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Title: Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 98, May 17, 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, May 17, 1890." ***

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  VOLUME 98.

  MAY 17, 1890.

       *       *       *       *       *


MY DEAR EDITOR,--Whilst you were feasting in Burlington House amongst
the Pictures and the Royal Academicians, I was seated in the Stalls of
the St. James's Theatre, lost in astonishment (certainly not in
admiration, although of old the two words had the same meaning), at the
antics of a minority of the Gallery, who amused themselves by shouting
themselves hoarse before the performances commenced; but not satisfied
with this, they continued their shrieking further: they howled at the
overture of the first piece, they jeered at the scene, they yelled at
the actors. However, as it happened, _The Tiger_ had been already
successfully played on two occasions last year, so a verdict was not
required at _their_ hands. Had Mr. SOLOMON, the composer, conducted, he
would have taken _The Tiger_ away, and left the howlers to their
howling. Since Saturday the piece has, I am informed, "gone" with what
the Americans call a "snap." The music is charming. Mr. CHARLES COLNAGHI
made his bow as a professional, and played and sang excellently, as did
also Mr. J. G. TAYLOR, in spite of the riotous conduct of the

Then came _Esther Sandraz_. Mrs. LANGTRY looked lovely, and played with
great power; but what an unpleasant part! Until the end of the First Act
all was right. The sympathy was with the heroine of the hour, or,
rather, two hours and a half; but when it was discovered that _Esther_
loved but for revenge, and wished to bring sorrow and shame upon the
fair head of Miss MARION LEA, then the sentiments of the audience
underwent a rapid change. Everyone would have been pleased if Mr. SUGDEN
had shot himself in Act II.; nay, some of us would not have complained
if he had died in Act I., but the cat-and-mouse-like torture inflicted
upon him by _Esther_ was the reverse of agreeable. Mr. SUGDEN was only a
"Johnnie", but still "Johnnies" have feelings like the rest of us. Mr.
BOURCHIER was rather hard as a good young man who does _not_ die, and
Mr. EVERILL (steady old stager) kept everything well together. If the
play keeps the boards for any length of time, it will be, thanks to the
power of Mrs. LANGTRY, the natural pathos of Miss MARION LEA, and the
unforced comedy of Mr. EVERILL.

On Monday Miss GRACE HAWTHORNE produced _Theodora_ at the Princess's
Theatre with some success. It cannot be said, however, that Mlle. SARA
BERNHARDT has at length found her rival, but, for all that, the heroine
of the moment might have been worse. "SARDOU'S masterpiece" (as the
programmes have it) was very well staged. The scenery and costumes were
excellent, and great relief was afforded to the more tragic tones of the
play by entrusting the heavy part of _Andreas_ to Mr. LEONARD BOYNE, who
is a thorough artist, with just the least taste in life of the brogue
that savours more of the Milesian Drama. Mr. W. H. VERNON was the
_Justinian_ of the evening, and looked the Lawgiver to the life;
although I am not quite sure whether a half-concealed moustache was
quite the fashion in the days of the Empire. Mr. ROBERT BUCHANAN, the
adapter of "the masterpiece", introduced several nineteenth century
expressions into the dialogue. In the "home of the Gladiators", it was
quite pleasant to hear people talking of a "row", and made one wish to
have a description of "a merry little mill", in the language of the
sporting Press. No doubt, the length of the performances was the reason
why so racy a narrative was omitted. For the rest, there are some thirty
speaking parts--a good allowance for a play consisting of six Acts and
seven _Tableaux_. A "Masterpiece" (in English) is better than a feast,
for it is enough--for a lifetime. Believe me, yours faithfully,


       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: A CHANGE.

From a Fasting Man to a Sandwich Man. Useful to Advertisers.]

       *       *       *       *       *

A STIRRING POLE.--A more stirring pianist than PADEREWSKI, who played on
Friday afternoon at St. James's Hall for the first time in England, has
never been heard. The report that he is a Polonised Irishman needs
confirmation. The name is suspicious. But there are no sound reasons for
supposing that the first two syllables of PADEREWSKI'S name are simply a
corruption of the Hibernian "Paddy."

       *       *       *       *       *

FALSE BRAND.--"_Nomine mutato fabula narratur de Tea._"

       *       *       *       *       *

MRS. R. wants to know if she can ascertain all about the Law of Libel,
&c., in the works which she contemplates purchasing of WALTER SAVAGE

       *       *       *       *       *


_A New Departure, or the "Give-'em-a-hand-all-round" Wrinkle._

dressed in a READY-MADE SUIT OF TWEED DITTOS (38_s._) supplied by
Messrs. LEVI, SOLOMANS & CO., of 293, Houndsditch, and is

       * * *

SEATED ON THE GENT'S EASY LOUNGE CHAIR, forming one of the articles of
the highly-upholstered dining-room set (as advertised) by Messrs.
GLUBBINS, KNICKERBOCKER & CO., of Tottenham Court Road, where at any
hour he can be seen

       * * *

Messrs. WAGBITTER AND GROANS, of New Oxford Street,

       * * *

pints, bottles included), and

       * * *

SPARKLING SINGULARIS WATER, bottled in nine-gallon flagons by the
Company at their extensive works in the Isle of Dogs, with which, to the
satisfaction of his friends, he succeeds in washing down, in turns,

       * * *

respectable Chemists throughout the United Kingdom, in 1_s._ 9_d._,
3_s._ 9_d._, 13_s._ 3_d._, 27_s._ 6_d._, and 105_s._ Boxes;

       * * *

OF PRIME BOLIVIAN MUTTON delivered daily by the Company's carts, from
their own Refrigerators;

       * * *

Manufactory, Hoxton-on-Sea);

       * * *

Blue-Point Company, Wriggleville, Texas, U.S.A.; and

       * * *

ZWINGERINE, the new marvellous nerve and tone-restoring, and muscle,
bone, and fat-producing agency, EACH TEASPOONFUL OF WHICH contains, in a
highly-concentrated form, three bottles of port wine, soup, fish, cut
off the joint, two _entrées_, sweet, cheese, and celery, as testified to
by a public analyst of standing and repute. Agents, GLUM & CO, Seven

       * * *

THE FASTING CHAMPION continues to receive visitors as above from 6 A.M.
to 11 P.M. daily, and may be inspected, watched, stared at, pinched,
questioned, and examined generally, by his admiring friends, the British
Public, in his private _sanctum_ at the Royal Quartpotarium, till
further notice.

       *       *       *       *       *

IN THE KNOW.--(By Mr. Punch's Own Prophet.)

CARDINAL RICHELIEU once observed to Madame DE ST. GALMIER, that if Kings
could but know the folly of their subjects they would hesitate at
nothing. Mr. JEREMY evidently knows thoroughly how stupendously
cabbage-headed his readers are, for he never hesitates to put forward
the most astounding and muddy-minded theories. For instance, he asks us
this week to believe that _Saladin_ ought to have won the Shropshire
Handicap, because he was known to be a better horse, from two miles up
to fifty, than the four other horses who faced the starter. If this
stuff had been addressed to an audience of moon-calves and mock-turtles
it might have passed muster, but, thank Heaven, we are not _all_ quite
so low as that yet. Let me therefore tell Mr. JEREMY, that when a horse
like _Saladin_, whose back-bone is like the Himalaya mountains, and his
pastern joints like a bottle-nosed whale with a cold in his head, comes
to the post with two stone and a beating to his credit, and four hoofs
about the size of a soup-tureen to his legs, he can never be _expected_
to get the better of slow roarers like _Carmichael_ and _Busby_, to say
nothing of _Whatnot_ and _Pumblechook_. It is well known, of course,
that the latter has been in hard training for a month, and a better
horse at cornbin or bran-mash never stepped. _Saladin_ won, I know, but
it was for reasons very different from those given by Mr. JEREMY.

There is nothing new about the Derby horses. I believe they are mostly
in training, but I reserve my opinion until I see what the addle-pates
who own them mean to do.

       *       *       *       *       *

"A SELF-MADE MAN", said Mrs. R., thoughtfully, "is the artichoke of his
own fortunes."

       *       *       *       *       *


(_Extracts from the Diary of an Explorer in the Society Islands._)]

From the bears, apes, and foxes with which the thickets of the great
forest of Societas abounded, it is but a step to the Pygmy tribes whom
we found inhabiting the tract of country between the Uperten and the
Suburban rivers. The Pygmies are as old as Swelldom, as ubiquitous as
Boredom, the two secular pests of the earth. You will remember that
Hercules once fell asleep in the deserts of Africa, after his conquest
of Antæus, and was disturbed in his well-earned rest by an attack of a
large army of these troublesome Lilliputians, who, it is recorded,
"discharged their arrows with great fury upon his arms and legs." The
hero, it is added, "pleased with their courage, wrapped a great number
of them in the skin of the Nemean lion, and carried them to Eurystheus."

I was not "pleased with their courage", but plagued with their
importunities. HERODOTUS described the capture of five young explorers
from Naasamoves while they were examining some curious trees in the
Niger basin, and tells how the little men took them to their villages
and showed them about to their fellow Pygmies. So, in a sense, the
Pygmies of Societas "captured" me, and showed me about to their fellow
denizens of this Land of Lilliput. They "discharged their arrows" (which
they called "In-Vites", and each of which was branded with the mystic
letters, R.S.V.P.) at me in swarms, and though they rather tickled than
hurt, yet after a time their minute but multiplied prickings became no
end of a nuisance.

Let us pause a little, and pay such honour as is due for persistence and
importunity to these "little people", who have outlived the wise men of
Egypt, the prophets of Palestine, the magicians of Persia, and the sages
of Greece and Rome. They have actually been able to hold their own from
the days of HOMER, through those of HORACE, down even to those of
HAGGARD. I have seen the wear and tear of the Pyramids of Egypt (which
is nothing to that of a lionised hero in Societas); I can certify that
the Sphynx presents a very battered appearance indeed (though not so
battered as mine, after the "little people" had done with me), but the
Pygmies of to-day in Societas appear to be as plentiful and as perky as
those that thousands of years ago swarmed in Æthiopia, built their
houses with egg-shells, made war upon the Cranes, and attacked the tired
hero Hercules.

You will understand that I, who have always professed to love humanity,
even in the form of mannikins, better than beetles and butterflies, was
as much interested in these small creatures as was Hercules in the
skinful of midgets he carried to the exacting Eurystheus. As I looked at
them, and thought how these represented the oldest race on the
globe--namely, the Inquisitive Quidnuncs--my admiration really went to
greater lengths than scoffing cynics might have expected.

These Pygmies of Societas, though small, are cunning, and wise in their
generation. For the most part they toil not, (save at pleasure-seeking
and lion-hunting), neither do they spin (anything beyond the edifying
yarns they call "after-dinner stories"). But they manage to live on the
fat of the land. The larger aborigines (called the Whirkirs) are very
industrious, and form the clearings and cultivate the various produce of
the place. The Pygmies appear to be aware that the plantations and
powers of the Whirkirs are practically inexhaustible, and to think that
they have as much right to the produce as the aboriginal owners and
tillers. Therefore, they cling tightly to these plantations, and make
the larger and more laborious natives pay dearly for the honour of their
acquaintance. In another manner they perform valuable service by setting
fashions, receiving strangers, and assisting in the defence of the
settlements; they also hunt game, and supply the larger natives with
plenty to do in working for and waiting on them. It appeared to me that
the Pygmies were regarded somewhat as parasites (though highly
ornamental ones, like orchids) whose departure would be more welcome--to
the aborigines--than their vicinity. But a race which has survived so
much and so many things is not easily to be got rid of.

Anyhow, _I_ couldn't get rid of them, though sometimes I felt
inclined to imitate Hercules. With their arrows and their unblushing
importunities they had me at advantage, and even as _Gulliver_ became
the victim of the midgets of Lilliput, so did I of the innumerable,
inquisitive, imperturbably impertinent Pygmies of Societas.

       *       *       *       *       *


(_Between the Seventh Team of Australian Cricketers and an English
Eleven, begun at Sheffield Park, on May 8, 1890._)

  A HAZE hung over the Surrey Downs
  In the early morning; but Nature's frowns
  Broke up in smiles as the day advanced.
  And the grey mist cleared and the sunbeams glanced
  On MURDOCH bold, and his merry men.
  When hundreds of optics, and many a pen
  Were on the alert, at Sheffield Park,
  The valiant deeds (between wickets) to mark
  Of the Seventh Australian Cricketing lot.
  Lads of their inches in flesh and bones;
  A sterling Eleven, second to few.
  Whilst "odd men" TRUMBLE and BURN and BOYLE
  "Stood out" of the first big match's toil,
  SHERWIN and SHREWSBURY, stout at need,
  And ATTEWELL with the nerves of steel.
  No need to tell how they met and fought,
  And bowled, and batted, and stumped, and caught;
  But _Mr. Punch_, who has seen all six
  Of the other Elevens before the "sticks",
  And cheered them victors, or vanquished cheered,
  Shoots forth his fist, as the lists are cleared,
  To welcome back to an English wicket
  These champions fresh of Colonial Cricket.
  He will not "butter" you, boys, for _that_ you'll hate.
  Only he must most sincerely congratulate
  His old friend MURDOCH on starting so well.
  Go it, Sir, keep it up, W. L.!
  Here's wishing the lot of you health and pluck,
  Decent weather and level luck.
  And when your last "four" to the boundary flashes,
  Take all good things home with you--saving those "ashes."

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: HAPPY THOUGHT.


       *       *       *       *       *


READ "As Haggards on the Rock" in _Scribner's_ for May. It is a weird
tale, but nothing whatever to do with "HAGGARD" ("RIDER" of that ilk),
which may or may not be an additional attraction, according to the taste
and fancy of the reader. "Never do I see _Scribner's Magazine_", quoth
the Baron, "without wishing to change its name, or start a competitor
under the style and title of '_Scribbler's Magazine_.' If the latter
isn't 'a colourable imitation,' it must be done, and that speedily."

_Woman_, though appearing weekly, comes out peculiarly strong. "A really
entertaining, interesting, and chatty publication", says the Baroness.

One of the best volumes of the Badminton Library series is that on Golf,
recently published, written chiefly by HORACE G. HUTCHINSON, with
capital contributions on the subject from the great ruler of
Home-Rulers, ARTHUR BALFOUR, M.P., and the ubiquitous and universally
gifted MERRY ANDREW LANG, to whom no subject, apparently, presents any
difficulty whatever, he being, like Father O'FLYNN, able to discourse on
Theology or Conchology, or Mythology, and all the other ologies,
including, in this instance, Golfology, with equal skill and profundity
of wisdom. _Nihil tetigit quod non ornavit_, and the scent of the LANG Y
LANG, is over all periodical literature generally. Let not the elderly
intending student of Golf, on opening the book, be deterred by seeing a
chapter headed "_Clubs and Balls_", which may induce him to say, "My
dancing days are over." The illustrations, by Messrs. C. L. SHUTE, T.
HODGE, and H. FIERY FURNISS, are excellent. The vignettes in A. LANG's
paper--especially one happily taken from an "Old Miss-all", where
several players are represented as not making a hit--are both
interesting and amusing. On the whole--on the Golfian Hole--a capital
volume. _Mr. Punch_ drinks to his Grace of BEAUFORT in a cup of

       *       *       *       *       *



_House of Commons, Monday, May 5._--Next year is my Jubilee--mine and
_Mr. Punch's_. Pup and dog, have known House of Commons for nigh fifty
years. Of course not so intimately as within the last eight or nine
years; but ever since I took my seat on piles of bound volumes at feet
of the MASTER, have kept one eye on Parliament.

Never saw a scene to equal what took place to-night. When House met,
good deal of talk about yesterday's Labour Demonstration. Everybody
agreed it was enormous, unprecedented, momentous. The Working Man
demands a day of eight hours' labour, and will see that he gets it.
Still talking about the matter in whispers. Second Heading of Budget
Bill under discussion; SHAW-LEFEVRE on legs, protesting against
increased expenditure on Army and Navy. Undertakes to show it is
absolutely unnecessary. Beginning his demonstration when hand of clock
touched hour of Six. SPEAKER rose with cry of "Order! Order!"
SHAW-LEFEVRE resumed seat; afraid he had, in exuberance of eloquence,
committed some breach of order. Members crowded in to hear what SPEAKER
had to say.

"This House," he said, as soon as silence restored, "will now adjourn.
At least I must withdraw; and unless it can be shown that Deputy-Speaker
has been in bed all day, or otherwise idling his time, you cannot go on.
Under ordinary circumstances, House meeting at Three o'clock, we should
have adjourned sharp at Eleven to-night; but the fact is, my day's work
began at Ten this morning. That is a necessity of my position. With
interval of hasty meals, I have been accustomed to work a maximum of
twelve hours a day, often running up to fourteen. That, however, now
over. Settled by Working Man that Labour Day should not exceed Eight
Hours. We will, therefore, now break up. I daresay some of you Hon.
Gentlemen, engaged at the Bar or in affairs in the City, commenced your
work even earlier than Ten?"

"Sir", said OLD MORALITY, "I do not know whether I am in order in
speaking after the clock has struck Six, and so extending our legal day.
I will, however, promise to be brief. In fact, I rise merely to confirm
your view, Sir, of our position. For my own part, I have been closely
engaged in the business that pertains to performance of my duty to the
QUEEN and Country, since an hour earlier than Ten this morning, and I
think I may say the same for my friends near me on this Bench.
[ASHMEAD-BARTLETT: "Hear, hear!"] We were, as usual, prepared to go
forward with our work, to sit here till whatever hour was necessary to
accomplish it. Without abating one jit or tottle--"

SIR WILLIAM HARCOURT: "The Right Hon. Gentleman probably means one jot
or tittle."

OLD MORALITY: "In accordance with my habit, Sir, I meant what I said. As
I was saying, when perhaps somewhat unnecessarily interrupted by the
Right Hon. Gentleman, I do not abate one tit or jottle of my desire to
perform my duty where duty is doo; but since our friend the Working Man
has declared in favour of a labouring day confined to Eight Hours, we
must needs follow him."

OLD MORALITY packed up his papers; JOKIM locked up red box containing
papers relating to Budget Scheme; HARCOURT rose to continue discussion;
discovered that SPEAKER had gone, and Serjeant-at-Arms removed Mace; so,
at few minutes past Six, got off with plenty of time to enjoy that
recreation, and cultivate those family relations, not less dear to a
Member of Parliament than to the more 'orny 'anded son of toil. Odd at
this early hour to hear cry of Doorkeeper, "Who goes home?"

[Illustration: Bolton bolting.]

"Well", says Member for St. Pancras, "I think _I'll_ be BOLTON." And he
bolted. _Business done._----New Eight Hours' Day arrangement came into
operation. Entirely successful.

_Tuesday._--RITCHIE a mild-mannered man, six feet high, and of genial
temperament. But there are some things he can't stand. One is, to assume
that Government Bill dealing with Local Taxation involves Compensation
for disestablished publicans.

"I must say", he observed, just now, glaring on CALEB WRIGHT, "that I
object to the word Compensation which the Hon. Gentleman has used in his

What Government had done was to propose measure for the extinction of
licences. Of course, a little money would pass. JOKIM, in Budget Scheme,
made provision to enable County Council to buy out publicans. "But to
call such a transaction Compensation is", RITCHIE added, his left eye
twitching in fearsome manner on CALEB WRIGHT, "preposterous."

That being so, House went into Committee on Allotments Bill, and drummed
away till sitting suspended.

At Evening Sitting, BOB REID brought on Motion raising sort of British
Land Question. Wants to empower Town Councils and County Councils in
England and Scotland to acquire, either by agreement or compulsorily,
such land within their district as may be needed for the requirements of
the inhabitants. House naturally shocked to find a Member proposing to
discuss any phase of Land Question apart from Ireland. Interposition of
Great Britain in this connection regarded as impertinence. Compromise
arrived at; agreed to leave out Scotland. On these terms Debate went

[Illustration: The Emphatic Noes.]

CHAPLIN in charge of case for Government. At last, in his natural
position, temporary Leader of the House.

CHAPLIN (_aside_), "Glamis and Thane of Cawdor! the greatest is behind."

How different from ancient days and nights, when he sat below Gangway in
corner seat, that is, when he could get it. Couldn't always; sometimes
presumptuous person forestalled him. Even when there, with notes of
treasured speech in swelling breast pocket, by no means certain he would
find opportunity of convincing House. Others step in, and edge him on
into ignominious dinner hour. Now a Minister of the Crown, with a new
Department created for his control; to-night in charge of Government
business. OLD MORALITY off early, full of restful confidence.

"CHAPLIN'S looking after things", he said, as he made himself
comfortable in his room. "Needn't bother; all will go right. Great thing
for a First Minister to have a man he can thoroughly depend on."

"At least, TOBY", CHAPLIN said, "those were his remarks as reported to
me. I will not deny that they are gratifying."

At the proper time--at his own time--the Minister for Agriculture rose,
and, positively pervading the premises, utterly demolished BOB REID, his
supporters, his arguments, and his resolution.

"CHAPLIN", said JOHN MORLEY, watching him with admiring glance, "always
reminds me of VICTOR HUGO'S description of the _Rev. Ebenezer Caudray_.
You remember him in _Les Travailleurs de la Mer_? Haven't the book with
me, but translation runs something like this:--'He had the gracefulness
of a page, mingled with the dignity of a Bishop.' Never knew that VICTOR
HUGO was personally acquainted with CHAPLIN; but he certainly here hits
off his characteristics in a phrase."

_Business done._--Miscellaneous, and not much.

_Thursday._--"Where do you put the Cow?"

"Was ever man interrupted with such a question in such circumstances?"
asked JESSE COLLINGS, unconsciously quoting _Tristram Shandy's_ father.

Circumstances sufficiently strange to make a man quote STERNE, even if
he'd never read his masterpiece. House in Committee on Budget Bill.
STOREY moved Amendment on Clause 26, dealing with exemption from
Inhabited House Duty of tenement buildings. CHANCELLOR of the EXCHEQUER
taken part in the Debate. CHARLES RUSSELL said a few words. House in
most serious, not to say depressed mood. Subject particularly inviting
for JESSE; always advocated welfare of Working Classes; now seized
opportunity to descant on theme. Detailed with growing warmth
arrangements desirable for perfecting sanitation of houses for Working
Classes; when TANNER, crossing arms and legs, and cocking head on one
side, with provoking appearance of keen interest, suddenly submitted
this problem:--

"Where do you put the Cow?"

Opposition laughed. Ministerialists cried, "Order!" Various courses open
to JESSE. Might have assumed air of interested inquiry. Cow? What Cow?
Why drag in the Cow? Might have slain TANNER with a stony stare, and
left him to drag his untimely quadruped off the ground. But JESSE took
the Cow seriously. Allowed it to get its horns entangled amid thread of
his argument. Glared angrily upon the pachydermatous TANNER, and having
thus played into his hands, loftily declared, "I do not propose to take
any notice of the insult."

"It makes me smile", said SWIFT MACNEILL, walking out for fear GOSCHEN
should hear his smile and clap a penny on his Income-Tax.

A long night for JOKIM, wrestling for his Budget. Ominous gathering on
Front Bench. Mr. G., not seen lately, comes down. To him foregathers
HARCOURT. Assaults on Budget begun from below the Gangway. Proposed to
postpone clauses on which Local Budget Bill will be built up. JOKIM
shakes his head. Mr. G. amazed at his refusal to listen to reasonable
suggestion. HARCOURT rises, meaning to run atilt at JOKIM. Chairman of
Committees puts out his foot, nearly trips him up. HARCOURT turns and
bends on COURTNEY expressive glance. Never much love lost between these
two. Now COURTNEY in official position can snub HARCOURT--and does.
Shall HARCOURT go for him? Shall he take him up in his powerful arms and
tear him to pieces with delighted teeth? A moment's pause, whilst
HARCOURT, towering at table, toying nervously with eyeglass, looks down
on Chairman who has just ruled him out of order. Shall he? Struggles
with his suddenly awakened wrath, gulps it down, turns aside to talk of
something else.

[Illustration: "It makes me smile."]

Not to-night, but some night there will be wigs (especially COURTNEY'S)
on the green.

_Business done._--Budget in Committee.

_Friday._--Met MARKISS walking with weary footsteps from Lords.
Curiously depressed air. "Anything happened at East Bristol?" I asked.
"But you cannot have heard yet."

"No; nothing to do with bye-elections", said the MARKISS, with sob in
his throat. "It's WEMYSS; touched me to the quick; was to have made
speech to-night on Socialistic legislation of last two years. Hadn't
slightest idea what he meant. Came down to-night a little late; found
House up. WEMYSS wouldn't deliver his speech in my absence; thing didn't
come off; so Lords went home. That's what I call personal devotion.
Supposed to be hard cynical man, but you see I have my soft places, and
WEMYSS has touched me."

Not a dry eye between us as the MARKISS moved off.

_Business done._--Pleuro-pneumonia in House of Lords.

       *       *       *       *       *



THE Aunt, the Uncle, and the Cousin (_f._) all desire to go to the top
of the tall hill.--There is no road to the top of the tall hill.----Why
is there no road?--Because they (_on_) do not permit it.----Will they
permit it to-morrow?--No.----Will they permit it in several
(_plusieurs_) days?--Certainly not.----When shall we be able to go to
the top of the tall hill?--When Mr. BRYCE'S Bill (the Measure of Mr.
BRYCE) receives the approval of Parliament.----Is it probable that
Parliament will approve of it the day after to-morrow?--It is not
probable that Parliament will approve of it the day after to-morrow, or
for many years.----I see through the telescope of the neighbour (_m._)
a man at the top of the tall hill. Why is he there?--He is guarding (he
guards) the red deer.----Are the red deer then permitted (do they
permit the red deer) on the top of the tall hill?--Yes.----The Aunt,
the Uncle, and the Cousin (_f._) would like to talk to the beautiful
deer.--But the owners (_Messieurs les Propriétaires_) of the tall hill
would not like it.----Why would the owners not like it?--Because they
desire to shoot the beautiful deer.----Where then may we walk
(_promener_)?--We may walk where we will along the high road (_grand
chemin_).----But the high road is dusty, and from it there is no
view.--It is sad that there should be no view from the high road.----We
came (are come) to Scotland to climb the tall hills. As we cannot climb
the tall hills, we will now leave Scotland. If we now leave Scotland the
hotel-keepers (keepers of hotels) will be sorry.--The keepers of hotels
must speak to the owners of the tall hill.----There are now two men on
the top of the tall hill; I can see them plainly. One has seized the
other by the scruff of the neck (by the neck). Why has the bad man
seized somebody by the scruff of the neck?--The man who has been
seized (whom they have seized) by the scruff of the neck must be a
Tourist.----How has the Tourist done wrong (_faire mal_)?--He has done
wrong because he admires the view.----The Aunt, the Uncle, and the
Cousin (_f._) are now glad that they did not go to the top of the tall

       *       *       *       *       *



It seems rather a high-handed proceeding to deprive the inhabitants of
South Belgravia, Old Chelsea, Pimlico and Battersea, of about half of
their recreation grounds. This certainly has been done to find a site
for the Sodgeries. Whether the Sodgeries will be worth the trouble is
another matter. It may be as well to glance hurriedly at its contents.

Certainly, very hurriedly, when one comes to the Ambulance Department. A
most ghastly show! Lay-figures reclining in the most realistic fashion
on a field of battle, with surgeons and vultures(!) in attendance. If
anything could choke off an intending recruit, it would be this. I
consider the display as inimical to the best interests of the Army.

Then the Battle Gallery? Can anything be less interesting? Here and
there the portrait of a General! But such portraits! One veteran warrior
is actually shown in the act of playing upon a fiddle! As for the
pictures of the victories, there is scarcely anything new worth looking
at. Same good old Inkermann, by Lady BUTLER, as of yore; and the same
good old recollections of Egypt from past Academies. For the rest, the
room contains some comfortable chairs. They are more inviting than the
relics! Then the remainder of the Exhibition! Well, the advertisers have
their share, and the restaurant people are all over the place. There are
some figures sent over by nigger chieftains, and a little armour.
Finally, the grounds are imperfectly illuminated at night with paper
lanterns and the electric light. Plenty of military music for those who
like it, but who does?

The arrangements for the comfort of the Press at the opening ceremony
(when I was present) were unsatisfactory. But this is a detail.


Nothing could have been more judicious than to enclose some of the
grounds of Chelsea Hospital for the holding of that excellent exhibition
known as "The Sodgeries." The inhabitants of South Belgravia, Old
Chelsea, Pimlico, and Battersea must bless the Authorities for their
kindness in selecting a site so close to their doors. That the
Exhibition may be properly appreciated, it may be worth while to glance
hurriedly at its contents. A difficult matter to hurry when one comes to
the Ambulance Department. A most interesting display. Here we have the
battle-field capitally painted, and illustrating how our doctors and
nurses do their good work. If anything could confirm an intending
recruit to take the Queen's Shilling, it would be this _tableau_, so
suggestive of succour to the wounded. I consider the display decidedly
in the best interests of the Army.

Then the Battle Gallery! Can anything be more interesting? Numerous
portraits of Generals--not only in full uniform, but as they are to be
seen at home in the bosoms of their families. Every picture of a victory
is full of interest, and the relics are priceless. One case contains the
identical cloak worn by the great Duke at Waterloo, and another the
celebrated panorama of his funeral. The latter, I fancy, was drawn by
that well-known artist, who signs himself, when he drops into
literature, "G. A. S." If I am right in my conjecture, I may add that I
believe all the numberless figures in the admirable composition are
wearing Wellington boots. For the rest, the room contains comfortable
chairs, but who cares for chairs when such relics are on view!

Then the remainder of the Exhibition! It would take pages to catalogue
its hundreds of interesting exhibits. Arms, figures, manufactures,
musical instruments. What not? And the grounds! At night a perfect
fairy-land, beautifully illuminated with hundreds of gleaming lanterns,
and the electric light. Finally the best military music in the world,
for those who like it, and who does not?

The arrangements for the comfort of the Press at the opening ceremony
(when I was present) were satisfactory to the last degree. But this is a

       *       *       *       *       *



       *       *       *       *       *


_Nurse R-tch-e loquitur_:--

  WHICH no doubt at the best it's a bothersome babe; though my bounden
    duty it were to make much of it;
  I'm free to say, if I had my way, it's the dickens a bit I should come
    within touch of it.
  'Tis a greedy child, and a noisy too, of a colicky turn, and pertikler
  And, wherever the blessed infant's found, you may bet your boots
    there'll be stir and shindy.

  The family is a rucktious one from their cradles up, and the plague of
  You may cosset and cordial 'em up as you will; though you calls 'em
    "blessings", you finds 'em cusses.
  Many a monthly they've worritted out of her life, almost, with their
    fractious snarlings,
  Though it's most as much as your place is worth to aggerawate 'em--the
    little darlings!

  And this one--well, it would raise a yell you might fancy came from a
    fog-horn's throttle,
  If it wasn't for that there soothing-syrup I've artfully smuggled into
    its bottle.
  It's strongish stuff, and I've dropped enough in the Babby's gruel to
    prove a fixer;
  For this kid's riot you cannot quiet with LAWSON'S Cordial or CAINE'S

  Them parties think they can mix a drink as'll take the shine out o'
  But they're both mistook, _they_ don't know their book, though one is
    "genial", and t'other chaffy.
  They'll raise a row when they find out how I have managed to silence
    the child, by drugging.
  Wot's the use of fuss? Where's the monthly nuss as can manage without
    a bit of 'umbugging!

  And now, havin' fixed the hinfant up, I'm a going to drop him in
    somebody's doorway.
  Hullo! Here's the house of that County Council! I fancies now it is
    rather in _your_ way!
  You're up to everythink, you swells are, from "Betterment" to the
    claims of Cabby.
  You've a lot to learn; so jest have a turn--as I hope you'll like--at
    this Blessed Babby!

  It "turns up on a doorstep unbeknown", like the child referred to by
    DICKENS'S _Sairey_.
  Come! Here's the Babby, and there's the Bottle! I'm no monopolist--quite
  Without its Bottle I couldn't leave it; the babe might 'unger, wich
    Evins forbid of it!
  But, havin' purvided for it so nicely, I'll shunt it on you,
    gents,--(_aside_)--_and glad to get rid of it!_

       *       *       *       *       *

"ALLOWED TO STARVE."--The Editor begs to acknowledge remittance from
"Miss G. D." and "W. M.", in aid of the Balaclava Survivors, which he
has handed to the Editor of the _St. James's Gazette_, who is in charge
of this Fund.

       *       *       *       *       *


  "As sure as a gun" is a worthy old phrase
  That doesn't quite seem to apply in our days;
  And that man is a cynic, or talking in fun,
  Who says he's "as sure as an 'African' gun."
  The Birmingham gun-makers loudly protest
  That their products are good, if they're not quite the best.
  _Mr. Punch_ with the Brummagem boys will not quarrel,
  But all guns should be trustworthy, stock, lock and barrel;
  Be the game one is after an Arab or pheasant,
  The chance of a barrel that bursts is not pleasant.
  Good work brings good pay, as it always has done;
  That (in the old sense) is "as sure as a gun!"

       *       *       *       *       *

MRS. R. has been uncommonly humorous lately. She observed, "What a
foolish remark it was of Dr. JOHNSON'S to say that 'who makes a pen
would pick a pocket.'" "Unless", she added, struck with a brilliant idea,
"he was thinking of 'steel pens.' But I don't think there were any in
his time."

[Illustration: "BABY BUNG."


       *       *       *       *       *



       *       *       *       *       *




_A crowd is staring stolidly at the gorgeously gilded and painted
entrance, with an affectation of superior wisdom to that of the
weaker-minded, who sneak apologetically up the steps from time to time.
A tall-hatted orchestra have just finished a tune, and hung their brazen
instruments up like joints on the hooks above them._

_A Woman carrying an infant (to her husband)._ Will 'ee goo in, JOE?

_Joe (who is secretly burning to see the Show)._ Naw. Sin it arl afoor
arfen enough. Th' outside's th' best on it, I reckon.

_His Wife (disappointed)._ Saw 'tis, and naw charge for lookin' at 'en

_The Proprietor._ Ladies and Gentlemen, Re-membar! This is positively
the last opportunity of witnessing DENMAN'S Celebrated Menagerie--the
largest in the known world! The Lecturer is now describing the animals,
after which Mlle. CRAVACHE and ZAMBANGO, the famous African Lion-tamers,
will go through their daring feats with forest-bred lions, tigers,
bears, and hyenas, for the last time in this town. Re-membar--the last
performance this evening!

_Joe (to his Wife)._ If ye'd like to hev a look at 'em, I wun't say nay
to et.

_His Wife._ I dunno as I care partickler 'bout which way 'tis.

_Joe (annoyed)._ Bide where 'ee be then.

_His Wife._ Theer's th' child, JOE, to be sure.

_Joe._ Well we baint a gooin' in, and so th' child want come to no 'arm,
and theer's a hend on it!

_His Wife._ Nay, she'd lay in my arms as quiet as quiet. I wur on'y
thinkin, JOE, as it 'ud be somethin' to tell her when she wur a big
gell, as her daddy took her to see th' wild beasties afoor iver she
could tark--that's arl I wur meanin', JOE. And they'll let 'er goo in
free, too.

_Joe._ Aye, that'll be fine tellin's fur 'er, sure 'nough. Come arn,
Missus, we'll tek th' babby in--happen she'll niver git th' chance
again. [_They mount the steps eagerly._


_Joe's Wife (with a vague sense of being defrauded)._ I thart theer'd
ha' bin moor smell, wi' so many on 'em!

_Joe._ They doan't git naw toime for it, I reckon, allus on the rord as
they be.

_The Lecturer._ Illow me to request yar kind hattention for a moment.
(Stand back there, you boys, and don't beyave in such a silly manner!)
We har now arrived at the Haswail, or Sloth Bear, described by BUFFON as
'aving 'abits which make it a burden to itself. (_Severely._) The
Haswail. In the hajoinin' cage observe the Loocorricks, the hony hanimal
to oom fear is habsolootly hunknown. When hattacked by the Lion, he
places his 'ed between his fore-legs, and in that position awaits the
honset of his would-be destroyer.

_Joe's Wife._ I thart it wur th' _hostridge_ as hacted that away.

_Joe._ Ostridges ain't gotten they long twisted harns as iver I heard

_His Wife (stopping before another den)._ Oh, my blessed! 'Ere be a
queer lookin' critter, do 'ee look at 'en, JOE. What'll he be now?

_Joe._ How do 'ee suppose as I be gooin' to tell 'ee the name of 'en?
He'll likely be a sart of a 'arse. [_Dubiously._

_His Wife._ They've a let 'en git wunnerful ontidy fur sure. 'Ere,
Mister (_to Stranger_) can you tell us the name of that theer hanimal?

_Stranger._ That--oh, that's a Gnu.

_Joe's Wife._ He says it be a noo.

_Joe._ A noo _what_?

_His Wife._ Why, a noo _hanimal_, I s'pose.

_Joe._ Well, he bain't naw himprovement on th' hold 'uns, as _I_ can
see. They'd better ha' left it aloan if they couldn't do naw better nor
'im. Dunno what things be coming to, hinventin' o' noo hanimals at this
time o' day!


_A Boozed and Argumentative Rustic._ I sez as that 'un's a fawks, an'
I'm ready to prove it on anny man.

_A Companion (soothingly)._ Naw, naw, 'e baint naw fawks. I dunno what
'tis,--but taint naw fawks nawhow.

_B. and A. Rustic._ I tell 'ee _'tis_ a fawks, I'm sure on it. (_To_
Mild Visitor.) _Baint'e_ a fawks, Master, eh?

_Mild Visitor._ Well, really, if you ask me, I should say it was a

_The Rustic's Comp._ A hyanna! ah, that's a deal moor like; saw 'tis!

_The Rustic._ A Pianner? do 'ee take me fur a vool? I knaws a pianner
when I sees 'un. Farmer BROWN, 'e 'as a pianner, and 'tain't like naw
fawks! I'll knack th' 'ed arf o' thee, tryin' to stoof me oop i' that
way. Wheer be th' man as said 'twas a pianner? [Mild V. _has discreetly
lost himself in the crowd_.


_Second Boy._ Sit a bit moor forrard, BILLY, cann't 'ee!

_First Boy._ _Cann't_, I tell 'ee, I be sittin' on th' scruff of 'is
neck as 'tis.

_Third Boy._ I can see my vaither, I can. 'Ere, vaither, vaither, look
at me--see wheer I be!

_Fourth Boy (a candid friend)._ Shoot oop, cann't 'ee, ya young
gozzle-'ead! Think ya vaither niver see a hass on a hellyphant afoor!

_Fifth Boy._ These yere helliphants be main straddly roidin'. I wish 'e
wudn't waak honly waun haff of 'en at oncest, loike. What do 'ee mean, a
kitchin' 'old o' me behind i' that way, eh, JIMMY PASSONS!

_Sixth Boy._ _You'd_ ketch 'old o' hanything if you was like me, a
slidin' down th' helliphant's ta-ail.

_Fifth Boy._ If 'ee doan't let go o' me, I'll job th' helliphant's ribs
and make 'im gallop, I will, so _now_, JIMMY PASSONS!


_Various Speakers._ Wheer be pushin' to? Carl that manners, screouging
like that!...I cann't see nawthen, _I_ cann't, wi' all they 'ats in
front ... What be gooin' arn, do 'ee know?...A wumman gooin' in along
o' they lions and tigerses? Naw, ye niver mane it!...Bain't she a
leatherin' of 'un too!...Now she be a kissin' of 'un--maakin' it oop,
loike ... JOHN, you can see better nor me--what be she oop to now?...
Puttin' 'er 'ed inside o' th' lion's? Aw, dear me, now--_theer's_ a
thing to be doin' of! Well, I'd ruther it was 'er nor me, I know _that_
... They wun't do 'er naw 'arm, so long's she kips 'er heye on 'em ...
What do 'ee taak so voolish vor? How's th' wumman to kip 'er heye on
'em, with 'er 'ed down wan on 'em's throat, eh?... Gracious alive! if
iver I did!...Oh. I do 'ope she baint gooin' to let off naw fire-arms,
I be moor fear'd o' pistols nor any tigers ... Theer, she's out now! She
be bold, fur a female, baint her?...She niver maade 'em joomp through
naw bla-azin' 'oops, though ... What carl would she hev fur doin' that?
Well, they've a drared 'er doin' of it houtside, that's arl I know ...
An' they've a drared HADAM outside a naamin' of th' hanimals--but ye
didn't expect to see _that_ doon inside, did 'ee?...BOB, do 'ee look at
old Muster MANDERS ovver theer by th' hellyphant. He's a maakin' of
'isself that familiar--putting biskuts 'tween his lips and lettin' th'
hellyphant take 'em out wi' 's troonk!..._I_ see un--let un aloan, th'
hold doitler, happen he thinks he's a feedin' his canary bird!

       *       *       *       *       *


[Illustration: No. 237. THE HARMONIOUS FAMILY.

_Gentleman Amateur (looking at music, aside to himself)._ That's the
note she ought to be singing.

_Lady Amateur (thinks to herself)._ I can sing without music. Rather!
I'll give it 'em! [_Sings fortissimo._

_Little Boy Amateur (toying low with violin, to himself)._ Yah! Go on!
I'll cut in presently with my fiddle. That'll make 'em squirm!]

[Illustration: No. 186. Eminent Solicitor disturbed at work by anxious
and indiscriminate public. (_Vide Letterpress._)]

[Illustration: No. 392. A Blow Out; or, Pipes in a Small Room after
Dinner. Mr. G. is arguing the question with fair hostess. Lord Rosebery
is regarding the Piper with ill-disguised horror.]

[Illustration: No. 141. Il Cigaretto; or, Should Women Smoke? After her
first attempt.]

[Illustration: No. 105. "How It's Done;" or, Her First Toys. Worked with

[Illustration: No. 1,146. Sale of Stanhope Forbes' effects. Artistic
effects excellent. Should fetch high price.]

[Illustration: No. 113. "Will It Bite?" What does she see? A white
mouse? Delightful this. Mr. Boughton, A.R.A.]

No. 8. Symbolical Theatrical Picture. Production of _The Tiger_ at St.
James's Theatre. Tiger coming out strong, suddenly finds himself in
presence of furiously antagonistic Gallery audience, represented by a
venomous hissing snake, which has been waiting for him, like _Chevy
Slyme_, round the corner. Snake also emblematic of "reptile press."
Situation portrayed by J. T. NETTLESHIP.]

[Illustration: No. 213. John Burns as the Italian Tenor, Signor

[Illustration: No. 98. Small and Early Architecture. Showing how to set
up a boxful of the new building toy bricks.]

[Illustration: No. 82. Evidently a Female Succi, or Fasting Woman.]

Nos. 39 and 43. Admirable portrait of Sir JOHN PENDER (43) severely
lecturing THOMAS HAWKSLEY, Esq. (39) and evidently telling the latter
that he ought to be more careful. Both admirable portraits, by Professor
HERKOMER, A.R.A., Master of Bushey, F.A.S., M.A., Oxon.

No. 66. "Good morning, Ma'am! Have you used SQUEERS'S soap? No. I
thought not. Try it." Suggested for Advertisement by EDWIN WARD.

No. 76. _Undisguised Alarm._ "What _have_ I sat on!!" Perhaps you can
tell us, Mr. R. W. MADDOX.

No. 99. "_My Eye!--I mean my left eye!_" J. J. SHANNON.

No. 108. _Dog Stealing; or, what will they do with it?_ R. W. MACBETH,

No. 114. "_Out! Out! Damp Spot!_" HERBERT DALZIEL.

No. 119. _Raised under Glass._ Preserved Pheasant to be wound up and go
off with a whirr-r. Can't make game of this. Your health, Sir JOHN
MILLAIS, Bart., R.A.

No. 122. _Question of taste_. "Do these trousers go well with my
Academicals? No. So I'll only show just a little bit of 'em, _knee plus
ultra_. That'll please the artist." J. J. SHANNON.

No. 144. "_When Earthly Shapes are wrapped in Gloom._" Miss A.

No. 160. "I blacked my face last night to play the part of a female
Christy Ministrel, and I haven't quite succeeded in getting it off this
morning. Isn't it a pity, eh, Mr. EDWIN WARD?"

No. 162. _The Playful Monster._ C. N. KENNEDY.

No. 164. "_Coming a Quiet Chuckle._" Old Gentleman thinking over a good
story, on which he calculates being asked out for the entire season.

No. 185. _The Ferry._ Charming! Ferry much so. G. H. BOUGHTON, A.R.A.

No. 186. Dialogue overheard in front of this:--

_He._ Is that a portrait?

_She._ Yes; I think so.

_He._ Whose?

_She (after referring to catalogue)._ GEORGE LEWIS.

_He (suddenly, after a pause)._ Who's GEORGE LEWIS?!!!!!

What the reply was we don't know,--the question was too much for us, and
we were caught in an attendant's arms, taken upstairs tenderly, and
treated with care in the refreshment room. Who could imagine such
ignorance possible in this "so-called Nineteenth Century!" "Who is
GEORGE LEWIS!" ... "Ask a policeman."

       *       *       *       *       *



"_This piece must come off at once_;" _i.e._, "I've got one which would
just come in nicely, and could let 'em have it cheap."

"_The dialogue is poor, the plot badly constructed_;" _i.e._, "These are
the two things for which everybody is going to praise this dramatic
author. So I'll have my knife into him."

"_The music is pretty enough, though some of the principal melodies
irresistibly call to mind the popular works of other composers_;"
_i.e._, "He'll be praised for his originality. Bah! I've written things
just as good as these."

"_A most amusing Article, but a little of it goes a long way_;" _i.e._,
Is tired of his subject, and wants to turn his attention to something


"_It's a very curious fact_;" _i.e._, "Now to pile on the embroidery."

"_Now, do drop all formality, and look in to dinner quite in a friendly
way. But you must take us just as you find us_;" _i.e._, "It counts as a
formal invitation, and he's sure not to come."

"_You can't come! Oh, I'm so sorry!_" _i.e._, "Didn't even know I'd
asked her."


"_If at any time, by one jot, or one tittle, or one hair's breadth, or
in the very slightest degree, or in the least_;" _i.e._, "What, oh, what
was I going to say? Can't go on like this for ever."

"_Never was the country menaced with a more critical danger; never was
our Party more enthusiastically united in confronting it_;" _i.e._, "It
won't make a bad cry, and may pull the stragglers together a bit."

"_An oration which for a splendid combination of close reasoning and
moving eloquence, is scarcely paralleled even among the many
masterpieces of the illustrious speaker_;" _i.e._, "An average speech
from the point of view of the speaker's journalistic supporters."

"_Its loose logic, ineffective rhetoric, and undignified petulance,
furnishes a pitiful proof of the intellectual and moral decadence of a
once great name_;" _i.e._, The same oration seen from the other side.


"_His knowledge of music is something quite phenomenal_;" _i.e._, "He
knows, and can talk about, absolutely nothing else."

"_Would be quite lovely, but for a certain_ je ne sais quoi _which
repels most people_;" _i.e._, "Beautiful beyond all criticism that is
not vaguely venomous."

"_You dear thing_!" _i.e._, "You inconsequent little noodle!"


"_How quite too weirdly quaint!_" _i.e._, "What an uncanny horror of
archaic ugliness!"

"_How quite too awfully kind of you to take all this trouble!_" _i.e._,
"Foolish old faddist! What is bliss to him is boredom to me."

"_How fearful you must be of fire!_" _i.e._, "Oh, for a lucky


"_Oh, I'm sure I shall enjoy it immensely_;" _i.e._, "He can't talk any
more than a semaphore, and looks as sleepy as an owl."

"_What! You go right on to-day without changing? That is nice;_" _i.e._,
"Confound it! I thought there would be a chance of a cigar after the

"_Oh yes, plenty of room, and pleased to have you_;" _i.e._, "Old
nuisance! will quite spoil my promising _tête-à-tête_."


"_You see you have just the figure--slim and graceful you know--for
Signor Dumcramboni, which is the great thing_;" _i.e._, "Must flatter
him a little, or he'll kick at the one-speech part."

"_Oh, I leave myself entirely in your hands_;" _i.e._, "Wait till I'm
fairly in, and _I_'ll show him!"

"_Really, the prodigious passion that Mr. Elderberrie throws into the
declaration-scene quite disconcerts me_;" _i.e._, "Preposterous old

"_Well, I'm sure I don't know what we should do without You! You put us
all right_;" _i.e._, "Fussy old idiot! Once spoke to MACREADY, and
fancies himself no end of a Manager."


"_Champagne. Grand Vin. Special Brand. Cuvée Reservée, 1874. Offered at
28s. the Dozen. Only a few dozen of this magnificent wine are left_;"
_i.e._, A dangerous home-manufactured compound of apple and gooseberry,
that could not be safely offered even at a funeral.

"_The 'Indian Sunrise' Rheumatic Vinegar, distilled in the far East from
the choicest Oriental herbs_;" _i.e._, Some stuff made in Shoreditch of
common blue vitriol and turpentine.


"_Oh, how like!_" _i.e._, "Like?--Yes, like every other baby."

       *       *       *       *       *


_Wednesday._--_Mr. Punch_ appears. Up and out early. Rejoicings.
Banquets to Mr. STANLEY generally.

_Thursday._--Old Half-Quarter Day, New Style. Anniversary Dinner, at the
Goose and Serpent, of First Night Theatrical-Wreckers' Club. Mrs.
SNOOKS' Dinner, to meet Mr. STANLEY.

_Friday._--Nothing particular, except meeting Mr. STANLEY.

_Saturday._--Close time for Salmon in Serpentine begins. Mrs. NEMO'S
first dance with Mr. STANLEY.

_Sunday._--Everyone in Hyde Park to meet Mr. STANLEY. Rev. Dr.
HONEYMAN'S Sermon to Mr. STANLEY. Museums closed. Flowers open, free.

_Monday and Tuesday._--Much as usual. To meet Mr. STANLEY.

_General Forecast._--Weather unsettled at first. More so afterwards.
N.E.E. Gales to meet Mr. STANLEY. Snow, followed by violent Cyclones,
unless dry, warm, and 91° in the shade. Depression over the whole of the
British Dominions.

_Wednesday._--Depression entirely relieved by appearance of _Mr. Punch_.
Rejoicings all day. Squibs, Fireworks at night. In the evening, Somebody
meets Mr. STANLEY.


Cromwell Row'd S.W.]

       *       *       *       *       *

Lady HENRIETTA SHIMMERS' long-talked-of Dance came off yesterday
evening, at her _recherché_ little mansion in North-west Bayswater, and
was a great success. A handsome second-hand slip of Dutch carpet was
laid down on the pavement outside the Hall-door, and from an early hour
in the afternoon afforded a theme for much favourable comment in the
immediate neighbourhood. The staircase had been, with the aid of
half-a-dozen night-lights and a profusion of homemade paper flowers,
turned into a perfect fairyland, the illusion becoming the more perfect
the further the spectator receded. The one purple and green Hungarian,
who attended with his trombone to represent that celebrated band of
musicians, supplied the dance music with much spirit, while those
noted _viveurs_, capable of expressing an opinion on the subject of
supper, declare that the South-American tinned oysters, and the
seventeen-shilling Roumanian champagne, with which they washed
them down, were both, in their way, respectively, in the shape of
refreshment, quite the most remarkable things they had met with
anywhere this season. The company was select and distinguished.
Mrs. JIPPLING, who brought her two chubby-faced, pretty daughters, both
in ditch-water-coloured cotton, was a simple blaze of Birmingham paste
and green-glass emeralds, and with her _pompadour_ of yellow satin bed
curtain, trimmed with _chiffons_ of scarlet bell-ropes, looped up
tastefully with bunches of _cordons d'onions d'Espagne à la
blanchisseuse_, was the centre of pleasurable astonishment wherever she
went. LADY PICKOVER also created quite a sensation, being a perfect
dream in orange worsted. Miss MUGALLOW attracted a good deal of notice,
wearing the celebrated heavily enamelled plated family Holly-hocks, and
several _débutantes_ in bright arsenical Emerald Green, who had not much
to recommend them in the way of good looks, came in for a fair amount of
cynically disagreeable comment. The dance terminated at an early hour in
the morning, it being eventually brought to a conclusion by a little
riot in the hall, caused by the linkman (who, owing to his potations,
had not been very steady after midnight) endeavouring to make off with
the hat-and-umbrella-stand, a feat which brought the police on to the
premises with a suggestion, that "as things seemed getting a bit lively
inside, perhaps the concern had better come to a finish." The
proceedings shortly after this, were brought to an abrupt conclusion.


JUTE.--A quiet feeling, with small Sales.]

       *       *       *       *       *

Two young men of aristocratic appearance, and otherwise faultless dress,
were observed in the Park on Monday, in boots of ordinary leather. This
breach of the _convenances_ has excited much comment in the fashionable
world to which they belong.

       *       *       *       *       *

A curious sight was yesterday witnessed in Piccadilly. A gentleman well
known in Society and in Politics lost his hat, which was run over, but
not otherwise damaged, by a passing omnibus. The Honourable Gentleman's
exclamation has been the subject of considerable remark in the Lobby of
the House.

       *       *       *       *       *

A careful investigator has been occupied in calculating the amount of
roof accommodation available for the cats of the Metropolis. Dividing
London according to Parliamentary districts, and subdividing these
parochially and by streets (due allowance being, of course, made for
wear and tear and removals), he has reached the remarkable conclusion,
that every cat can command exactly one two-hundredth part of a roof. In
this calculation kittens have been neglected.

       *       *       *       *       *

What is this I hear about the Officers of the Sheriff of a County not a
hundred miles from the Metropolis, refusing to be present at Mrs. LEO
HUNTER'S grand reception in Lower Chelsea, to meet the youngest son of
His Highness the Rajah of Jamjam, ALIKHAN INDOORE? Was it because Mrs.
H. forgot to ask their wives?

       *       *       *       *       *

The great feature of Mrs. DUIT CHEEPELEY'S Fancy Dress Pic-nic at
Burnham Beeches will be, that every guest will bring his own hamper. The
hostess herself, as Ceres, the Goddess of Plenty, will provide the
corkscrews only.

       *       *       *       *       *

Lieut.-Colonel CONTRE JUMPERE, of the 28th Volunteer Battalion of the
Diddlesex Regiment (Shoreditch Sharpshooters), on Saturday last
entertained the officers under his command at a _déjeuner à deux plats_
in the palatial restaurant of which he is Managing Director.

       *       *       *       *       *

Messrs. BROWN, JONES, and ROBINSON have met Mr. STANLEY. Mr. STANLEY is
reported to have said that he will _not_ meet them again.

       *       *       *       *       *

At the last moment it is reported that the engagement of the great
African Explorer with Mrs. SNOOKES to meet at five o'clock tea Sir
JOSEPH and Lady SMUGGINGS is indefinitely postponed.


"May Fare, W." Lamb Salad and New Peas. A picture of Still Life.]

       *       *       *       *       *

"ROBERT" writes to us about "The Ewents of the Week." He says:--

"The City Acaddemy, which it's on the Tems Embankment, opened on
Toosday, and I'm told as about a thowsend pupils went a scrambling in
there, as hurly as 9 a clock, with their shiny morning faces, and with
their scratchels on their backs, as the Poet says, and with their
lunches in 'em, as praps the Poet didn't kno of; and arterwards, the
LORD MARE and his Sherryffs went to Epping Forest and dined at a Pick
Nick with a lot of Werderers, whatever they may be, and some common
Counselmen, but, strange to say, they didn't have no Wenson! so they
made Game of one another. They didn't arsk that Mr. PERCY LINDLEY, who's
allers a finding fault with 'em for cutting so many trees down and then
cutting 'em up. They ort to have known from their long xperience, that a
jolly good dinner woud most likely have made him hopen his mouth, and
shut his eyes, and hold his Tung, like a gennelman."

"At a meeting at 'Good Old Bethnal Green,' as a werry lowd woiced
gennelman called it, it was enounced that Mr. PASSMORE EDWARDS, the
howner of the howdacious hapenny 'Hecko,' had promised to give 'em
£20,000 to bild 'em a new Library with! when the lowd woiced gennelman
ginerously enounced that he woud buy a coppy of that paper the werry
next day! If that isn't grattetude, what is?"

       *       *       *       *       *

A Cambridge Mathematician of repute has just concluded a careful and
exhaustive calculation, by which he maintains that if all the pork-chops
eaten in London in a week were placed in a row, they would reach from
Camberwell to the Isle of Wight; and if piled in a heap on each other,
would form a mound half as high again as Primrose Hill.


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.

       *       *       *       *       *

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