By Author [ A  B  C  D  E  F  G  H  I  J  K  L  M  N  O  P  Q  R  S  T  U  V  W  X  Y  Z |  Other Symbols ]
  By Title [ A  B  C  D  E  F  G  H  I  J  K  L  M  N  O  P  Q  R  S  T  U  V  W  X  Y  Z |  Other Symbols ]
  By Language
all Classics books content using ISYS

Download this book: [ ASCII | HTML | PDF ]

Look for this book on Amazon

We have new books nearly every day.
If you would like a news letter once a week or once a month
fill out this form and we will give you a summary of the books for that week or month by email.

Title: Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 93, October 29, 1887
Author: Various
Language: English
As this book started as an ASCII text book there are no pictures available.
Copyright Status: Not copyrighted in the United States. If you live elsewhere check the laws of your country before downloading this ebook. See comments about copyright issues at end of book.

*** Start of this Doctrine Publishing Corporation Digital Book "Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 93, October 29, 1887" ***

This book is indexed by ISYS Web Indexing system to allow the reader find any word or number within the document.


VOL. 93.

October 29th, 1887.



Self, wife, and HERBERT started early to escape our kind-hearted,
clear-headed admirers; so early, that I scarcely had time before
leaving to write thirty post-cards, seventy-six pages of notes for
my next magazine article, and to cut down half-a-dozen trees. Train
announced to leave Chester at 10:30, but got off at the hour.
This little joke (WATKIN'S notion) caused much amusement. Through
opera-glasses we could see bands of music, deputations, &c.,
constantly coming to the railway-stations to meet our train after
it had passed. Too bad! However, to prevent disappointment, and as
CHAMBERLAIN has been imitating me and vulgarised my original idea, I
knocked off some speeches, in pencil, and HERBERT threw them out of
the window as fast as I could write them. So far as we could make out
with a telescope, some of them reached their destination, and seemed
to be well received.

[Illustration: Master Willie Gladstone "really enjoying, and in some
measure appreciating and understanding," our Mr. Agnew's lectures on

_Vide Times Report, Oct. 18._]

Awfully pleased to meet Mr. WILLIAM AGNEW at Manchester. Odd
coincidence of Christian names. I shall speak of him and allude to him
as "The Other WILLIAM." He promised to keep by me, and show me all the
pictures worth seeing.

"T'Other WILLIAM," said I, "you are very good. As you know, I take a
great and sincere interest in pictures and works of Art, although I
know very little about them." T'Other WILLIAM protested. "No, T'Other
WILLIAM, I am right. You have been the means of providing me with
a commodity most difficult of all others to procure if you do not
possess it yourself--that is to say, you have provided me with
brains." Further protests from T'Other One. "No, T'Other WILLIAM,
hear me out; for you know in all cases where a judgment has had to be
passed upon works of Art, I have been accustomed to refer a great deal
to you, and lean upon you, because you have been constantly the means
of enabling me really to see, and really to enjoy, and in some measure
to appreciate and understand, all that you have shown to me."

I was so pleased with this little speech that I made HERBERT take it
down as I repeated it to him privately when T'Other was looking in
another direction. When I brought it out afterwards, at luncheon in
the Palm-house, it went wonderfully. So it should, because I felt
every word of it. T'Other WILLIAM is one of the kindest and most
courteous of my friends.

I was very pleased with the Exhibition, although perhaps (I am not
certain of this) I might have seen it better had not about four
thousand visitors followed our little party everywhere, cheering
vociferously. I was consequently obliged to keep my attention most
carefully fixed upon the exhibits, as when I caught any stranger's
eye, the stranger immediately (but with an eagerness that did not
exceed the limits of good behaviour) called upon me to make a speech
then and there upon the subject of "Home Rule." I am sure I should
on each and every occasion have only been too delighted, had not Sir
ANDREW warned me not to indulge too much in that sort of thing. The
crowd, however, had its decided advantage, inasmuch as we were carried
off our feet everywhere. In this luxurious fashion we were wafted to
Messrs. DOULTON'S Pottery Manufactory, to Mr. JESSE HAWORTH'S loan
exhibition of Egyptian antiquities, the name "JESSE" recalled to me
the poor misguided JOE'S "JESSE," the second fiddle, but _toujours
fidèle_, and to a great many other shows of almost equal interest.

But of course _the_ feature of the Exhibition was the collection
of pictures. I was absolutely delighted. T'Other WILLIAM explained
everything, and amongst other portraits showed me one of myself by
MILLAIS. I imagine that everybody must have thought it very like,
because when they observed me inspecting it, they cheered more
vigorously than ever. For my part I can't help feeling that Sir JOHN
might have done more with the collars. He has not (to my thinking,
although I confess I may be wrong) put quite enough starch in them.
This is my own idea, as I did not consult T'Other One upon the
subject. Great as my reliance is upon him concerning works of Art, I
reserve the right of using my own judgment in the matter of collars.
Passing through the galleries I was delighted with everything I saw.
The only drawback to my pleasure was the fact that I was followed (as
I have already hinted) by a cheering crowd, who occasionally, and, no
doubt, accidentally, drowned the voice of my kind Mentor. Under other
circumstances I should have drawn the distinction between the Mentor
and the Tor-mentors. Think this, but don't say it. For instance, when
we were standing in front of "_Ramsgate Sands_," this is what reached
my ears eager for instruction:--

"'_Ramsgate Sands_,' by FRITH--(_'Hooray!'_)--who, as you know, has
just written--(_'Speech! Speech!' 'Home Rule!' 'Three cheers for
MORLEY!'_)--full of anecdotes of all sorts of interesting people. If
you went to Ramsgate now, you would find----(_'We are going to give
you another carpet, old man!' 'Hooray, hooray, hooray!' 'Three
Cheers for Home Rule!--An extra one for Manchester!'_)--and
practically the sand-frequenters we are carefully examining in this
picture are of thirty years ago. (_'Speech! Speech!'_) You must
know----(_'Hooray, hooray, hooray!'_)"

And at this period my dear friend was silenced by our being carried
away in an irresistible stream to the Palm-house, where we took part
in an excellent luncheon. Here I delivered my speech, which I
pride myself was first-rate. I called Manchester the Modern Athens,
explaining, however, that no offence was intended to the capital
of Midlothian. Take it all round, then, in spite of the "exuberant
interest" shown in me by my fellow-citizens, I have had a very
pleasant day, thanks chiefly to T'Other WILLIAM.

       *       *       *       *       *


_October 25._--Lecture by amiable Police Magistrate to six hulking
rowdies, who have been assaulting the Police, on the duty of "bearing
distress patiently." Tells them "not to do it again," and dismisses
them with aid from the Poor Box and his blessing. Surprise of rowdies.

_October 26._--Unemployed employ themselves in sacking portion of Bond
Street, during temporary withdrawal of Police for a little rest.

_October 27._--Sitting Alderman at Mansion House gives a Socialist
Deputation some sympathetic and fatherly advice, and recommends them
to "study laws of supply and demand." Invites them to Lord Mayor's
Banquet. Deputation accepts invitation readily, and, on emerging
into street, is chivied down Cheapside by infuriated mob of other
Socialists, who have not received invitations.

_October 28._--New Leaders of Mob (_vice_ Deputation, resigned)
denounce sympathetic Alderman as a "bloated exploiter." Nelson
Monument pulled down. Ten leading tradesmen, in neighbourhood of
Trafalgar Square, unable to do any business, owing to streets being
blocked with rioters, go into bankruptcy.

_October 29._--Gathering of "Unemployed" in Westminster Abbey.
Unemployed complain bitterly because chairs have no cushions. The
Dean, conducted to pulpit under strong police escort, preaches very
conciliatory sermon on duty of Upper Classes, all, except Deans, to
give most of what they possess to poor; advises poor to wait patiently
till they get it. Retires under heavy shower of hymn-books. Unemployed
"remain to prey."

_October 30._--Westminster Abbey sacked, in consequence of Dean's
conciliatory sermon. The Canons go off.

_November 1._--Mansion House Relief Fund started. Fifty thousand
pounds subscribed the first day by leading philanthropists who
have had all their windows broken. Trade paralysed, and numbers of
Unemployed consequently increasing. Speech by celebrated Statesman,
contrasting disorder and lawlessness in Ireland with universal
contentment and order existing in England.

_November 2._--Mob helps itself to chief pictures in National Gallery,
on ground that they "belong to the people." Raffle organised for the
Raffaelles. Fifteen policemen have their ribs broken.

_November 3._--Whole Police Force disabled by angry mob armed with
bludgeons and revolvers. Sympathetic Alderman at Mansion House
ventures to ask Government if "matters are not really going a little
too far," and is ducked in Thames. All the West-End shops in-wested by

_November 4._--Prime Minister declares that "much as he regrets the
depression of trade and want of employment, yet he thinks that on the
whole, recent proceedings have not been quite creditable to Capital
City of Empire." Military called out, and streets cleared in no time.
Ringleaders of mob arrested, and given a year's imprisonment with hard
labour. Trafalgar Square railed round and planted with prickly cactus.
Business resumed and confidence restored. Government begins to think
of a Bill to deal with _real_ London grievances--such as rack-rents,
slum-dwellings, and foreign pauper labour.      [_And high time too!_

       *       *       *       *       *

A CLOUD OF YACHTS.--The account of the British owner published last
week, confirms the notion that the much-talked-of superiority of
the _Thistle_ over the _Volunteer_ was mere vapouring. This is not
surprising. All that could be appropriately expected from such a weed
was smoke!

       *       *       *       *       *



_Sancho Panza (to himself)._ "I CANNOT HELP IT,--FOLLOW HIM I MUST:
Quixote_, Part ii., Book iii., Ch. xxxiii.]

       *       *       *       *       *


_Fragments from a forthcoming Romance of (Political) Chivalry and
(Party) Knight-Errantry._


The age of our gentleman bordered upon fifty years. He was of a strong
constitution, spare-bodied, of a keen, not to say hatchet-like visage,
a very early (and rapid) riser, and a lover of the orchid.


His judgment being somewhat obscured, he was seized with one of the
strangest fancies that ever entered the head of any naturally astute
person. This was a belief that it behoved him, as well for the
advancement of his own glory as the service of his country, to become
a knight-errant (though, indeed, there was, perhaps, about him more
of the errant than the knightly), and traverse the northern parts of
Hibernia, armed and mounted, in quest of adventures, redressing every
species of grievance save such as were not found in his own list, or
"programme," which latter, indeed, he would by no means admit to be
"grievances" at all. The poor gentleman imagined himself to be at
least crowned Autocrat of Orangeia by the valour of his arm; and
thus wrapt in these agreeable illusions, and borne away by the
extraordinary pleasure he found in them, he hastened to put his design
into execution.

The first thing he did was to scour up some rusty armour which had
done service in the time of his great-grandfather, and had lain many
years neglected in a corner. This he cleaned and furbished up as well
as he could, but he found one great defect--it would not in any part
stand one stroke from modern steel, much less one shot from modern
gun. However, as he was rather fired with the yearning to attack than
impressed with the necessity for defence, this deficiency troubled him
but little.

In the next place he visited his steed, which though but a hobby of
wooden aspect and no paces, yet in his eyes it surpassed any charger
that the Achilles of Hawarden ever bestrode, or the Automedon of Derby
ever handled. Many days was he deliberating upon what name he should
give it; for, as he said to himself, it would be very improper that
a horse so excellent appertaining to a Knight so famous should be
without an appropriate name; he therefore endeavoured to find one that
should express what he had been before he belonged to a knight-errant,
and also what he now was; nothing could, indeed, be more reasonable
than that, when the master changed his state, the horse should
likewise change his name, and assume one pompous and high-sounding, as
became the new order he now professed. Failing in this endeavour, he
called his hobby, provisionally at least, _Ne Plus Ulster_, a name
which if it suggested a sorry joke, was so far fitting that it was
bestowed upon a sorry nag.


In the meantime our knight-errant had brought his persuasive powers to
bear upon a humble labourer in the fields which he himself had lately
left, a neighbour of his, some said of his own distant kin, and an
honest man, but somewhat shallow-brained and self-important. In short,
he said so much, used so many arguments, that the poor fellow resolved
to sally out with him, and serve him in the capacity of a Squire.
Among other things, DON QUIXOTE told him that he ought to be very glad
to accompany him, for such an adventure might some time or the other
occur, that, by one stroke, an Island might be won, where it was
within the bounds of possibility that he, the Squire, might one day
become Governor, or at least Viceroy. With this and other promises
SANCHO PANZA (for that was the rustic's name) left his well-beloved
three acres at home, not to name a favourite cow, for a time at least,
and engaged himself as Squire to his ambitious neighbour.


Engaged in friendly discourse, they came in sight of eighty-five or
eighty-six windmills; and as DON QUIXOTE espied them he said to
his Squire, "Fortune favours us. Look yonder, friend JESSE--I mean
SANCHO--where thou mayest discover some more than eighty disloyal
giants, and monsters of sedition, whom I intend to encounter and
slay." "What giants?" said SANCHO PANZA. "These thou seest yonder,"
answered his master, "with their long and far-reaching arms, for some
are wont to have them of the full length of a league. Fly not, ye
cowards, and vile caitiffs!" he cried, "for it is a single Knight
who assaults ye! Although ye should have more arms than the giant
Briareus, ye shall pay for it!"


And the story, so far as it has gone (it is "to be continued"),
leaves DON QUIXOTE making a prodigiously plucky assault upon the
League-limbed "giants," with what result the sequel will show.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: TORSION.

_Irish Waiter (to Bow-legged Traveller in the Coffee-room)._ "BIG

_Traveller (fiercely)._ "EH? WHA' FOR? WHA' D'YE MEAN?!"


       *       *       *       *       *


  [It is announced that Ladies are to be enabled to take
  diplomas in Dentistry.]

  Lady Dentist, dear thou art,
  Thou hast stolen all my heart;
  Take too, I shall not repine,
  Modest molars such as mine;
  Draw them at thine own sweet will;
  Pain can come not from thy skill.

  Lady Dentist, fair to see,
  Are the forceps held by thee;
  Lest those pretty lips should pout,
  You may pull my eye-teeth out;
  I'm regardless of the pangs,
  When thy hand extracts the fangs.

  Lady Dentist, hear me pray
  Thou wilt visit me each day;
  Welcome is the hand that comes--
  Lightly hovering o'er my gums.
  Not a throne, love, could compare
  With thine operating chair.

  Lady Dentist, when in sooth
  You've extracted every tooth,
  Take me toothless to your arms,
  For the future will have charms:
  Artificial teeth shall be--
  Work for you and joy for me!

       *       *       *       *       *

ALL THE DIFFERENCE.--The Statesmen used to be called "Pillars of the
State." _Pillars!_ They now seem to contribute to its support little
but endless (newspaper) _columns_!

       *       *       *       *       *



                                            _H-tf-ld House, Friday._



After a too brief holiday I am back again to H-tf-ld and to L-nd-n,
and take an early opportunity of dropping you a line. I call the
interval since the House was up a holiday for convenience sake; but
what with the daily arrival of despatch boxes and the delivery of the
morning papers, the repose has been intermittent. I fancy that since
the days of Old PAM the recess has always been a mockery for the
Premier of the day. D-ZZY had some bad times from 1874 to 1880, and
GL-DST-NE'S subsequent Premiership was not a bed of roses, even in the
recess. But they at least had the satisfaction of feeling that they
were in power as well as in office. If they decided upon a particular
line of policy, they could initiate it without first inquiring how it
might suit half-a-dozen people. Moreover, each was in varying degree
supported by capable colleagues, able to hold their own on the
platform or in the House. For unhappy Me things are quite otherwise.
I may devise a policy for Ireland and elsewhere, but before I can
announce it, I must humbly learn how it suits my Lord H-RT-NGT-N and
my good friend CH-MB-RL-N. As for my colleagues and the help I receive
from them----well, that is a matter of which of course I cannot write,
even in the confidence of correspondence with you. But I may tell you
that over at Châlet C-c-l I found some little time for reading other
literature than Blue Books. Looking through SHELLEY once again, I
came upon the line descriptive of COLERIDGE, "flagging wearily through
darkness and despair,"

  "A hooded eagle among blinking owls."

I don't exactly know why, but when I think of some things that have
taken place lately, I have a strong feeling of personal sympathy with
the hooded eagle.

But this is a trifle melancholy, and will make you think I am in
low spirits, or even that there is truth in the newspaper rumours
of failing health. Nothing of the sort, dear boy; never better in my
life. Full of health and spirits, of hope for the coming time, and
eagerness for the fray of next Session. How I have envied GL-DST-NE
going about the country making speeches which would have been twice as
effective if they had been half as long, receiving the homage of the
masses, and driving in state through the streets of Derby, with his
led Captain, H-RC-RT, on the box-seat of his carriage! What a curious
man is GL-DST-NE, the Elephant of our political life, who can in the
morning crush a Ministry, and in the afternoon achieve a petty economy
by selling waste timber. There has been a good deal written about
NAPOLEON whilst involved in his fatal campaign in Russia occupying
spare moments in drawing up regulations for the Opera House at Paris.
But what is that compared with GL-DST-NE marching through the Midlands
to upset my Government, and, _en route_, drafting an announcement
that timber felled at Hawarden by his own hand would be on sale "at a
uniform charge, viz., 1s., 6d. for a small log, or 3s. per cubic foot,
exclusive of railway carriage." Of course I know that WILLIAM HENRY
has gallantly rushed into the breach, and avowed the authorship of
this remarkable proclamation. But if W. H. is allowed to do this kind
of thing without consultation or authority, all I can say is that
discipline at Hawarden is fatally faulty. Besides, amiable and
engaging as he is, I do not believe that W. H. is equal to the
unassisted concoction of this incomparable production. However it be,
no one but GL-DST-NE could stand the ridicule of the thing, and he
doubtless doesn't feel it.

How is GR-ND-LPH getting on? Not so well as he used, I fancy. His new
attitude of friendly neutrality does not suit him, and is, moreover,
not nearly so attractive with the people as what I may call his
Malayan manner, when he used to run amuck at everybody, including
myself. It was a very dull speech he made at Sunderland on Thursday.
He must certainly wake up, if he means to keep his old place. Perhaps
he is, like me, getting aweary of the whole thing, and wishes he were
well out of it. If I had my will, I would cut the whole business, and
spend my days and nights in the laboratory here. But that cannot be,
for the present at least. So you will hear from me soon in the midst
of the fray; and, in the meantime, mind you understand that I am in
the best of spirits, confident in the present, and hopeful for the

  Yours, faithfully,       S-L-SB-RY.

       *       *       *       *       *



  I've got such a hoddible cold id by head,
  Upod by word, I wish I was dead;
  I really thig I shall go to bed,
  Ad tallow by doze, as the Doctor said;
  He's cubig agaid this afterdood;
  Why, it's half-past three, he'll be here sood,
  Ad gib me sub bore of his beastly drugs,
  Ad tell me to keep warb udder the rugs.
            Achoo! Achoo!
            Oh! what shall I do?
  I've coughed ad sdeezed till I'be dearly blue,
            Ad by doze is so sore,
            I card blow it bore,
  It feels as tedder as if it was raw;
  Subbody told be he'd heard of sub stuff
  Which you'd odely to sdiff, ad that was eduff;
  What did he call it? Alkarab,
  I'll sedd for sub--I suppose it's a shab--
  They always are. Achoo! Achoo!
  I thig I'be dyig! Oh! what shall I do?
  Yes, this is the stuff that fellow said
  Was sure to cure a cold id the head;
  Two or three sdiffs the beggar swore
  Would bake you as well as you were before.
  (_He sniffs._) Upod my soul, I believe he's right,
  I'be gettig better--it's wonderful quite,
  I albost feel as if I bight
  Go out and dide at the Club to-dight.

  (_He continueth sniffing._)

  I really will, I feel quite well,
  As fresh as a rose, and as sound as a bell,
  And I'll always swear that the only balm
  For a cold in the head is Alkaram.
  "Here, JOHN, put out my evening clothes."
            I'll take my grub
            To-night at the Club.
  Soup, fish, and a bird, with a pint of Larose,
  I think that ought to complete the cure,
  And make assurance double sure.
            Achoo! Hullo!
            Why here's a go!
  Achoo! Atishoo! Oh dear! Oh dear!
  It's all begiddig agaid, I fear;
  You card get rid of a cold like bide
  By sbellig a bottle of bedicide!
            Soup ad fish! it's absurd,
            Or to thigk of a bird,
  When you card prodoudce a siggle word,
  Ad as for Larose, the tipple for be
  Is a cup of boilig lidseed tea.
            I'll go to bed,
            Ad wrap a red
  Welsh fladdel baddage roud by head,
  Ad stay at hobe for a budth at least,
  Till this beastly widd's do logger East.

  _South Kedsigtod._

       *       *       *       *       *



A Mob-Cap was once upon a time a picturesque finish to a pretty face,
and it was of home-manufacture. Now the Mob-Cap is a red abomination,
typical of bloodshed and crime, of foreign make, and is mis-called the
Cap of Liberty, which, properly translated, is the Cap of Licence. It
certainly is not "The Cap of Maintenance," as it is adopted by those
who would disdain work, even if it were offered them.

Not for the first time has _Mr. Punch_ raised his voice against Street
Processions, which have developed into one of the greatest nuisances
of the present time, destructive of trade, detrimental to every kind
of regular business, and a disgrace to our orderly and respectable
London. All processions in London ought to be prohibited, with the
exception of such State, Civic, or Ecclesiastical processions as may
be deemed essential to the dignity of authority, and which have been,
and still are, a source of real pleasure to the Londoners, who dearly
love a show, when there is due and proper occasion for it.

If the Salvationist Army processions, with their tambourines, drums,
and inharmonious bands, are permitted on Sunday (which English people
were wont to observe in peace and quietness), then consistently a
Socialist procession must be allowed. And what other processions?
Freemasons, Religious Guilds, Clubs,--why should not the members of
the Reform, the Athenæum, the Conservative, the National Liberal,
organise processions? Why not the Garrick Club, headed by Mr. HENRY
IRVING and Friend TOOLE, with banners emblazoned with playbills? No.
"Reform it altogether."

And as to the liberty of out-of-door public meetings. Let Trafalgar
Square be explicitly forbidden to these mischievous anarchists,
of whom the majority are the dupes and tools of firebrand foreign
Communists. Let certain places be allotted to them for "airing their
grievances," and let each of these places be at least four miles
distant from Charing-Cross. Our Parks are the "Lungs of London," and
if these Lungs be congested, the health of London will materially
suffer. How many hundreds are now prevented from entering the Parks by
the fear of King Mob and his rabble rout? Children and nursery-maids
dare not take their recreation in our Parks. Think of that, ye
Privates of the Cavalry and Infantry, and to a man you will be the
first to declare for the freedom of the Parks. Let one of the first
enactments of the next Session be a Bill to Regulate Processions and
Out-of-door Meetings. Let it be a liberal measure--in the true sense
of liberal; that is, showing due consideration for everybody--and let
it come into operation as soon as possible.


       *       *       *       *       *


Sir HENRY KNIGHT seems to be of opinion that luxurious living,
Aldermanic and otherwise, must be a good thing for the poor, because
"Money spent in entertainment goes into the pockets of the working
classes." If that is so, Dives, in order to benefit Lazarus, can
hardly do better than go on faring sumptuously every day. And yet
somehow, as a matter of fact, the more Dives feeds the more Lazarus
famishes. How is this, O Knight of the Round (Dinner) Table?

"Neither luxury, nor anything else," says the philosophical ex-Lord
Mayor, "can be indulged in without purchasing the materials which
contribute to or from which the luxury is obtained." _Argal_, the
more luxury among the rich the more money in the pockets of the poor.
Cheering thought!--for civic _gourmands_ and fashionable fine ladies!
Did not a great financier once suggest that England, which fought
itself into debt, might drink itself out of it? Here seems to be a
chance of eating ourselves out of poverty, of dining ourselves out of
destitution. Are there any real "Unemployed" about? Let those who have
money spend more of it in "entertainments" and the problem is solved
without recourse to Mansion House Funds, Public Works, Eight Hour
Movements, or other schemes philanthropical or revolutionary.

KNIGHT'S panacea for poverty, this proposal to cure it by
"entertainment," is certainly, in one sense, entertaining. But it is
to be feared that it can hardly be entertained.

       *       *       *       *       *



A GOOD PLAIN MISTRESS WANTED by a competent and highly experienced
Cook. Must be a thorough lady, accustomed to making herself generally
agreeable, and to not prying into household matters which do not
concern her. She will not be expected to visit her own kitchen,
inquire into the amount of her own weekly books, keep the key of
the beer, or object to the occasional visits of members of the local
Police Force, in which the advertiser has several near relatives. A
little dinner on a small scale now and then will not be objected
to, but seeing much company cannot for a moment be entertained. An
unexceptionable character from the three last cooks who have filled
the place, indispensable. Apply, M.B. Eligible Family Supply Agency,
Walker Street, W.


TRAVELLING NOBLEMAN WANTED. A Courier who has a slight acquaintance
with the French and German languages, and wishes to air them in the
course of a pleasant and enjoyable little outing, is desirous
of meeting with a well-recommended aristocrat of unquestionable
antecedents, who wishes to visit the leading towns of the Continent
in thoroughly first-class style. The advertiser, who would select the
routes, generally direct the character of the tour, and expect to have
charge of the cheque-book, would stipulate that under no circumstances
should any question be raised on the score of expense. None but
Noblemen of a confiding disposition, that can be vouched for by
testimonials from their near relatives, need apply. Communicate with
A. X., Eligible Family Supply Agency, Walker Street, W.


A REAL GENTLEMAN, who isn't too particular, wanted immediately by a
Coachman, who will, when sober, undertake to drive his carriage and
pair for him anywhere he likes about the Metropolis, and beyond,
without smashing him up. Mustn't be hasty and close over stable
expenses. Any quiet old duffer, who has been accustomed to let things
go their own way without interfering, preferred. Apply to JEHU,
Eligible Family Supply Agency, Walker Street, W.


A LADY OF TITLE WANTED by A COMPANION who would undertake to offer her
Society in consideration of sharing the carriage, home, recreations,
pleasures, friends, and general social _entourage_ of her employer.
As the Advertiser has for some years figured prominently as a garrison
hack, and has been somewhat blown upon in consequence, she will not be
too particular as to the character of the particular "Set" into which
her new surroundings may introduce her; but as she has, by outliving
her income, already run through the little money she possessed, she
will expect a salary of not less than £100 a year, to enable her to
dress up to the false position she has in contemplation to occupy.
No recognised old Dowagers, who live a quiet and retired life, need
answer this Advertisement. No references expected or offered. N. W.,
Eligible Family Agency, Walker Street, W.


SOFT-HEADED NOBLEMAN OR GENTLEMAN wanted by a shrewd, shifty, pushing,
out-at-elbows Adventurer, desirous of filling the post of Private
Secretary, and so worming himself into an assured position of intimate
family confidence. Would suit a Duke threatened with incipient
paralysis. Apply, DIPLOMATICUS, Eligible Family Supply Agency, Walker
Street, W.


CHEERFUL AND WILLING MISTRESS WANTED by an Under-Housemaid who wears
a fringe and latest form of Dress-Improver, and considers herself
generally attractive. State number of Men Servants, and furnish
particulars of the sort of society that may be expected down-stairs.
Advertiser will expect to receive her own friends on the afternoons of
not less than three days in each week. Mistress may refer to servants
at present staying in house, who can speak favourably as to her
character. Apply, HILDA, Eligible Family Supply Agency, Walker Street,


expect her to do her fair share of the work. Master must clean the
windows and his own boots, and as advertiser is not an early riser,
get up when necessary, and let in the sweeps. Entire Sundays expected
out and no interference with visits of the Marine Store Dealer.
Character Mutual. S. S. S., Eligible Family Supply Agency, Walker
Street, W.


THE ELIGIBLE FAMILY SUPPLY AGENCY undertake to provide exacting and
particular modern Domestics with thoroughly satisfactory Masters and


THE ELIGIBLE FAMILY SUPPLY AGENCY have at the present moment
applications from several Invalid Gentlemen who require care and
solicitude, and will be glad to hear from Widows with an eye to the
main chance, and "Superior" Housekeepers desirous of getting hold of
an unquestionably good thing.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: HAPPY THOUGHT.


_Grigsby (who has never been to Hampstead before)._ "_HEARD_ OF 'EM? I

       *       *       *       *       *


    "That this representative body of Working-men, representing
    the _bonâ fide_ Unemployed Workmen of the East and South-East
    of London, beg to place on record their entire want of
    sympathy, and their utter condemnation of the recent
    conduct which has been made in the name of the
    Unemployed."--_Resolution passed at a Meeting of
    Representative Workmen, held in Whitechapel, for the purpose
    "of considering the present position of the Unemployed
    Workmen, and the grave events of last week."_

    The Unemployed? Well, here I stand,
      Have stood for many weary weeks,
    With sinking heart and idle hand,
      Hunger's white ensign on my cheeks.
            I raise no howl
  Like yon plump ruffian with the bull-dog jowl;
  But the smug swells, with pleasure's honey cloyed,
  May see in me the real Unemployed!

    Oh, yes! this hand is used to work,
      The hardness has not left its palm.
    I'm no black-coated spouting shirk,
      Like him upon the tub there. Calm?
            By Heaven, I choke!
  Could I but fell the gang at one sharp stroke,
  Ranters who rail, and roughs who watch for spoil,
  'Twere one good blow in the true cause of Toil.

    How shall I make my poor Voice heard
      'Midst this brute shindy, brainless, mad?
    The slime-deeps of the town are stirred,
      All that's bloodthirsty, blatant, bad,
            Comes, surging up;
  And I--ah! I hang back and drain the cup
  Of bitter want in silence, blent with shame
  At this base smirching of a Man's good name.

    And then the cynic cacklers crow
      In their snug cushions; crow and cry:
    "Oh, the whole thing's a farce, you know.
      The old sham play of Poverty,
            Pushed just once more
  Upon the public boards. An awful bore!"
  So (whilst we starve) the well-fed idlers scoff
  At the spoilt tragedy, and cry, "Off! Off!"

    Ah! the sleek fops should take a turn
      At the long, weary foot-sore tramp,
    In search of work, till sick hearts burn,
      Till the cold flags or footways damp,
            Of London seem
  The endless mazes of some devilish dream,
  And tempting visions haunt the fevered head,
  Of the sharp knife-edge or the river's bed.

    Wrong? Oh, of course! Our duty lies,
      In dull endurance to the end.
    The faces pale, the pleading eyes,
      Of wife and children, looks that rend
            A fellow's heart,
  And make hot curses from his cold lips start,
  These should not madden men unto the pitch,
  Of _violent_ despair. So preach the rich!

    And yonder yelling fools contrive
      To lend some truth to Mammon's text.
    The laziest larrikin alive,
      With babbling tongue and braid perplext,
            Can help do _that_;
  Whilst I?--a broken head or beaten hat
  Will not so help me in my present state
  That I should greatly care to "demonstrate."

    Only if such a Voice as mine
      Could penetrate the public ear,
    Deafened with all this windy shine,
      And muddled 'twixt contempt and fear;
            I rather think
  I would tell some truths might make the scoffers shrink.
  But _I_ compete with yonder wolf-eyed brute?
  No; I can easier suffer and stand mute.

    If that's a strong, well-ordered state,
      Where tens of thousands like myself,
    With willing hands, must starve and wait,
      Whilst piles of swiftly growing pelf,
            Sweated from toil,
  Swell for the lords of capital and soil,
  Then--you may rear a city on foul slime,
  And build Society on want and crime.

    My Voice! Men will not listen--yet;
      And when they open ears at last,
    Bludgeon won't cure, nor bayonet.
      Meanwhile yon brayer at full blast
            Belies my cause,
  'Midst foolish jeers and foolisher applause;
  And preachers prose, and statesmen tinker on,
  And we--we starve in gold-choked Babylon!

       *       *       *       *       *

"My Nephew, who is very fond of pictures," said Mrs. RAM, "has
just purchased the finest Pot o' Jelly I have ever seen." Can it be
possible that the dear old lady meant Botticelli?

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: THE TWO VOICES.


       *       *       *       *       *


SCENE--_Trafalgar Square. Several thousand loafers and roughs
discovered asserting right of free speech, free meeting and free
procession. A few hundred genuine artisans out of work standing about
moodily. Lines of Policemen drawn up in reserve look on impassively._

_A Lover of Liberty._ As an Englishman, Sir, I'm disgusted--it's
_un-English_, that's what it is, "dragooning" an inoffensive assembly
like this! I _used_ to think freedom of speech and action was the
right of every Briton--but it seems we're to be overawed by the Police
now--confounded impertinence on the part of the Government, I call it!

[Illustration: "Hooky Walker!"

    "... The Leaders, H. George, _and the man whose name was said
    to be_ Walker, put up their coat-collars and sneaked away
    under the trees."--_Newspaper Report._

_An Orator (leaping suddenly on parapet)._ Feller Citizens, are you
_Men_ that you stand by with folded 'ands, while unlimited food and
wealth lays within a stone's throw? I want yer----

_Constables (behind)._ Ah, and we want _you_--off you go!

[_Disappearance of Orator in direction of Police-station._

_Lover of Liberty._ Shame! Is a man to be punished for his opinions?
Oh, England, England!

_Person in Search of Sensation (disappointedly)._ Well, there doesn't
seem much doing,--so far.

_Squalid Vagabond (recognising_ Stalwart Constable, _whom he has
apparently met before in a professional capacity_). 'Ow _are_ yer,
pretty bobbish?

[_Nods to show he bears no malice._

_Stalwart C. (good-humouredly)._ I'm much as usual, thankee.

_Companion Constable (to S. C.)._ Well, you _do_ know some rough 'uns,
I must say!

_Stalwart C._ Go on--that gentleman's a West-Ender.

_Professional "Hook" (to line of Policemen)._ So _you_'re 'ere, are
you? Well, me and my pal must take _our_ little prominade some hother
arternoon, that's all!

_Sympathiser (to Loafer)._ And so you've actually been out of
employment since last January? Monstrous! The Government ought to find
you work!

_Loafer._ Jes' what _I_ say, Guv'nor. Let 'em gimme work, and I'll
_do_ it fast enough. _I_ don't want ter be idle. I ain't on'y my one
trade to earn my bread by--but I'll work at that, if I'm let!

_Sympathiser._ Exactly, my poor fellow, and what _is_ your trade?

_Loafer._ Why, I'm a skate-fastener, I am; puts on parties' skates for
'em,--and 'ere I am--not 'ad a job for months!

_Truculent Ruffian (to Quiet Observer)._ Hunimployed?

_Quiet Obs._ Yes--at present.

_T. R._ Too many o' them bloomin' Coppers about, to _my_ mind--I'd
like to slug the lot--they're the ruin of _our_ bisness!

_Quiet Obs._ Ah, you're right _there_!

_Demagogue (to Police Sergeant)._ Now, don't you interfere--that's
all _I_ ask. _I'll_ speak to them--I have them thoroughly in hand
just now, but, if you offer them the least opposition, I--(_with much
solemnity_) well, I won't be responsible for what happens. (_He is
allowed to address the multitude._) Friends, you are met here in this
peaceful but imposing manner in the teeth of a brutal and overbearing
Constabulary, to show the bloated Capitalists, who are now trembling
behind their tills, that we mean to be taken seriously! Yes, in our
squalor and our rags----

[_Throws open frock-coat, and displays thick gold watch-chain._

_Mob._ Yah, pitch us over yer red slang! take orf that ere nobby coat!
Harristocrat! Yah!

_Dem. (complacently)._ It is true that I myself am not in absolute
destitution.--But what of that, my friends? Can I not _feel_----

[_Here a turnip strikes him in the eye. Yells of "Down with him!"
"Duck him!" "Spy!" "Traitor!" Mob pulls him down and attempts to take
him to pieces._

_Dem. (faintly)._ Here, hi, Policemen, help! Why the devil don't you
use your staves? [_Is rescued and assisted home by Police._

_A Rough (to Policeman)._ Keep moving? ah, _I'll_ move! [_Kicks him on
the knee-cap. Policeman draws truncheon and hits back._

_Crowd (indignantly)._ Boo! Coward! Strikin' a unarmed man--down with
'im! [_They beat brutal Constable to a jelly._

_The Truculent Ruffian (to Quiet Obs.)_ Are you game for a merry ole

_Quiet Obs._ You _try_ me--that's all!

_T. R._ Then, as them cowards of cops 'ave as much on their 'ands as
they kin do with, now's the time for a bit of a loot! Pass the word to
them mates o' yourn--"Pall Mall and no tyranny!"

_Quiet Obs._ I've done it--they're only waiting for _you._

_T. R. (suddenly producing red handkerchief)._ There--_now_, boys!
"Remember Mitchelstown and no brutal perlice!" Foller me!

_Quiet Obs. (arresting him)._ No, you'll follow us, please--you won't
do no good kicking, all right, mates, we've got him.

_T. R._ Oh, please, I didn't know you was a Policeman, Sir, or I
shouldn't ha' spoke! Strike me dead I was on'y in fun! (_Whimpers._)
And I've a good ole mother at 'ome, Sir.

_The Person in Search of Sensation._ What, another arrest? and simply
for showing a red handkerchief! I shall write and describe these
atrocities. How abominably these police are behaving--actually
defending themselves, the blackguards!

[_A Policeman accidentally lifts his arm, whereupon about fifty youths
scurry like rabbits; in the rush, the Person in search of Sensation
is hustled and slightly trampled on. He becomes annoyed, and hits out
right and left--eventually striking a Constable in his excitement._

_Const. (who has been without sleep for the last two days and has just
had his cheek laid open by a stone)._ 'Ere, you come along with me,
you're one of the wust, you are!

_The Person._ But I assure you, I just came to see what there was to
be seen!

_Const._ Well, you come along with me, and you'll see a Magistrit

[The Person _resists; struggle; arrival of reinforcements; exit party,
in "frog's-marching" order, conveying him to fresh sensations._

_The Lover of Liberty (emerging from crush)._ My hat ruined, my coat
split down the back, and my watch gone! I _told_ the crowd I was with
them heart and soul--and they hit me in the stomach! What do we keep
our police _for_, I want to know?

_Professional (emerging in opposite direction)._ Three red clocks, two
pusses, and a white slang, I ain't done so dusty! 'Ooray for the right
o' Free Meetin', _I_ sez!

_Genuine Unemployed (wearily)._ Well, I dunno as I see what good all
this 'ere is a goin' to do _hus_! [_And no more does Mr. Punch._

       *       *       *       *       *


(_Published without permission._)

_Stratford-on-Avon, October 18._--Speech at the Opening-of-Fountain
ceremony went very well. Some distinguished Americans were not there,
notably Mr. ABBEY. In consequence, had to omit all reference to "Abbey
Thought" and "Fountains Abbey," which, as J. L. T. suggested in his
letter, would have lightened the entertainment considerably. Also very
annoying, but I never thought of it till too late; I quite forgot to
say anything about BUFFALO BILL. CODY will be hurt; but I shall be in
America before he gets back there, so it doesn't much matter. Yet it
was a chance lost. WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE, WILLIAM CODY, Buffalo BILL,
Swan SHAKSPEARE. No matter, keep it for another time. And at the last
moment I could not make out what I had written on my wristband as a
mem. for speech. It was _à propos_ of Mr. CHILD'S gift. I see now
it was something about "Child's the father to the man." And then an
allusion to the sympathy between America and England as not being mere
"Child's-play." Very odd, how I forgot that. Still, speech couldn't
have gone better.

And how on earth I omitted to make any mention of Miss MARY ANDERSON I
can't understand! Yet the fact that this fair American is now playing
at the Lyceum ought to have stuck in my memory which yet holds its
seat in this distracted brain. And, dear me, there was the American
Minister present, and yet--bother it!--it never occurred to me, till
I was dressing this evening, hours afterwards, that I ought to have
remarked on the fact that America was represented here on this special
Dramatic occasion by a gentleman bearing a name so honoured alike by
English and American actors, and so dear to the theatrical profession
as must always be that of "PHELPS." But this will keep, too, for
another time. And, after all, in spite of these omissions, which of
course nobody noticed, the speech went admirably.

       *       *       *       *       *

Nottingham v. Sunderland.

  "There's _no_ Liberal Party!" cries GRANDOLPH the bold.
    "Hooray!" shout the Tories, "the straightest of shots!"
  But the faithful who flock to the G. O. M.'s fold.
    Say, "Our old party bonds are re-tied now--in _Notts_!"

       *       *       *       *       *


[Illustration: _Auctioneer._ "FINE CHIPS OF THE OLD BLOCK, GENTLEMEN!
AT ONCE!" (_Laughter and Cheers._) "NOW THEN,--FIFTEEN SHILLINGS, TEN
PRICE!" [_Auction Continues._]

       *       *       *       *       *


SIR,--Excellent as is the suggestion of your Correspondent, "ONE WHO
WOULD ELEVATE THEM," that the Unemployed should be forthwith put into
the hands of some competent Ballet-Master, and after a proper course
of instruction, despatched to all the Board Schools in England for
the purpose of teaching every pupil who has passed the Sixth Standard,
dancing and deportment, yet I do not think he goes far enough.
Why stop at this comparatively subordinate art? Why not make them
musicians, teach them to play WAGNER, and despatch them straightway
through the length and breadth of the land as enthusiastic Apostles of
the great Master? What a glorious prospect to turn the three or four
thousand idle loafers who have lately been hulking about Trafalgar
Square for the purpose of breaking the peace, into a mighty army of
skilled fiddlers eager to wake the glad strains of the spirit-stirring
Music of the Future in every quiet village green through the three
Kingdoms. And the accomplishment of such a task need not be set aside
as the wild vision of some hopeless dreamer. I am convinced, Sir, that
if the authorities of the Royal College and Guildhall School of
Music, but set their shoulders to the wheel, the thing will soon be an
accomplished fact. Such, Sir, at all events, is the opinion of one who
believes firmly in


SIR,--Why not paint the whole of London, public buildings and
all?--I'm sure they want it. The latter might be done in different
colours. St. Paul's, for instance, might be orange, Westminster Abbey
pea-green, and the Houses of Parliament a bright blue. If the effect
were found unsatisfactory, fresh colours could be tried, until
something were hit upon that should be considered suitable. This
would afford the additional advantage of providing fresh work for the
Unemployed. I don't see what else can be done. Everybody can use a
brush, and with a couple, or say, three coats all over the Metropolis,
there would be plenty to occupy everybody for the next six months.
As to expense, an extra 15s. tacked on to the rates would soon settle
that, and I'll be bound there's many a householder willing to face
that trifling alternative, together with

  Yours, practically, one who takes

SIR,--I cannot but think that, if BUFFALO BILL were to introduce
the "Unemployed" into his Show, he would score a big success. The
introduction might take the shape of a contest between the "Wild East"
and the "Wild West." The former might be armed with brickbats and
park-railings, and the latter with their usual weapons; and, were it
known that a little genuine blood would be drawn in the entertainment,
it might be safely counted on to draw all London. I throw out the
suggestion for what it is worth.

  Your obedient servant,

SIR,--As at the present season of the year nothing is more common than
to find the stalls of most of the leading West-End theatres empty, a
fact which has a very chilling effect on the efforts of the players,
why not fill the empty places with the so-called "Unemployed"? A warm
bath, a suit of evening clothes, clean shirt, and white tie would
instantly fit the veriest outcast that has recently come into
collision with the police in Hyde Park or elsewhere, at least
outwardly, for the social atmosphere of the place. A central committee
might at once be inaugurated for the supply of these necessary
preliminaries for admission, and a thousand or two excellent
substitutes for the ordinary _habitués_ forthwith launched nightly
among what is at the present moment left of the fashionable play-going
world in the Metropolis. The advantage would cut both ways. Not only
would the Management be blessed by the appearance of a perfectly
full house, but the loafers, professional thieves, and ruffians who
produced it would, no doubt, endeavour to play up to their clothes and
surroundings, and, on receipt of a small retaining-fee of 3s. 6d. a
head for their attendance, be proportionately softened and civilised
by the process. This, Sir, seems to me a very legitimate, humane, and
philosophical method of dealing with the present crisis, and as such I
trust it will as powerfully recommend itself to your readers as it has

  Yours thoughtfully,

SIR,--What are the authorities about that they do not at once embank
the river on both sides up to Richmond, and span it with five bridges
between this and Gravesend? Then there's the whole of Piccadilly
to come down and be rebuilt with the road properly levelled, to
say nothing of a great Central Terminus in Soho Square uniting the
Midland, North and Great Western, Great Northern with the Great
Eastern, and all the Great Southern lines. Add to this, that the
entire gas-piping of the Metropolis ought to come up bodily, and make
way for the installation of the Electric Light, to say nothing of the
fixing in all the leading thoroughfares of overhead railways on the
New York principle, and you have enough work at least to begin upon
and meet the present crisis. Let the Board of Works and the various
Vestries set to work at once, and as soon as Parliament assembles
let it be asked to vote Five-hundred Millions towards preliminary
expenses. This, Sir, is, I am convinced, the only reasonable and
efficient way of dealing with the present unsatisfactory aspect of the
labour question. Such is the opinion of

  Yours energetically,

SIR,--When the Police have fairly and effectually cleared off the
loafers, not-do-a-stroke-of-work gentry, and the sedition-mongers,
then we can turn our attention to the wants of the genuine Unemployed.
Their case is by no means beyond us. It only needs the active and
intelligent co-operation among the administrators of charitable funds
and agencies, the Poor-Law Authorities, employers of labour, and
others, to give immediate and practical effect to the wide-spread
sympathy felt for them by all classes of their more fortunate
fellow-countrymen, including your quite sober-minded and
charitably-disposed Correspondent,


       *       *       *       *       *


(_A Speech summarised in a Stanza._)

AIR--"_Darby and Joan._"

  DERBY, dear, I am old and grey,
  Fifty-five years since my opening day,
  "Ins" and "Outs" are for every one
    As the world goes round.
  Derby, dear, I must fain admit
  I've altered my mind, just a little bit.
  But I learnt freedom's lesson in Forty-five,
  And I mean to be true to it whilst I'm alive.
          Always the same,
            Derby, my own,
          Always the same
            Is your old GLADSTONE!

       *       *       *       *       *


Within the last half-century, the education of actors has advanced in
an extraordinary degree, inasmuch as some have been known to take
a degree, or try to, at the University. Therefore the following
advertisement in the _Era_ will probably cause little surprise:--

    WANTED, for La Comédie Anglaise, a Light Comedian, for a few
    Weeks, while a Member of the Company returns to Oxford to take
    his degree. Must be a gentleman. Address, &c.

This gentleman, to use the language of the _Era_, seems inclined to
"combine leading business with general utility." It is to be hoped he
will get his degree, and return to be an ornament to the stage. But if
this kind of thing goes on, we shall probably eventually see announced
in our theatrical contemporary--"Senior Wrangler and Light Comedian
open to engagement in first-class Company."

       *       *       *       *       *

"THE REVERSIBLE PEN-CLEANER," recently invented by DE LA RUE & CO.,
will be most useful to Leader-writers, Politicians, Journalists, and
everybody in the habit of using "reversible pens," or pens that can
write equally well on both sides. Such pens must occasionally require
cleaning; and to be cleaned in this pad they must remain upright.


"A WINTER'S TALE."--That of poverty and distress, which we must do our
best to relieve.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: MIDDLE AGE.



       *       *       *       *       *

EUTHANASIA.--In a certain Western newspaper we read the following
startling announcement, in relation to the decease of a certain lady
whose obituary notice appears in its columns:--

    "More or less an invalid for a considerable time past,
    latterly she has been under the care of Mr. ---- and Mr. ----,
    and her death was not therefore altogether unexpected."

What a lift for the two Medicos mentioned! They, no doubt, are now
blessing that Western Editor for inserting this gratuitous tribute
to their curative skill. Their motto for the future should
be--"_Removals_ conducted with punctuality and dispatch."

       *       *       *       *       *




What a strange, unreal, almost incomprehensible life must that of
a City Alderman be at the present time. Regarded in the light of
centuries ago, it all seems in accordance with the fitness of things,
and neither ludicrous nor out of place. But now, in these days of
earnestness and common sense, what a great sham it seems to the merely
superficial observer, and yet, however great an anomaly it may appear,
when tested by results it seems to work fairly well.

Suppose we take Mr. Alderman SLOCOACH as an example. He was taken from
his warehouse, some years ago, and made an Alderman by the votes
of some three or four hundred of the rate-payers of his Ward, the
majority of whom knew little or nothing about him, and probably
cared less, and in a week or two, he found himself seated on the
Magistrate's Bench at Guildhall, to declare the Law, of which he
literally knew nothing, and to administer Justice under circumstances
so apparently absurd as to be hardly credible. Being probably a
conscientious man, and knowing his utter ignorance of the duties
that his position demanded of him, what was he to do? What he did was
probably the best he could do under the circumstances, and thinking,
as he told an old friend with whom he conversed on the matter, that it
was better, as err he must, to err on the side of mercy, he made it a
point always to consult the Clerk of the Court, and whatever amount of
punishment he advised him to inflict, he generally halved it.

Having long since got thoroughly accustomed to the whole matter, and
having acquired a certain amount of dignity of demeanour, he is able
to go through the wondrous ceremony with comparative ease, but is
still greatly troubled with certain qualms of conscience in certain
special cases. For instance, when fining a poor working-man five
shillings for drunkenness,--he having met an old friend and been
persuaded to take more than was good for him,--and that amount
probably constituting a full day's income, his thoughts will revert
to that particularly jovial banquet with his worshipful Company
the previous evening, and whether some one or two of the guests not
sufficiently seasoned to these matters, were not quite as guilty as
the poor workman he had just fined, and how they would like to have to
pay a day's income for this folly, amounting in one case to probably
£100! and yet possibly the workman had the better excuse of the two!
And then, again, there is that very awkward and puzzling question,
that so troubles some of his more conscientious brethren as well as
himself, that of punishment for gambling. When inflicting some of
those very heavy fines and penalties, which he is told it is his
bounden duty to do in the case of betting in public houses, his
thoughts must revert to those two most intimate friends of his who are
regular visitors at TATTERSALL'S in the height of the racing season;
and also to the fact that he himself, as his stock-broker well knows,
after leaving the Bench, occasionally wends his way to Capel Court,
and buys or sells for the account to very very large amounts; and,
though he probably tries his best, as others do, to convince himself
that there is no doubt a very great difference between the cases
of Mr. BUNG and Mr. TATTERSALL, and between playing cards for
half-crowns, and buying or selling £50,000 Consols for the account, it
was not until his conscience had lost its natural elasticity that he
succeeded, and, even now its twinges are, occasionally, very sharp.

When Alderman SLOCOACH was first elected to his high position, his
great delight was to attend at the Old Bailey, and occupy a seat on
the judicial Bench, and enjoy the supreme satisfaction of feeling
that, without his absolutely useless presence, the whole proceedings
must necessarily come to a stand-still, and fond memory still looks
back to the occasion on which one of Her MAJESTY'S Judges actually
said to him, in quite a friendly manner, "Shall _we_ say twelve
or fifteen months, Alderman?" On the other hand, he will probably
remember, to his dying day, the look of mingled anger and contempt
with which he was received by another of Her MAJESTY'S Judges, of
rather irascible temper, when he rushed breathless into Court, having,
by his absence, delayed the proceedings for more than an hour.

Naturally, the one particular event to which an Alderman looks forward
with the most especial anticipations of honour and renown, is the
year of his Mayoralty, when he will have his otherwise humble name
associated with those of the famous men who, in very different times
to those in which we live, ruled the great City, with courage and

Much, however, depends upon the public events of his year of office,
as to its importance, or want of it, to himself personally, and Mr.
Alderman SLOCOACH was not particularly fortunate in that respect.
There was no European Monarch on a visit to this country, whom the
Corporation was requested by the Government to honour, with the
customary satisfactory result to the Lord Mayor of the day; there was
no public ceremonial of unusual importance that required the brilliant
surroundings of Civic pomp to give it full _éclat_, and as his year of
office approached its termination, his solemn look became more solemn,
and his hopes evidently grew fainter and fainter. But fortune was kind
to him, and a change of Government, which made it desirable to gain
the City's sweet voices, brought him the coveted honour.

Like most of his colleagues who have what is technically called
"passed the Chair," he takes things very coolly, probably thinking
that nothing remains to be done after having passed through such an
ordeal. But there is one especial duty still left for Aldermen to
perform from which he is seldom absent. They have been deprived of
their control over prisons, and of their government of the Royal
Hospitals, their control of the Police is almost nominal, but they
still have charge of City Lunatics, and it is said that Alderman
SLOCOACH is seldom absent from the official visits to them, when the
reciprocity of feeling manifested between the poor patients and their
visitor is described as quite touching. He is also often seen at City
Banquets, and is always quite ready to return thanks for what he calls
the Grand Old Corporation, and repeats with painful iteration the old
bit of twaddle about the infallibility of Aldermanic judgments and
the increasing popularity of their order; but he is wonderfully
good-natured, devotes a great deal of time to the gratuitous
performance of public duties, assists very efficiently in brightening
up many an otherwise dull scene with the brilliancy of his handsome
scarlet robe, and would, with his worshipful Brethren, be much missed
if deprived of those civic functions that have been performed by them,
and such as they, for many centuries past, and which entitle them in
all respects to the esteem of their fellow citizens as a trustworthy,
sober and honourable body of men.

       *       *       *       *       *


Sir F. ABEL, the organising Secretary of the Imperial Institute,
recently issued a very agreeable and pleasing memorandum to the
Chairmen of Provincial Committees and others who have assumed an
active part in support of the undertaking. After describing the
"large measure of success" that has attended the efforts of the local
Committees throughout the country, Sir FREDERICK goes on to say that
a "considerable number" of them have "signified their willingness
to prolong their operations with the especial object of obtaining
additions to the 'Endowment Fund' of the Institute which is about to
be created." This is but natural. Taking into consideration the fact
that in many quarters a handsome subscription to the funds of the
Institute has been regarded as a sure passport to honour, and that
the non-distribution of titles right and left among a lot of
small provincial celebrities has already occasioned a good deal of
heartburning and disappointment, this new lease of life, affording
them, as it does, a fresh opportunity of struggling for their
much-coveted prize, cannot but be hailed by the yet unsatisfied
"Chairmen of Provincial Committees and others" with genuine joy and

That plain Mr. JOHN BOPKINS, or Mr. PETER PICKLETUB, Mayor, should
suddenly blossom out into Sir JOHN BOPKINS, and, possibly, Sir PETER
PICKLETUB, Bart., would only seem to those indefatigable gentlemen an
appropriate finish to their labours in furtherance of the interests
of the Institute. Their readiness, therefore, to prolong their
operations, as it may be measured by the fact that it will have the
special object not only of "procuring additions" to the Endowment
Fund, but also of tacking them on to their own names, is likely to
be both hearty and enthusiastic. Whether anything will come of their
hopeful perseverance, remains to be seen; but it is tolerably certain
that if some sort of bureau for the sale of decorations, after the
latest French model, could be instituted on this side of the Channel,
there would be no lack of clients ready to besiege it. But----we
manage these things much better in England.

       *       *       *       *       *

When the Deputation waited on him, Mr. MATTHEWS was the "Not-at-Home
Secretary." Quite right too.

       *       *       *       *       *

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

       *       *       *       *       *

Transcriber's Notes

A small number of minor typographical errors have been corrected.

*** End of this Doctrine Publishing Corporation Digital Book "Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 93, October 29, 1887" ***

Doctrine Publishing Corporation provides digitized public domain materials.
Public domain books belong to the public and we are merely their custodians.
This effort is time consuming and expensive, so in order to keep providing
this resource, we have taken steps to prevent abuse by commercial parties,
including placing technical restrictions on automated querying.

We also ask that you:

+ Make non-commercial use of the files We designed Doctrine Publishing
Corporation's ISYS search for use by individuals, and we request that you
use these files for personal, non-commercial purposes.

+ Refrain from automated querying Do not send automated queries of any sort
to Doctrine Publishing's system: If you are conducting research on machine
translation, optical character recognition or other areas where access to a
large amount of text is helpful, please contact us. We encourage the use of
public domain materials for these purposes and may be able to help.

+ Keep it legal -  Whatever your use, remember that you are responsible for
ensuring that what you are doing is legal. Do not assume that just because
we believe a book is in the public domain for users in the United States,
that the work is also in the public domain for users in other countries.
Whether a book is still in copyright varies from country to country, and we
can't offer guidance on whether any specific use of any specific book is
allowed. Please do not assume that a book's appearance in Doctrine Publishing
ISYS search  means it can be used in any manner anywhere in the world.
Copyright infringement liability can be quite severe.

About ISYS® Search Software
Established in 1988, ISYS Search Software is a global supplier of enterprise
search solutions for business and government.  The company's award-winning
software suite offers a broad range of search, navigation and discovery
solutions for desktop search, intranet search, SharePoint search and embedded
search applications.  ISYS has been deployed by thousands of organizations
operating in a variety of industries, including government, legal, law
enforcement, financial services, healthcare and recruitment.