, it were sheer superfluity
  For you to _bid_ your forces scatter _now_.
    The troopers two, of curious incongruity,
  With the long drummer, and the fifer short,
    That formed the old stage-army were more numerous
  Than is your following. You have given us sport
    In many scenes, but this is hardly humorous.

  The general of ARTAXOMINOUS
    Was far less terrible than--well, thrasonic.
  To tear a thing to tatters, shout and "cuss,"
    In an assembly callous and sardonic,
  Savours a bit too much of sheer burlesque,
    Scarce to the level of fine acting rises.
  The unexpected's piquant, picturesque,
    But a sound drama is not _all_ surprises.

  Thought you had taken to the "Temperance" line,
    This looks much more like angry inebriety.
  A little freakishness is vastly fine,
    But even of surprise there comes satiety.
  If you and FUSBOS JENNINGS can't agree,
    There seems small prospect of a growing Party,
  _Verb. sap._ They thought BOMBASTES dead, you see.
    But the _finale_ found him up, and hearty!

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: "GRANDOLPHO FURIOSO!"

OUT OF IT.--The Amazons who doff the skirt, and don the, the--other
things, can never be considered in Rotten Row as "_habituées_."

       *       *       *       *       *


    "My only desire is to meet you on the terms on which long ago we
    stood when you gallantly offered to take me up the
    Matterhorn."--_Mr. Gladstone's Letter to Professor Tyndall._

Mr. GLADSTONE _and_ Professor TYNDALL _discovered seated on the edge of
a Crevasse_.

_Mr. Gladstone._ I didn't know a glacier was so frightfully slippery.

_Prof. Tyndall._ Slippery--ha! Like _some_ politicians I might mention!

_Mr. Gladstone._ That last avalanche, too, bowled us over so neatly that
I feel distinctly limp.

_Prof. Tyndall (severely)._ You should try and avoid this "subserviency
to outside influences." I always do.

_Mr. Gladstone (ignoring the remark)._ What range is that over there?

_Prof. Tyndall._ The Pennine Alps, stoopid! From their name they would
seem a suitable residence for a person who scribbles twaddle in
Magazines--ahem! No personal allusion, of course.

_Mr. Gladstone (gaily)._ Of course not! But isn't it rather dangerous
sitting here, with that bank of snow just above us? Suppose it came down
on us!

_Prof. Tyndall._ As the Judges came down on your Parnellite allies, eh?
Perhaps, as we're getting to some nasty places, we might be tied
together now.

_Mr. Gladstone (warmly)._ Quite so. A union of hearts, in fact.

[_After a few hours' more climbing, they reach the summit of the

_Prof. Tyndall._ Sorry to leave you, but you see I only promised to take
you up, not to see you safe down again. Ta, ta! I may as well mention
that I consider you a "ubiquitous blast-furn----"

[_Disappears suddenly over the edge._

_Mr. Gladstone._ Dear me! what dreadful language! And he appears to have
cut the rope! He must be a Separatist, after all! If it were PITT, now,
I should call his conduct rather "base and blackguardly." Perhaps I
shall meet the "Professor at the Tea-Table"--at Zermatt!

[_Descends cautiously._

       *       *       *       *       *


    "Lord ESHER is greatly concerned about the probable condition of a
    burglar's back after a couple of floggings."--_Times._

AIR--"_Those Evening Bells._"

  The burglar's back, the burglar's back!
  'Twill soon be rash a crib to crack.
  BILL SIKES will sigh for happier times,
  When "cats" were not the meed of crimes.

  The burglar's back! Lord ESHER pales
  When thinking of its crimson wales.
  His feelings will not stand the strain,
  Of dwelling on the ruffian's pain.

  The brute may "bash," the scoundrel shoot,
  Hack with his knife, "purr" with his boot;
  But though he "bash," or "purr," or hack,
  You must not touch the burglar's back.

  No, let the brutal burglar burgle;
  Whilst sentiment will calmly gurgle
  Bland platitudes, but not attack
  That sacred thing, the burglar's back!

[Footnote: 1 "_The Burglar's Back_"--Is he? then the sooner he's caught
and sent to penal servitude the better.--ED.]

       *       *       *       *       *


_Or, The Difference between Goode and Baird._

  What a sweet little supper!--two fire-eating "pros.,"
    And a person "of no occupation,"
  Who got both his eyes blacked and was cut on the nose,
    Though "there wasn't the least provocation."
  And they cursed and they throttled, they gouged, and they swore,
  And they battered and bled, and they tumbled and tore,
  And they fetched the police, and they rolled down the stair,
  Did these blue-blooded dwellers in merry Mayfair.

[Illustration: Chancery Practice.]

Mr. ARTHUR COCKBURN will probably not want to see Mr. BAIRD in bed
again, the penalty being two black eyes (no relation to the two that
were lovely), and a cut nose. What's the good of being called GOODE if
you are going to get your eyes gouged out, and be beaten on the head
with a poker, and, in fact worsted all round? But there, if one
gentleman is "slightly intoxicated," while another is "undoubtedly
drunk," and a third is "slightly mixed," there's no knowing what may
happen. Did GOODE "keep his hair on" when he got hit on the head with a
poker? What a beautiful picture of genuine Mayfair manners it is! The
case is still _sub (Punch and) judice_, and Mr. Justice _Punch_ reserves
his decision.

       *       *       *       *       *


_Cassell's Cabinet Portrait Gallery._ In Number One are met together the
Duke and Duchess of FIFE, SARAH BERNHARDT as _Theodora_, and the
Archbishop of CANTERBURY, the last very properly looking another way. In
Vol. II. there is rather a nice one of Mrs. STIRLING and MARY ANDERSON,
but the photographer ought to have been more careful about the little
finger of MARY'S right hand. In Vol. III., JAMES PAYN, reading a
manuscript, with his spectacles up on his forehead, is very good. The
picture of H.R.H. the Prince, in uniform, is too dark, and his
expression is severe. Charming and clever Miss MAUD MILLETT is in Part
IV., followed by the Duke of WESTMINSTER and Mr. LEWIS MORRIS, the Poet
looking so awe-struck, that he must have been taken by surprise, and
been "struck like it." Miss ANNA WILLIAMS leads off No. V., and, to
express it musically, she is accompanied by the Duke of CONNAUGHT. Sir
JAMES LINTON appears for the Water-colourists. In Part VI. the face of
Mr. FRANK LOCKWOOD, Q.C., M.P., is full of light and shade, more light
than shade, fortunately, and it is a really good likeness. The Duchess
of LEINSTER looks lovely, and Sig. PIATTI uncommonly wise as he guards
his 'cello.

Neatly and concisely done is Mr. BESANT'S _Captain Cook_, published in
the MACMILLAN Series of _English Men of Action_. He discovered the
Society Islands, whence, of course, are obtained our present supply of
Society Papers. The natives of these Society Islands made great use of
their Clubs, some of which proved fatal to Captain COOK and his men.

Captain COOK, had he been alive now, would have been among the first to
appreciate _The Pocket Atlas_, in which the names of the chief places
are clear enough for all practical purposes. There are seventy-two maps,
and the publisher bears the honoured name of WALKER, though the map is
not specially intended for the use of pedestrians.

MACMILLAN & CO.'S cheap edition of CHARLES KINGSLEY'S works is
deservedly popular; easy to carry, good clean type, so that those who
ride may read. _Two Years Ago_ is just out. By the way, the same firm's
CHARLOTTE YONGE and the other KINGSLEY Series, make a noble show in a
library, on our "noble shelves." "MAC & CO."--_i.e._, the "Two
MACS"--are to be congratulated; and, that being so, the Baron hereby and
herewith congratulates them.


       *       *       *       *       *

MR. G'S. HEAD.--A "DUKE" writing to the _St. James's Gazette_ last
Thursday, joined in the discussion about Mr. GLADSTONE'S head, and
observed that hats shrink, and that certain hatters, exceptionally sane,
whose evidence can be trusted, allowed for the decrease in size. But do
they allow for this in the bills? Is the decrease there proportionate?
Considering what Mr. GLADSTONE once was, a Tory of the Tories, and what
he is now, is it to be wondered at that a considerable change should
have been going on in Mr. GLADSTONE'S head? Why he is finishing poles
apart from where he commenced!

       *       *       *       *       *

THE King of the National Picture Donors is henceforth "the Potent TATE."

       *       *       *       *       *


(_Which will be found useful in explaining certain Conventional Forms of
Expression. Compiled by Professor Von Hombugh._)


"_The Police have a clue._" _Meaning_--"The Police know nothing about
it, and are doing all they know."

"_An exceptionally experienced Detective has charge of the case, and is
actively engaged in investigating all matters concerning it_;" _i.e._,
"A promoted constable in plain clothes is loafing about the neighbouring
public-houses, and standing drinks, generally without the exercise of
much discrimination, to unlikely people."

"_A young Woman of prepossessing appearance_;" _i.e._, "A rather showy

"_The Police are, however, very reticent about the whole affair_;"
_i.e._, "When ignorance is rife, 'tis folly to give tongue."

"_It is believed that the most important discoveries will result from
the investigations now in progress_;" _i.e._, "Nothing is known as to
whether anything is being done: but it finishes off the paragraph, and
sounds well."

"_I am assured on the best authority, that there is no truth in the
rumour that H.S.H. the Prince of Katzendlenbogen has been laid up with
chicken-pox_;" _i.e._, "As there's no news, I may as well invent some,
for the sake of contradicting it."

"_As everybody knows_;" _i.e._, "I have a certain space to fill, and
nothing new to say, so I'll tell an ancient story, or bring in
MACAULAY'S New Zealander."

"_As all the world knows_," "except myself (the writer), who has met
with the information for the first time in a most valuable book of

"_We regret to hear that, &c._;" _i.e._, "Our sorrow is tempered by the
fact that we are utter strangers to the individual in question, and that
his or her affliction provides us with a certain amount of 'copy.'"

"_The hall was tastefully decorated_;" _i.e._, "two hired flags and an
evergreen hoop."

       *       *       *       *       *


"_How are you? Haven't seen you for an age!_" _i.e._, "Didn't expect to
see you, and didn't want to."

"_Not at Home_;" _i.e._, "Doesn't she know that I've got a 'day?' Not
that I want to see her even _then_!"

"_Of course I should have known it anywhere. I think you've caught the
likeness most wonderfully!_" _i.e._, "Why the deuce doesn't he tell one
whom it's meant for?"

"_Small and early_;" _i.e._, "No supper, and something which will count
as 'a party,' at the least possible cost and trouble."


"_The Management regrets that, owing to previous arrangements, the piece
must be withdrawn in the height of its popularity_;" _i.e._, "Not
drawing a shilling, company fearfully expensive, sooner we shut up the

"_House full! Money turned away nightly_;" _i.e._, Crammed with paper,
two persons who wanted to pay for pit were refused admission by way of

"_The new Play will probably be produced during the Summer at a West End
Theatre_;" _i.e._, "The author has had his comedy returned by every
Manager in London, with the remark, that 'although excellent, it is
scarcely suited to his present company.'"


"_It would ill become me, after the able and eloquent speech of your
Chairman_;" _i.e._, "What on earth is the name of that retired
cheesemonger who talked rubbish, and mispronounced my name?"

"_When I look at this splendid meeting_;" _i.e._, "I wonder why those
back benches are empty. Some bungling on the part of the Secretary, as

"_I shall have to return to this subject later on_;" _i.e._, "Can't
remember anything more at present."

"_If we all work shoulder to shoulder_;" _i.e._, "Must say 'shoulder to
shoulder,' or 'shoulders to the wheel,' or, 'leave no stone unturned,'
in every speech."


"_Well, I don't care if I do!_" _i.e._, "Haven't had a drink for half an
hour--waiting for you to stand treat this ten minutes past."

"_Ah! he's a Gentleman, he is, every hinch of him!_" _i.e._, He has
"parted" freely, or "tipped" liberally.

"_He's about as stingy as they make 'em_;" _i.e._, He has declined to be
abominally overcharged.

"_Could you tell me wot's about the right time, Guv'nor?_" _i.e._,
"Isn't it about time to send me up some more beer?"


"_A Lady is desirous of recommending_;" _i.e._, "Getting rid of."

"_The Property of a Gentleman going abroad_;" _i.e._, "Mr. BROOKS (of

"_Owner's sole Reason for parting with him is_"--_i.e._, "The one he
omits to mention." (_To be continued._)

       *       *       *       *       *


       *       *       *       *       *


In aid of The Actor's Benevolent Fund, the Irving Amateur Dramatic Club
are going to give a performance of _Henry IV. (Part I.)_, at the Lyceum
Theatre, Saturday afternoon, March 29, when in consequence of H.R.H. The
Princess of WALES having accorded her gracious patronage, the Welsh song
will be sung by Miss ELEANOR REES on the stage, as _Lady Mortimer_,
which will be a melodious illustration of rhyme and REES-on. The
Amateurs appearing for the Actors is as it should be. The President of
the Club is HENRY, not the Fourth, but the First, yclept HENRY IRVING,
and the Vice, with numberless virtues, is Mr. JUSTIN MCCARTHY, M.P.,
whom if it be JUSTIN Pater (not JUSTIN MARTYR), we should like to have
seen in spectacles in the Tavern Scene, as _Francis_ the Drawer,--a
drawer would have been an immense attraction. If JUSTIN Junior could
play the other Drawer, the attraction would be doubled. "Sure such a
pair!" But we must not jest in too Shakspearian a manner. We hope the
Actors' Benevolent will benefit largely by the acting of the Benevolent
Amateurs. Let the Benevolent Public too go and see _Henry IV. (Part
1st)_, and let them "part first."

       *       *       *       *       *

NOTE (_by One who doesn't pretend to know French_). The Tirard Cabinet
couldn't go on, because it was too Tirard!!

       *       *       *       *       *




SICK!" [_Exeunt, to play Poker._]]

       *       *       *       *       *


  Ride-a-cock horse
  To Banbury Cross,
  To see a young Lady
  A-straddle, o'course.
    If the new notion
      Very far goes,
    What she'll do next
      Nobody knows.

       *       *       *       *       *

SPECTACULAR.--How is it that among the guests at the Livery
Dinner--(ugh! horrid expression! Yet I dare say the dinner wasn't more
livery than any other City banquet)--of the Spectacle Makers' Company,
were not to be found AUGUSTUS DRURIOLANUS, quite the best spectacle
maker in London, and that from among the list of toasts as reported,
Art, Literature, and the Drama were omitted? Through what spectacles do
the Spectacle Makers see?

       *       *       *       *       *

had been the practice in 1228 there would have been no remains of
STEPHEN LANGTON to-day. Without the remains of the Archbishop, is it
likely that the treasures, historically so valuable, would have been
permitted to come down to us?

       *       *       *       *       *

MR. C. M. WOODFORD has just brought out a book entitled _A Naturalist
among the Head Hunters_. Ahem! It doesn't sound nice. Is it procurable
at every hairdresser's?

       *       *       *       *       *


       *       *       *       *       *



_House of Commons, May 9._--This has been great occasion for Windbag
SEXTON. Excelled himself, and there is no other point of comparison
useful or usable. SAUNDERSON, who always takes friendly views of his
countrymen opposite, pleads that SEXTON'S windbaggism is partly due to
his birth. In Ireland, he assures me, a mile is longer than in other
parts of the Empire; and so, kind-hearted Colonel pleads, some allowance
should be made for SEXTON when he gets on the oratorical tramp. That's
all very well; but, for a man to talk two hours and three-quarters in a
so-called Debate, is even more than the national tendency towards
exaggeration illustrated by the Irish mile will excuse. Why couldn't
SEXTON have windbagged on some day of last week? Suppose, for example,
his self-sacrificing friends had made a House for him at a quarter to
nine on Friday night, and he had then talked for three hours and a
quarter?--or on Wednesday there was opportunity; whilst openings might
have been made on Tuesday or Thursday.

"No, TOBY," said SEXTON, when I suggested this in interests of House and
public time, "you're a well-meaning fellow, but you don't understand
everything. You see in debate of this kind all principal men stand off
till the last day. We might have twinkled on several days of last week,
but we prefer to coruscate on last night. Sure of an audience; Whips
out; crowds in; excitement everywhere. I and HARCOURT, and CHAMBERLAIN,
and BALFOUR, all save ourselves for the last night. Can't all speak,
perhaps, especially if I get on first: but they must take their chance.
With the Universe waiting and listening for me, other things and other
people must stand aside. Very serious thing to disappoint the Universe."

So SEXTON, rising at five o'clock, with the windbag conveniently
disposed under arm, pumped and pumped away for two mortal hours, and an
odd three-quarters that seemed more than mortal. GRANDOLPH waiting to
make a speech; ARTHUR BALFOUR longing to be at 'em. Members knowing what
was in store, "expecting," as SHEEHY said, that "every moment would be
his next." But SEXTON flowed on for ever, with aggravating pauses, with
a smile of sublime, unruffled satisfaction, that made the position ten
times as aggravating as it otherwise would have been. To smile and
smile, and play such a villanous trick as this on a suffering House was
worse than most disordered fancy painted.

"If," said ARTHUR BALFOUR, in one of his agonised asides, "the fellow
did not undisguisedly enjoy such supreme happiness, our lot would be
more bearable."

"Never mind," said OLD MORALITY. "Bad enough, I admit. But do you know
why persons are sometimes killed by having a charcoal fire in their
bedrooms? Because the carbon of burning charcoal unites with the oxygen
of air, and forms carbonic acid gas, which is a narcotic poison. So it
is here. SEXTON has got hold of some good points; he is not inapt as a
speaker; if his inordinate vanity had only permitted him to be satisfied
with occupying time of House for half an hour, or, say, three-quarters,
he would have made damaging speech; as it is, he wearies House to death,
swamps us all and himself in waste of verbiage, and the people he
attacks escape in the general misery. In other words, his carbon of
burning vanity, uniting with the oxygen of opportunity, forms a speech
two hours and three-quarters long; which is a narcotic poison."

Mr. G., with the ardour of youth, and the training of an athlete,
proposed to himself to hear what SEXTON had to say. Accordingly took up
convenient seat below Gangway. Stayed there an hour. Then walked back an
altered man; shattered; aged; almost in a state of coma.

"Well, you ought to have known better," I said, somewhat sharply, having
no sympathies with these vagaries.

"And I was so well and strong when I entered the House," Mr. G. said,
wearily. "Quite elate with my correspondence with TYNDALL. Didn't you
think that a nice turn in the concluding sentence?--'My only desire is
to meet you on the terms on which, long ago, we stood when, under my
roof, you gallantly offered to take me up the Matterhorn, _and
guaranteed my safe return_! Wouldn't trust myself on the Matterhorn with
TYNDALL now;" and Mr. G., warily shaking his head, walked forth in
search of rest and refreshment.

_Business done._--Mr. G.'s Amendment to OLD MORALITY'S Resolution on
Parnell Commission Report negatived by 339 votes against 268.

_Tuesday._--This has been GRANDOLPH'S night. Broke the silence of the
still young Session with memorable speech; been in diligent attendance
on Debate; sat through interminable speeches with patience only excelled
by Mr. G.; sometimes looked as if were about to deliver his soul; but
succeeded in bottling it up. To-night soul drove out the cork; burst
the bottle, so to speak.

GRANDOLPH a man of many phases. Tonight presented himself in his highest
character; a statesman; a champion of constitutional principles at
whatever expense to prospects and sensibilities of his most revered
friends on Treasury Bench and elsewhere. Quite a new style of speech for
GRANDOLPH, testifying to remarkable range of his genius. Nothing
personal: free from acrimony; inspired with profound, unfeigned,
reverence for constitutional principles. Here and there a touch of
pathos as he recalled former times when, as DIZZY said of PEEL on a
famous occasion, "they had been so proud to follow one who had been so
proud to lead them."

[Illustration: The Reverberating Colomb.]

Awful splutter in Ministerial circles. A gleam of delight flashed
through the shadow when it was discovered that JENNINGS had rebelled
against RANDOLPH'S new revolt. "Ha! ha!" said the REVERBERATING COLOMB,
after JENNINGS had made his speech, "the army has dismissed its

This all very well; not here concerned with GRANDOLPH'S relations with
his Party or his faithful friend; merely note that the speech itself
lifts GRANDOLPH once more into the very front rank of political
personages. The Liberal Party cannot ignore nor the Conservatives
dispense with the man who made that speech.

JOKIM not a particular friend of GRANDOLPH'S. "Leg quite on other boot,"
as SHEEHY says. But he did the enemy a service to-night. To complete
GRANDOLPH'S triumph it only required that some Member of the Ministry
whose ineptitude he had demonstrated should rise and, with loud voice,
ungainly gestures, drag the Debate down from the heights to which it had
been lifted, debasing it by personal attacks hoarsely shrieked across
the table at former friends and colleagues. JOKIM did this amidst
uproarious cheers from JOHNSTON of Ballykilbeg, who began to think that,
after all, there is something in the Right Hon. Gentleman.

_Business done._--OLD MORALITY'S Motion carried.

_Wednesday._--Attempt by some noisy outsiders who know nothing of House
to make things unpleasant for AKERS-DOUGLAS, because House Counted Out
last Friday. Said he has been wigged; assume he will retire. All arrant
nonsense. Everybody in House, Conservative, Liberal, Dissentient, Irish,
whatever we be, all know AKERS-DOUGLAS as one of best Whips of present
generation. Assiduous, persuasive, courteous, yet firm; always at his
post, never fussy, never cross, apparently never tired, he is a model of
a Whip. His Party could better spare an occasional Secretary of State.

[Illustration: Our Whip (at present without a Handle to his Name).]

For purely business arrangements Ministers have a unique combination of
three men. OLD MORALITY, as Leader of House; AKERS-DOUGLAS, as Whip; and
JACKSON, as Financial Secretary, are strong enough to balance effects of
any reasonable amount of blundering in high politics. They take care of
the pence of efficiency and popularity, and leave the MARKISS an
occasional pound to spend.

_Business Done._--New Irish Land Bill brought in, and cast out.

_Thursday._--TEYNHAM on in the Lords, but what he's on about the Lords
only know, and not all of them. Something to do with Camperdown;
GRANVILLE not entirely out of it; and the MARKISS at least compromised.
TEYNHAM, standing at Cross Benches, holding on to the rail of Bench
before him, as if he were in pulpit, swings about his body, turns to
right and left, sometimes presenting his back to LORD CHANCELLOR, whilst
he contemplates emptiness of Strangers' Galleries. In plaintive voice,
full of tears, he babbles o' Camperdown, green fields, _nemine
contradicente_, and Standing Order No. XXI.

Pretty to watch HOBHOUSE whilst TEYNHAM on his legs. Sits intently
listening; first crossed one knee, then the other; puts his two
forefingers together as if connecting the matter of TEYNHAM'S speech;
gradually, as muddle grows thicker, two locks of hair on top of his head
slowly rise and remained standing, as it were, till TEYNHAM reseated
himself. Most remarkable testimony to mental struggle. Even HOBHOUSE,
having thus given his mind to it, couldn't make out what TEYNHAM was at.
As for DENMAN he, after first ten minutes of speech, flouted out of

[Illustration: A Mental Struggle.]

"TOBY," said he, passing me in the Lobby; "if this is what the House of
Lords is coming to, I shall vote with ROSEBERY for its immediate reform.
Don't like to say anything disrespectful of a Peer; but I must observe
that TEYNHAM is a little lacking in coherency. His observations fail in
point; in short, if he were not a Peer I should say his mind was
wandering. Whatever we do, TOBY, let us be intelligent _and_
intelligible. I trust I am not prejudiced, but I really can't stand

_Business done._--In Commons, Government defeated, in resisting HAMLEY'S
proposal to stump up for Volunteers.

_Friday Night._--TREVELYAN brought forward Motion proposing that
Parliament shall rise at beginning of July, making up necessary time in
winter months. Supported proposition in speech graceful and strong, a
model of rare combination of literary art, with Parliamentary aptitude.
After brisk debate, resolution negatived by 173 votes against 169. "A
majority of four won't long stand in our way," said CHARLES FORSTER, who
having, some Sessions ago, fortuitously found his hat, never now deserts

[Illustration: Sir William Burning.

(_See the Chancellor of the Exchequer's Speech, March 11th._)]

_Business done._--Government vainly tried to get into Committee of

       *       *       *       *       *

THE DIFFERENCE.--Sir GEORGE TREVELYAN wants the House of Commons to
"rise at the beginning of July." _Mr. Punch_ wishes it to rise at all
times--above rowdyism.

       *       *       *       *       *

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

       *       *       *       *       *

*** End of this Doctrine Publishing Corporation Digital Book "Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 98, March 22, 1890" ***

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