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Title: Punch, or the London Charivari, November 25, 1893
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, November 25, 1893" ***

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       *       *       *       *       *

Punch, or the London Charivari

Volume 105, November 25th 1893

_edited by Sir Francis Burnand_

       *       *       *       *       *



POPULAR SONGS RE-SUNG.--"AFTER THE BALL."

    [The authors of the various versions of this "popular song"
    will not, _Mr. Punch_ is sure, object to its refrain being
    used in a far wider sense--being applied, so to speak, to a
    more extensive _sphere_--than they contemplated.]

[Illustration]

  Man, youth or maiden, amateurs, pros.,
  Season of snow-storms, time of the rose,
  'Tis the same story all have to tell!
  Not even KIPLING'S go half as well.
  Nay: and _this_ story is real and true.
  All England over, Colonies too,
  Cricketers, golfers, footballers, all
  One pursuit follow--they're After the Ball!

  _Chorus_--

    After one ball-game's over,
      Promptly the next seems born;
    Quickly the Blackburn Rover
      Treads on the "Corn Stalk's" corn.
    GRACE, GUNN, and READ, the Brothers
      RENSHAW, fall off with the Fall;
    But there come hosts of others--
        After the Ball!

  Lords and the Oval, crowded and bright,
  Send King Willow's subjects wild with delight.
  What are they doing 'midst shout and cheer?
  Smiting and chasing a small brown sphere!
  Fielded. Sir! Well hit!! Played, _indeed!!!_ Wide!!!!
  Oh, well returned, Sir! Caught! No! _Well_ tried!
  Cheering! Half-maddened! And what means it all?
  Grown men grown boys again--After the Ball!

  _Chorus_--

    Sixer, or maiden over,
      Misfield that moves young scorn,
    Every true cricket-lover
      Stares at from early morn.
    Watching the "champion" scoring,
      Ring and pavilion, all
    Chattering, cheering, roaring,
        After the Ball!

  Then in October's chill and gloom,
  Wickets for goals make reluctant room.
  Talk is of "forwards," and "backs," and "tries."
  "_Footbawl Herdition!_" the newsboy cries.
  Fancy _that_, for a sportsman's fad!
  Players go frantic, and critics mad;
  Pros. and amateurs squabble and squall,
  And cripples seek hospital--After the Ball!

  _Chorus_--

    After the Ball the "Rovers"
      Rush, and the "Villans" troop;
    "Wolves"--who have lamb-like lovers--
      Worry and whirl and whoop.
    Scrimmages fierce, wild jostles,
      Many a crashing fall,
    Follow as "Blade" hunts "Throstle,"
      After the Ball!

  Balls are not all of leather, alas!
  Cricket, golf, tennis, and football pass;
  But ROBERTS the marvellous, PEALL the clever,
  Like the Laureate's Brook, can go on for ever!
  The ivory ball--like the carvings odd
  In a Buddhist shrine--seems an ivory god;
  And "A Million Up" will be next the call
  Of the "exhibitionists"--After the Ball!

  _Chorus_--

    After the Ball is over?
      Nay, it is _never_ done!
    All the year round _some_ lover
      Keeps up the spheric fun!
    Ivory ball or leather,
      Someone will run or sprawl,
    Whate'er the hour or weather,
        After the Ball!

  Is't that our earth, which, after all,
  Itself's a "dark terrestrial ball,"
  Robs all "sportsmen" of sober sense
  Within its "sphere of influence"?
  "Special Editions" just to record
  How many kicks at a ball are scored?!?!
  Doesn't it prove that we mortals all
  Have gone sheer "dotty"--After the Ball?

  _Chorus_--

    After the Ball!--as batter,
      Handler of club, racquet, cue.
    Or kicker of goals--what matter?
      A Ballomaniac you!
    Each is as mad as a hatter,
      Who is so eager to sprawl,
    Scrimmage, scout, smash, smite, clatter,
        After the Ball!

       *       *       *       *       *

THE HEIGHT OF COMFORT.

_Q._ I want to consult you about Flats. You must know all about them,
as you have tried this kind of "high life" for a year. And I am quite
charmed with the idea of getting one. Now, don't you find that they
have many advantages over the old-fashioned separate house system?

_A._ Oh, a great many!

_Q._ I suppose that even in such paradises a few drawbacks do exist?

_A._ A few. For instance, did you notice, during your painful progress
upstairs, a doctor coming out of the rooms just below us? No? Then you
were fortunate. There's a typhoid case there, we hear.

_Q._ Dear me! Now I think of it, I did meet a woman dressed as a
hospital nurse. But she was coming down from somewhere above you.

_A._ Yes. The people over our heads. It's a scarlet fever patient they
have, I believe. We can hear the nurse moving about in the middle
of the night. And chemists' boys with medicines call at our door, by
mistake, at all hours.

_Q._ Still, they can't get in. Your flat is your castle, surely?

_A._ Quite so. It's a pity it isn't a roomier castle. Our bedrooms are
like cupboards, and look out on a dark court. We have to keep the gas
burning there all day.

_Q._ Oh, indeed! But then, being on one floor, living must be much
cheaper, because you can do with only one servant?

_A._ That is true; but we find that the difficulty is to get servants
to do with us. They hate being mastheaded like this; they miss the
area, and the talks with the tradesmen, and so on.

_Q._ But they must go downstairs to take dust and cinders away?

_A._ No, those go down the shoot. At least, a good many of the cinders
do, though some seem to stop on the way. Our downstair neighbours
complain horribly, and threaten to summon us.

_Q._ Do they? On the whole, however, you find your fellow-residents
obliging?

_A._ Oh, very! The landing window leads to some disputes. We like it
open. The people upstairs prefer it shut. The case comes on at the
police court next week.

_Q._ You surprise me! Then, as regards other expenses, you save, don't
you, by paying no rates?

_A._ We do. That is why our landlord charges us for these eight rooms
on one floor just double what we should have to pay for a large house
all to ourselves.

_Q._ Thanks for giving me so much information. Of course, I knew there
must be some disadvantages. And you won't be surprised to hear that we
have taken a flat after all, as they are so fashionable?

_A._ On the contrary, I should be quite surprised if you didn't.

       *       *       *       *       *

WELCOME TO "JOEY!"

[Illustration: "HERE WE ARE AGAIN!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: SAD!

_Sportsman_ (_proud of his favourite_). "NOW THAT'S A MARE I _MADE_
ENTIRELY MYSELF! MARVELLOUSLY CLEVER, I CAN TELL YOU!"

_Non-Sportsman_ (_from town, startled_). "EH, WHAT? DEAR ME!
WONDERFULLY CLEVER, CERTAINLY." (_Mentally._) "POOR FELLOW, POOR
FELLOW! WHAT A MOST EXTRAORDINARY HALLUCINATION!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

HOME RAILS.

(_By a Mournful Moralist._)

  Each day my heart with pity throbs;
    Can sympathy refuse
  The ready tears, the frequent sobs,
    When reading City news?

  Not long ago I daily found
    That you were good and "strong"--
  You gained but little, I'll be bound,
    Nor kept that little long;

  Yet I was happy, since it meant
    That, for a blissful term,
  You were so very excellent,
    So "steady" and so "firm."

  Prosperity brings pride to all;
    You rose too high to sell.
  Then--pride must always have a fall--
    You lamentably fell.

  Think what your altered state has cost.
    Alas, you must confess
  That you are ruined since you lost
    Your noble steadiness!

  "Unsettled" then--oh, feeble will!--
    "Inactive" you were too.
  There's Someone "finds some mischief still
    For idle hands to do."

  "Why be inactive? All should work.
    Rise then, and do not seek
  Good honest enterprise to shirk,
    Because you're rather "weak."

  Alas, what use exhorting that
    Your fall you should annul?
  When some remark that you are "flat,"
  And others call you "dull."

  At times I hoped that you would turn,
    And mend your evil ways,
  That you were "better," I would learn,
    And "quiet" on some days.

  But now your baseness fitly ends,
    "Irregular"--and so
  You are "neglected" by your friends,
    Who all pronounce you "low."

  This conduct gives me such a shock,
    I wipe my streaming eyes--
  I want to sell some railway stock;
    I'm waiting for the rise!

       *       *       *       *       *

THE "ULTRA FASHIONABLE DINNER-HOUR" WHEN DICKENS WROTE _MARTIN
CHUZZLEWIT_.--It is mentioned by _Montague Tigg_, when that typical
swindler gives _Jonas Chuzzlewit_ an invitation to a little dinner.
It was "seven." Very few have guessed it, but most correspondents have
referred to the dinner-hour at _Todgers's_. But _Todgers's_ was a very
second-class establishment.

SOMEBODY proposes another Dickensian query:--SCENE--_The wedding at
Wardle's._ TIME--_After the wedding breakfast:_--"At dinner they met
again, after a five-and-twenty-mile walk." Where did they breakfast,
and where did they dine, and how many hours did men of _Mr.
Pickwick's_ and _Mr. Tupman's_ build take to do a twenty-five-mile
walk in?

       *       *       *       *       *

THE GOLFER'S PARADISE.--_Link_-ed sweetness long drawn out.

       *       *       *       *       *

THE REAL ROADS TO SUCCESS.--CECIL RHODES.

       *       *       *       *       *

REX LOBENGULA.

    ["Rhymes are difficult things, they are stubborn things,
    Sir."--FIELDING: _Amelia_.]

  LOBENGÚLA! LOBENGÚLA!
    How do you pronounce your name?
  How do those who call you ruler
    Your regality proclaim?

  Does the stalwart Matabele
    Seared with many a cruel scar,
  Ere he gives his life so freely,
    Hail you King LOBENGULÁ?

  Have I read in British journals,
    On a 'bus _en route_ to Holborn,
  Telegrams where British Colonels
    Have the cheek to call you LÓ-BEN?

  Has your name some fearful meaning
    Redolent of blood and bones,
  Or am I correct in weening
    It's vernacular for JONES?

  Kaiser! Potentate! Dictator!
    Any title that's sublime
  Choose, but send us cis-equator
    For your name the proper rhyme.

       *       *       *       *       *

AFTER THE CALL.

    ["A further call of £5 per share has recently been made on the
    shareholders in one of the companies in the Balfour group."]

  After the call is over,
    What is there left to do,
  All absolutely vanished,
    Left not a single sou.
  Furniture, trinkets, money,
    Gone, gone, alas! are they all;
  What is there left but the workhouse
      After the call?

       *       *       *       *       *

UNDER THE ROSE.

(_A Story in Scenes._)

SCENE XV.--_The Drawing-room at Hornbeam Lodge._ TIME--_Monday
evening, about six._ ALTHEA _is listlessly striking chords on the
piano_; Mrs. TOOVEY _is sitting by one of the windows_.

_Mrs. Toovey_ (_to herself_). Where _did_ THEOPHILUS go last Saturday?
He is either the most consummate hypocrite, or the most blameless lamb
that ever breathed; and I'm sure _I_ don't know which! But I'll find
out when CHARLES comes. It would be almost a relief to find Pa _was_
guilty; for, if he isn't---- But, thank goodness, he is not very
likely ever to hear where _I_ was that evening!

_Althea_ (_to herself_). It couldn't _really_ have been Mamma in that
box; she has never made the slightest reference to it. I almost wish
she _had_ been there; it would have been easier to tell her. What
_would_ she say if she knew I had gone to such a place as the
Eldorado?

    [_She drifts, half unconsciously, into the air of_ "The Hansom
    Cabman."

_Mrs. Toov._ What is that tune you are playing, THEA?

_Alth._ (_flushing_). N--nothing, Mamma. Only a tune I heard when I
was in town. The--the boys in the street whistle it.

_Mrs. Toov._ Then it's hardly fit to be played upon _my_ piano.
I shouldn't wonder if it came out of one of those abominable
music-halls!

_Alth._ (_to herself_). She must mean something by that. If she was
there after all! (_Aloud, distressed._) Mamma, what makes you say
that? Do--do you _know_?

_Mrs. Toov._ (_in equal confusion_). Know! Explain yourself, child.
How could I possibly----? (_To herself._) I shall betray myself if I
am not more careful!

_Alth._ I--I thought--I don't know--it was the way you said it. (_To
herself._) I very nearly did for myself _that_ time!

_Mrs. Toov._ (_as_ ALTHEA _strikes more chords_). For goodness' sake,
THEA, either play a proper piece, or shut up the piano and take up
some useful work. There's the crazy-quilt I've begun for the Bazaar;
you might get on with that.

_Alth._ (_closing the piano_). The colours _are_ so frightful, Mamma!

_Mrs. Toov._ What does that signify, my dear? When it's for a charity!
Really, I'm beginning to think this visit to town has not had at all
a good effect upon you. You've come back unable to settle down to
anything. Yes, I see a great change in you, ALTHEA, and it's not
confined to the worldly way you do your hair. I sincerely hope it will
not strike Mr. CURPHEW as it does me. You know he is dining here this
evening? I told him in my note that if he _liked_ to come a little
earlier----(_Significantly._) I think he has something to say to you,
THEA. Perhaps you can guess what?

_Alth._ (_twisting her hands nervously_). Oh no, Mamma. I--I can't see
Mr. CURPHEW--not alone, I mean.

_Mrs. Toov._ Don't be ridiculous, my dear. You know perfectly well
that he admires you. He has very properly spoken first to your
father, and we both consider you a most fortunate girl. He is a truly
excellent young man, which is the _first_ consideration; and, what
is even _more_ important, he is, as far as I can gather, making an
excellent income. And you can't deny that you were interested in him
from the very first.

_Alth._ N--not in that way, Mamma. At least, not any longer.

_Mrs. Toov._ Nonsense. If Mr. CURPHEW proposes, I shall be seriously
annoyed if you put him off with any foolish shilly-shallying. Mind
that. And here he is--at least, it's _somebody_ at the front door.
I've mislaid my glasses as usual. And if it is Mr. CURPHEW, I shall
send him in here at once; so remember what I've said. (_She goes out
into the hall, and discovers her nephew_ CHARLES.) So it is _you_,
CHARLES! You're rather earlier than I expected.

_Charles._ Nothing much doing at the office, Aunt. And I thought I
might have to dress for dinner, you know.

_Mrs. Toov._ You ought to know by this time that we are plain people
and do not not follow the senseless fashion of dressing ourselves
up for a family dinner, but I am glad you came early, all the same,
CHARLES, as I should like a little talk with you before your Uncle
comes in. We had better go into the study. (_To herself, as she leads
the way._) Now I shall get it out of him!

END OF SCENE XV.

[Illustration: "Dear, dear me!"]


SCENE XVI.--_In the Study._

_Mrs. Toovey_ (_fixing_ CHARLES _with her eye_). What is this I hear
of your proceedings last Saturday night, CHARLES? Come, you can't
deceive _me_, you know!

_Charles._ I never made any secret about my proceedings. I told Uncle
we might probably drop into the Eldorado or somewhere after dinner.

_Mrs. Toov._ (_to herself, in consternation_). The Eldorado? they
_did_ go there then! If only they didn't see me! (_Aloud._) Yes,
CHARLES, go on. And while you were there, did you see anyone you--you
thought you recognised?

_Charles_ (_to himself_). She's heard! (_Aloud._) I should rather
think I _did_, Aunt. Never was more surprised in my life.

_Mrs. Toov._ (_with a groan_). And--and was your _Uncle_ surprised,
too, CHARLES?

_Charles._ Uncle? I haven't told _him_ yet.

_Mrs. Toov._ But he was _there_, CHARLES, with you; he must have
seen--whatever you did! Or didn't he?

_Charles._ At the Valhalla? my _dear_ Aunt!

_Mrs. Toov._ Who's talking about a Valhalla? I mean the _Eldorado_, of
course; that was where you _said_ you went!

_Charles._ No--no, we couldn't get in at the El.; all the stalls gone,
so we went to the Val. instead. Just the same sort of thing.

_Mrs. Toov._ (_to herself, relieved_). To the Val.! What a fright I've
had for nothing! (_Aloud._) I quite understand, CHARLES. You took
your Uncle to a place called the Val., _not_ the--er--El. What did you
_see_ there? that's the point!

_Charles._ I didn't take Uncle there; I was with a man from our office
when I saw him. I must have seen him there often enough, but somehow
I never spotted him before. It was the make-up, the _disguise_, you
know, wig and moustache, and all that.

_Mrs. Toov._ Do you mean to say your Uncle attends music-halls
disguised in a wig and moustache? CHARLES, who was he _with_? I _will_
know!

_Charles_ (_in fits of laughter_). Uncle? At the Val. in disguise?
now, is it _likely_? I thought you knew all about it, or I shouldn't
have said a word!

_Mrs. Toov._ You have said too much to stop _now_, CHARLES. It
is useless to try to turn it off like that. If it was not Pa you
recognised at this Val. place, who _was_ it?

_Charles_ (_to himself_). If I don't tell her she'll only go on
suspecting poor old Uncle THEO. (_Aloud._) Well, you're bound to find
it out sooner or later; and I admire him all the more for it myself.
I'd no idea he had it _in_ him. Shows how mistaken you may be in
fellows.

_Mrs. Toov._ I've yet to learn who and what you are talking about,
CHARLES!

_Charles._ Why, that quiet, modest friend of yours, Mr. CLARENCE
CURPHEW, if you _must_ know!

_Mrs. Toov._ I don't believe it. Mr. CURPHEW is not at all the sort of
young man to spend his money in such resorts.

_Charles._ He don't _spend_ it there--he _makes_ it. My dear Aunt, you
ought to feel honoured by having such a distinguished acquaintance.
Don't you remember my mentioning the great music-hall star, WALTER
WILDFIRE? You must. Well, CLARENCE CURPHEW and WALTER WILDFIRE are one
and the same person--honour bright, they are!

_Mrs. Toov._ (_sinking back with a gasp_). A--a music-hall star! And
I have been urging ALTHEA to---- Oh, how fortunate it is I have been
warned in time! He shall not see her--I will write and put him off--at
once!

    [Mr. TOOVEY _enters blandly_.

_Mr. Toov._ Ah, CHARLES, my boy, so here you are? that's right, that's
right. You, too, CORNELIA? (_To her, in an undertone._) It's all
right, my love--our dear young friend, Mr. CURPHEW, you know--we met
on the doorstep just now, and I've left him and THEA together in the
drawing-room. I thought it was best, eh?

    [_He looks to her for approval._

_Mrs. Toov._ You've left---- But there, I might have known! No, don't
speak to me, Pa--there's no time to lose! Come with me, CHARLES, I may
want you.

    [_She rustles out of the room, followed by_ CHARLES.

_Mr. Toov._ (_looking after her in mild perplexity_). Dear, dear me!
I wonder what can be the matter _now_. CORNELIA seems so very---- I
hardly like to go and see--and yet, perhaps, I ought--perhaps I ought.
There's one comfort, whatever it is, it can't have anything to do with
that dreadful Eldorado. Yes, I'd better go and look into it!

    [_He goes out._--_End of Scene XVI._

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: "USING LANGUAGE."

_The Squire._ "WELL, SMITH, I WANT YOUR ADVICE. HADN'T WE BETTER LET
THEM HAVE THEIR WAY THIS TIME?"

_Smith._ "NO, NO, SIR. STICK TO YOUR RIGHTS! WHAT _I_ SAY IS--'GIVE
SUCH PEOPLE A HINCH AND THEY'LL TAKE A HELL'--IF YOU'LL PARDON MY
USIN' SUCH STRONG LANGUAGE!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

MAGIC AND MANUFACTURES.

(_A Fairy Fragment from the German._)

Little ALICE was delighted with her surroundings. She had found her
way into a lumber-room, which was filled with modern furniture and
modern toys. "How pretty they are!" she exclaimed; "and how I would
like to speak to them!"

Then the Cup and Saucer labelled a "Present from Ramsgate," and the
Old Grandfather's Clock glowed with satisfaction. Evidently they
wished to join in the conversation.

Then ALICE thought that perhaps she might raise a sprite or a goblin
of some magical person by reading ANDERSEN'S Fairy Stories backward.
She had scarcely, with some difficulty, completed the first page
(rendered reversely) of "The Shepherdess and the Brave Tin Soldier,"
when an old lady, about eighteen inches high, suddenly appeared before
her.

"You want all these inanimate things to speak?" said the new comer.
"Well, you will be disappointed if they do."

ALICE protested that she would be delighted beyond measure if they
would but talk. "It will be interesting, so very interesting, dear
godmother," she cried; and then she added, "I suppose I may assume
that you _are_ my godmother?"

"You may assume anything you like," snapped out the little old lady;
"only don't bother me. Here! I authorise all these things to talk. I
will be back again by-and-by to see how you are getting on. Adieu."
And then the little old lady disappeared. And then, as she had
foretold, ALICE suffered great disappointment.

The Cup and Saucer "A Present from Ramsgate," began speaking sixteen
words to the dozen, but ALICE could not make out the meaning. Then the
Old Grandfather's Clock talked, but without better effect. ALICE could
not understand a syllable. And the box of tin Highlanders followed
suit. So did a doll dressed as an Irish peasant. Then all sorts of
things that seemed to be English to the backbone or last ounce
of metal--scissors, books, and calico curtains--kept up a fire of
conversation. But ALICE could make out nothing. She was absolutely
astounded. Here were heaps of British goods suddenly endowed with the
power of speech, and yet she could not understand them!

And as she considered, the little old lady again appeared.

"Well, child!" she exclaimed. "What's the matter? You seem perplexed!
Have not all the toys been talking?"

"Why, yes," faltered ALICE; "but then you see I cannot understand a
word they say!"

"Of course you cannot," replied the Fairy. "They speak only their
native language."

"Their native language! Then why don't they speak English?"

"Because, my good girl," returned the Fairy, preparing to take her
departure, "they cannot. You see, young lady, they don't know anything
about the English language, and this is natural enough, for they were
all made in Germany!"

       *       *       *       *       *

THE FUTURE OF HOME RULE.

    MR. GL-DST-NE: ANOTHER TELEPATHIC AUTOMATIC INTERVIEW.

I had not seen Mr. GL-DST-NE for two days, nor had I heard from him
for three posts, neither knew I where he was. I knew he _had_ been at
Downing Street. That evening I found myself in an Inner Circle train,
and no sooner there than I made up my mind to ask Mr. GL-DST-NE if he
would mind my interviewing him. My hand at once wrote--on the margin
of my evening paper--that he was at Downing Street, and that I might
have the interview. It was quite an ordinary one, except that I
thought the questions and wrote the answers on my knee with my hand.
"Well, Mr. GL-DST-NE," I said, or, rather, thought, "what do you think
of Home Rule?" My hand (not the Old Parliamentary Hand) wrote:--

"W. E. G. I do not think that I shall be in any way departing from
what has long since become to be recognised as the practice applicable
to this present set of circumstances, a practice to which I am able
to speak from an experience of more than sixty years, when I say
speaking, not merely for myself, but for the whole of the Members of
the Cabinet, and, indeed, I may fairly say of the Government in its
entirety, that we are not indisposed to grant to Ireland that measure
of self-government for which she is asking in a constitutional way
through her duly elected representatives, and that we earnestly hope
that as a result of our efforts we may be enabled, with a reasonable
prospect of finality, to put an end to a condition of affairs which
for the whole of the present century has embittered our relations
with our sister country, and has exposed us to the censures of
every authority in the civilised world whose acknowledged competency
entitles him to an opinion."

Then I ventured a question as to the future. "What about Home Rule
next Session, Mr. GL-DST-NE?"

"The question as to what position the Home Rule controversy will
assume next Session is naturally one which can only be determined when
we have before us all the facts which are essential for the purpose
of enabling us to arrive at a definitive conclusion, and as soon as
it becomes reasonably plain what the exact position of parties will
be when it becomes necessary to decide on what lines the policy of
the Government will proceed. I may, however, say that, whilst not
forgetful in any way of the obligations of honour under which the
Liberal party lie to the Irish people, and whilst it will be our duty
at the earliest available moment to press forward measures which shall
carry out our pledges in that direction, we shall not forget that the
consideration of what are not unnaturally termed English reforms is an
imperative necessity, to which the attention of the Government will be
directed at the first opportunity."

By this time I had reached Charing Cross, and as I passed out the
ticket-examiner handed me a postcard. It was in Mr. GL-DST-NE'S
writing. Judge of my astonishment when I found that quite
spontaneously he had written to me just what I had written in the
interview. I at once wrote to him and informed him of what had
happened. His answer was: "It is most extraordinary. If I didn't
believe all you tell me, I should have come to the conclusion that
you faked (I think that is the word) the interview up out of my old
speeches." So there you have the whole story. Someone suggests I
should publish the postcard. Curiously enough, I have mislaid it. But
two and two make four, and you can go and ask the ticket-examiner.

       *       *       *       *       *

Cause and Effect.

"I am occupied with my secretaries while I am dressing."--_Lord
Herschell to the deputation of Liberal Members, Nov. 16._

"Mr. K. MUIR MACKENZIE, Q.C., Permanent Sec. to the LORD CHANCELLOR,
has been made a Companion of the Bath."--_Daily Paper._

       *       *       *       *       *

PLEASANT SPOOKERY.

Yes, thanks to BRANDON THOMAS'S skill, and PENLEY'S comic _nous_, The
lucky "Globe" may well be called the real '_Aunt_-ed House!

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: BABY-WORSHIP. (THE POINT OF VIEW.)

"YOUR NIECES SEEM VERY FOND OF BABIES, MR. SINNICK. I SUPPOSE YOU ARE
TOO?"

"OH YES; LIKE 'EM AWFULLY; ESPECIALLY WHEN THEY BEGIN TO _CRY_."

"AH, YOU THINK THE DEAR LITTLE THINGS ARE IN PAIN?"

"YES; AND SOMEBODY RINGS THE BELL, YOU KNOW, AND THE NURSE COMES, AND
THE DEAR LITTLE THINGS ARE TAKEN AWAY TO THE NURSERY!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

THE HANDY BOY.

    ["In the office he held, which in reality was much too heavy
    for any single man to bear, it was necessary to live almost a
    monastic life, and the eight hours which some persons regarded
    as a maximum of toil seemed to those who occupied that
    position a dim and distant and golden vision."--_Lord
    Rosebery, at the opening of the Battersea Town Hall_.]

_The Missis soliloquiseth_:--

  Ah! he's really the usefullest boy, that
    young PRIMROSE, that ever we've had,
  And I'm sure I don't know, not sometimes,
    how we'd get along, but for that lad!
  So willing, and so civil-spoken, yet none too
    much given to mag.
  He does the House credit all round, and I'm
    sure he's the pick o' the bag.

  Gets through his own work without
    worrit, and then he's so good at odd jobs!
  Which some servants are awfully uppish, and
    thinks themselves no end of nobs.
  But PRIMROSE is pleasant and modest, you
    know where the boy's to be found,
  And there's nothing he won't turn his hand
    to, to make things agreeable all round.

  Heigho! How I wish----But no matter!
    Young PRIMROSE, he _knows_ such a lot,
  And he seems to be trusted by all, which
    some of us, I fear,--well, are _not_.
  There is WILLIAM, the butler, and John, now;
    they 're excellent servants, of course,
  Yet they don't seem as happy as PRIMROSE,
    although the boy works like a horse!

  _His_ task's to attend to the door, which needs
    wonderful quickness and tact;
  For our visitors, foreign and others, _are_
    troublesome, that is a fact.
  But Russian, or Frenchman, or L.C.C. boss
    from out Battersea way,
  Or a working-man out of a job, PRIMMY
    always knows just what to say.

  He's a treasure, that boy; and I'm always
    a-putting fresh work on his back!
  There's this Coal Question now! Awful
    worry! He has such a wonderful knack
  I am sure he might settle _that_ shindy. If
    so he will just be a jewel!
  If pig-headedness holds on _both_ sides, we
    shall presently run out of fuel.

  If he can "conciliate" them, it will truly be
    very good biz:
  And so I've _suggested_--no more!--that "the
    boy"--ah! by Jove, here he is!
  Poor chap! Two big scuttles--up-stairs!
    He must find it a terrible pull,
  With _his_ work too! But if he succeeds--well,
    the cup of his credit is full.

  Ah, PRIMROSE, my boy! This _is_ good of you!
    Two at a time, too. Oh, dear!--
  It is not just _your_ work, I'll allow, and you
    find they are heavy, I fear.
  But you know what a bother it's been. Some
    chaps are such obstinate souls!--
  But I was quite sure that _you_ wouldn't mind
    stooping to--taking up coals!

       *       *       *       *       *

Why does LOBENGULA, when finding fault with his regiments, appear a
great commander? Because then he is an Impi rater.

       *       *       *       *       *

QUEER CARDS.

(_By a Rural Innkeeper, who has been "had."_)

  They come to me (a poor old chap!)
    And take one room--mostly the same;
  A quiet spot, they say, for Nap:
    (But "Crib's" their real game.)
  Their luggage is a smallish trunk,
    A whopping walking-stick--alway!
  When for a month they've fed and drunk,
    I gently hint at pay.
  They say, "Why, certainly! They mean
    To dwell some months beneath my roof.
  So happy they have _never_ been!"
    (I think they call this "Spoof.")
  They swear my wife's the best of cooks,
    They hint they're half in love with SUKEY,
  My daughter, who _can_ boast good looks
    (And here begins Blind Hookey).
  Then, when they're some more weeks in debt,
    I tell them Tick's last door is shut;
  When--their knave's tricks not ended yet--
    They shuffle--pack--and _cut_!

       *       *       *       *       *

BUSINESS.

    ["France, it is expected, will endeavour to hasten England's
    evacuation of Egypt, and Russia will try to settle the
    question of the Dardanelles."--_Daily Chronicle._]

  Who says that Franco-Russian gush
    Means naught, to reason's optic?
  The Russ will help the Frank to rush
    England, from regions Coptic;
  And--here JOHN BULL must surely flinch,
    While Gallia's bosom swells!--
  The Bear, if but allowed an inch,
    Will take--the Dardanelles!

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: THE HANDY BOY!

THE MISSIS. "I KNEW YOU HAD PLENTY TO DO, PRIMROSE, BUT I WAS QUITE
SURE YOU WOULDN'T MIND TAKING UP THOSE COALS!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

THE OLD AND NEW SCHOOL--FOR SCANDAL.

The two principal figures to be considered are Mr. WILLIAM FARREN,
who, as _Sir Peter_, is a Master of Arts in the OLD SCHOOL, and Miss
REHAN, who as _Lady Teazle_ is an experimentalising teacher in the New
_School for Scandal_. All playgoers, whose memory takes them back over
a quarter of a century, must be familiar with WILLIAM FARREN'S _Sir
Peter_, which, in our time may have been rivalled, but has rarely
been equalled (I do not remember his equal in the past), and certainly
never excelled. A trifle overdone now and then, a trifle hard in
manner here and there, perhaps, but, as a whole, simply admirable.
Mr. DALY never made a better engagement than when he secured WILLIAM
FARREN for _Sir Peter_. About Miss REHAN'S _Lady Teazle_ there will be
various opinions and, truth to tell, I do not precisely know from what
point of view and by what standard to judge of her performance. _Sir
Peter_ describes her as "a girl bred wholly in the country," and
so forth, "yet," he continues, "she now plays her part in all the
extravagant fopperies of fashion and the town with as ready a grace as
if she had never seen a bush or a grass plot out of Grosvenor Square."
To let her country training be perceived through the assumed airs and
graces of a town Madame seems to me to be Miss REHAN'S object; and in
this, granting her ideas of the country hoyden and the town lady to
be correct, she certainly succeeds; notably in the scenes with _Sir
Peter_. For thus is the Jekyl-and-Hyde-ness of her character made
apparent: in company, in the scandal scenes, she is to be all airs and
graces, but when alone with her husband she, in spite of her perpetual
wrangling with him, reappears as her own natural self, with most of
the polish temporarily rubbed off. But if this be so, then, when in
"society," her funny little run and shaking of the head are out of
place, while they may be accepted as a relapse into her provincialisms
when she is quite free and easy, _en tête-à-tête_ with _Sir Peter_,
and especially bent on captivating him by recalling to his memory the
lass of whom he had become desperately enamoured some eight months
ago.

[Illustration: _Shade of Sheridan._ "William Farren, my old friend, I
congratulate you: and I suspect that in the present generation I owe
you much."

_Sir William Peter Farren Teazle._ "Not more than I do you, Mr.
Sheridan. Let us say, mutually indebted."

    [_They exchange snuff-pinches._
]

In the Screen Scene when "discovered," Miss REHAN'S attitude is
eloquent; and on this tableau I have always thought the curtain should
descend, as all after this, even _Sir Peter's_ exit with "damn your
sentiments," good as it is, is an anti-climax. I should prefer that
Miss REHAN'S _Lady Teazle_ should be silent, or if it must be played
as written, then here of all situations in the comedy would I insist
upon her emphasising the perfectly natural manner of the unaffected
country girl, instead of addressing Sir _Peter_ in the deep tones of a
tragedian, as if attempting a mere theatrical effect. In the last Act,
as arranged, she appears to have done with her town airs and graces
for ever, and, wearing a queer sort of mob-cap, enters on _Sir
Peter's_ arm, ready with him to face the ridicule, the satire, and the
scandal of their world.

Miss VANBRUGH makes a delightful _Lady Sneerwell_, and Mrs. GILBERT
a dear old _Mrs. Candour_, who would spitefully gossip about her
neighbours for hours together. _Maria_ is almost always a thankless
part, and Miss PERCY HASWELL leaves no doubt on the mind of the
audience of her being a poor orphan of some six months' standing.
The part of _Moses_ offers very little scope to Mr. JAMES LEWIS,
especially as the celebrated "I'll take my oath of that" is cut out,
and some lines are introduced, which being quite un-Sheridanesque and
un-Mosaic do not in the least assist the character. However, as he is
much slapped on the back, dug in the ribs, and generally treated as a
butt by _Charles_ and _Careless_ (who, by the way, gives _"Here's to
the Maiden"_ in first-rate style), Mr. LEWIS may be congratulated on
getting to the end of his impersonation of one of the long-suffering
tribe in perfect safety. Mr. BOURCHIER'S _Charles_ goes well with
the audience; but Mr. GEORGE CLARKE is too conscientious, and too
impressed with a sense of the horrible scoundrelism of _Joseph's_
character to be ever really at home in so uncongenial a part.

For the re-arrangement, much may be said "for," and more "against."
There is only one point that strikes me as absolutely inartistic, and
that is, making _Sir Peter_ give his explanatory speech about his wife
_after_ we have seen her, instead of leaving it in its proper place,
as SHERIDAN wrote it, where it serves as a prologue to the subsequent
scene between _Sir Peter_ and _Lady Teazle_, when she appears for the
first time in the comedy.

There are some curious oversights in the scenic arrangements at
Daly's. The first is in _Charles Surface's_ picture gallery, _which
has no windows and no skylight_. The second is that though _Charles_
has sold all his books, yet through the door of the picture-room are
seen the first shelves of an evidently well-stocked library. The third
oversight is in _Joseph's_ chambers, described in the original play
as "_a library in Joseph Surface's house_," where, when he tells _Sir
Peter_ that "_books are the only things I am a coxcomb in_," there are
only a very few volumes to be seen, and these are lying at haphazard
on a table.

[Illustration: Lady Ada Rehan Teazle.

"In for some sort of a run"--at Daly's.]

To revert for a moment to _Charles Surface's_ windowless and
skylightless picture gallery, the scene takes place in the evening,
after dinner, or supper, and how is the huge apartment lighted? Why,
by a couple of ordinary candles placed on a side-table, while on the
mantelpiece at the back remain a couple of silver candelabra, filled
with candles which remain all the time unlighted. Why, naturally, the
company would have been in darkness, but not a bit of it, for these
two candles do give so preternaturally wonderful an illumination, that
the stage is as bright as a sunlighted garden at noonday in July. The
company that could produce such candles would make a fortune by their
patent. The dance at the end of the first Act brings down the curtain
to enthusiastic applause, and, to the end, the old comedy, in spite
of various chops and changes, holds its own, as it ever will do,
triumphantly.

       *       *       *       *       *

OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.

FATHER CHRISTMAS is already sending out his Cards for the Coming
Festivity, now six weeks ahead. His representatives all "decorated,"
and still ready to receive any amount of "orders," are MARCUS WARD,
the RAPHAEL TUCK family, C. W. FAULKNER, C. DELGADO, and many others,
whose excellent works are known to all, and by none more appreciated
than by the youthful Baronites and Baronitesses.

"BLACKIE AND SON!" says a Junior Baronite; "why, that must he the
publishers of Christy Minstrel works!" but they are soon undeceived.
Such delightful books! their very bindings are suggestive of
cheerfulness, and seem to invite inspection. We will take a peep
inside, like Jack Horner, and pull out the best plummed story.
Three by G. A. HENTY, who knows how and what to write for youths of
adventurous spirit. His three are:--

_Through the Sikh War._ Indian affairs are always of interest to the
young Britisher, "who will," quoth the little Baronite, "_seek_ and
find all he wants in this book."

_St. Bartholomew's Eve_ might be a tale of curiosity, but it is
history, and deals with the valour of an English boy during the
Huguenot Wars. Being a hero, he does not get killed in the massacre,
but lives to fight another day.

_A Jacobite Exile_ is a tale of the Swedes. Hardly necessary, perhaps,
or as SHAKSPEARE puts it, "Swedes to the Swede,--superfluous." To the
English reader, therefore, it is not a superfluity.

Then here is The _Penny Illustrated_. It is called "_Roses_" and
whatever any reader may require, here he will find it "all among the
roses." The rearer and cultivator of these "Roses" is JOHN LATEY,
whose "Rose of Hastings" is among the best of the contributions. "We
can't do better than provide ourselves and our families with this
specimen of a Flowery Annual," quoth,

  THE BARON DE BOOK-WORMS.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: A NEW ADJECTIVE.

_Customer._ "YOU'LL FIND I MEASURE A BIT MORE ROUND THE WAIST THAN I
DID LAST TIME YOU TOOK MY MEASURE."

_Tailor._ "AH, WELL, SIR, IF I MAY BE ALLOWED TO SAY SO, YOU _ARE_ A
TRIFLE MORE--AH--MORE _LOBENGULOUS_ THAN FORMERLY."]

       *       *       *       *       *

1,000,000 A. D.

    ["The descendants of man will nourish themselves by immersion
    in nutritive fluid. They will have enormous brains, liquid,
    soulful eyes, and large hands, on which they will hop. No
    craggy nose will they have, no vestigial ears; their mouths
    will be a small, perfectly round aperture, unanimal, like the
    evening star. Their whole muscular system will be shrivelled
    to nothing, a dangling pendant to their minds."--_Pall Mall
    Gazette, abridged._]

[Illustration]

  What, a million years hence, will become of the _Genus
    Humanum_, is truly a question vexed;
  At that epoch, however, _one_ prophet has seen us
        Resemble the sketch annexed.

  For as Man undergoes Evolution ruthless,
    His skull will grow "dome-like, bald, terete";
  And his mouth will be jawless, gumless, toothless--
        No more will he drink or eat!

  He will soak in a crystalline bath of pepsine,
    (No ROBERT will then have survived, to wait,)
  And he'll hop on his hands as his food he steps in--
        A quasi-cherubic gait!

  No longer the land or the sea he'll furrow;
    The world will be withered, ice-cold, dead
  As the chill of Eternity grows, he'll burrow
        Far down underground instead.

  If the _Pall Mall Gazette_ has thus been giving
    A forecast correct of this change immense,
  Our stars we may thank, then, that _we_ shan't be living
        A million years from hence!

       *       *       *       *       *

ONE DOWN T'OTHER COME ON.--King Log is a most useful substitute when
King Coal has temporarily abdicated.

       *       *       *       *       *

ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.

EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M. P.

_House of Commons, Monday, November 13._--TOMLINSON has for some time
observed with deepening disfavour his position in House as affected
by, and compared with, that of his friend and companion dear, TOMASSO
BOWLES. TOMMY, to drop into the affectionate diminutive, is a mere
child compared with him. He is but the birth of the last General
Election; whilst for thirteen years this very month TOMLINSON has
presented at Westminster Preston's idea of the highest form of culture
and intelligence.

Employers' Liability Bill offered opportunity for coming to front;
not that either as Employer or Employed TOMLINSON has any special
knowledge on subject. But he sees as clearly into its bearings as
he does through the average Lancashire stone wall. Awake at nights
drafting new Clauses that should baffle ASQUITH and make the SQUIRE OF
MALWOOD sit up. Looked most imposing on paper. Thought at one time of
posting copy to every elector of Preston, so that he might see what
a power in Senate is the borough Member. Wouldn't cost so much since,
posted at House of Commons in official wrapper, they might go free.
Still there would be remarks made if TOMLINSON drove into Palace
Yard enthroned on top of waggon containing 15,959 addressed copies of
Amendments to Employers' Liability Bill. Gave up idea. Electors
must buy the papers where, in Parliamentary reports, they would read
voluminous digests of his speeches.

Began soon after House took up Bill this afternoon. First group of
Amendments covered folio page of print. Read admirably; if it had not
been usual for Member in charge of new Clause to explain to House its
object and effect in operation success would have been assured. Here's
where TOMLINSON came to grief; talked for some time; House listened at
first, honestly intent upon considering project, whatever it might he.
Effect of TOMLINSON'S speech not elucidatory. The more he talked the
more hopeless the muddle. When he sat down anguished listeners not
quite sure whether he had (1) moved the Clause, (2) proposed to
withdraw it, or (3) suggested that a more convenient place for
insertion would he found later on. Fortunately new Clause in print
among Amendments. That ASQUITH should decline to have anything to do
with it natural enough. Saddest of all befel when from his own side
of House ROLLIT bluntly denounced Clause, CARSON hoped it wouldn't
be pressed, and HENRY JAMES, from allied camp opposite, demolished it
with final shot.

[Illustration: THE HOME SECRETARY'S SAFETY-VALVE. TRAFALGAR SQUARE OF
THE FUTURE.]

This not encouraging, but there were other Amendments standing in his
name of which something must be said. TOMLINSON rose when called on,
but gratefully sat down when greeted with mirthful cries for division.
Only gleam of comfort in sorrowful night was when TOMMY BOWLES,
rushing in whence he had retreated, called down on himself SPEAKER'S
stern commentary that his remarks were "quite irrelevant."

_Business done._--Report Stage of Employers' Liability Bill.

_Tuesday._--To casual observer there is nothing in personal appearance
of UGHTRED KAY-SHUTTLEWORTH suggestive of the Tartar. Yet to-night
Sir ELLIS ASHMEAD BART(LETT), going a hunting on the Treasury Bench
preserves, bagged Secretary to Admiralty and found he had caught
a Tartar. ASHMEAD, in his self-asserted character of BRITANNIA'S
Confidential Clerk, tried to draw UGHTRED on subject of Naval Scare.
SHUTTLEWORTH, with manner that combined severity of a magistrate with
benignity of a dean, managed to present ASHMEAD in aspect of
fussy person who, having had some official knowledge, in whatever
subordinate position, ought to have been able to restrain the
self-assertiveness that led him to put such a question. House, which
does not do credit to The BART(LETT)'S many sterling qualities, roared
with delight. Stung to quick, ASHMEAD up again; shouted across table,
"I ask the right hon. gentleman whether he can give me any evidence of
his being alive----" House, struck with evidence to that effect just
given, broke in with fresh roar of laughter. ASHMEAD stood glaring
round at merry circle. When noise subsided, continued: "----any
evidence of his being alive to the importance of his duties?" More
laughter. ASHMEAD appealed to SPEAKER to reprimand KAY-SHUTTLEWORTH.
Speaker justified Minister's action. One more attempt; one more
rebuff; and ASHMEAD subsided for the night, not quite sure after all
that silence isn't golden. At least it used to bring in £1000 a year.

_Business done._--A good deal with the Employers' Liability Bill.

_Wednesday._--Another quiet sitting with Employers' Liability Bill.
Cap'en TOMMY BOWLES, respectfully removing his tarpaulin, and shifting
his quid, relieved dullness of afternoon by some capital yarns. One
drew a vivid picture of dangers that lurk behind the casual pilot. On
a dark night in midsummer Cap'en TOMMY, a-sailing down the coast of
Barbaree, came upon what looked like a town. Turned out to be Algiers;
hauled down his main yard; ran out the topgallantsail spanker, and
bore down on the harbour. Just as he was entering was boarded by
pilot.

"Sheer off!" says TOMMY through his polyglot speaking-trumpet. "Don't
want your help; know every rock and shoal on the coast; will take the
ship in myself."

Pilot produced from lining at back of his trousers Code of
Regulations; this set forth that pilot was compulsory. Nothing to do
but submit, unless he would involve Great Britain in war. Pilot
came aboard; took charge; forged ahead; just going to run ship on
breakwater when TOMMY'S keen eye perceived danger.

[Illustration: Tommy Bowles and the Pilot.]

"Sir," said the only Member of House of Commons who, since BIG BEN'S
death, holds a sea captain's certificate, "I took my ship out of the
pilot's hand, and brought her in safely."

House uproariously cheered, and FRANK LOCKWOOD went off and drew a
sketch of the historical scene.

_Business done._--More of Employers' Liability Bill.

_Thursday._--Government in difficulties to-night. _Cherchez la femme._
WALTER M'LAREN had her in charge; a modest little thing, merely asking
that women, whether married or single, should be enabled to vote
at election of Parish Councils. House not very full; no danger
anticipated; but Conservatives joined their forces with Radicals below
gangway, and before Ministers quite knew where they were they found
themselves in minority of twenty-one.

[Illustration: "Winged!"]

"Winged!" cried Admiral BORTHWICK. "The FOWLER went out shooting, and
comes home shot."

Suggestion made that Government should resign; Mr. G. only smiled.

Spiteful little thing RENTOUL said just now. Supporting amendment to
Employers' Liability Bill he remarked "Gentlemen who sit on this side
of the House are in favour of the amendment; gentlemen who sit on the
other side of the House equally approve it; whilst Sir ALBERT ROLLIT,
who sits on every side of the House, does not object to it."

_Business done._--Employers' Liability Bill reported; Government
defeated; got into Committee on Parish Councils Bill.

_Friday._--Rather painful scene to-night between SYDNEY BUXTON and
SAGE OF QUEEN ANNE'S GATE. SAGE, ever thirsting for knowledge, wanted
to know much about Matabeleland. Drafted a long string of questions
addressed to Under Secretary for Colonies.

"Unfounded assumptions," BUXTON, in the pride of office, characterised
these simple interrogatories. The SAGE, insatiable for information,
desires to have the unfounded assumptions particularised. BUXTON
referred Members to the question.

"But why," asked the SAGE, with tremble and pathos in his voice, "did
you call them unfounded assumptions?"

Affected by this spectacle of genuine emotion, BUXTON proposed to
substitute for the obnoxious word milder form "unproved."

"Yes," said the SAGE, sticking to his point; "but you said unfounded."
No use BUXTON attempting to deny this; lapsed into embarrassed
silence; probably will be more careful in future.

_Business done._--Very little of Parish Councils Bill.

       *       *       *       *       *

A COCKNEY ON A GREAT COLLECTION.

    [We are informed that Prince LUCIEN BONAPARTE'S unique library
    of some 25,000 volumes, included "a complete set of _Punch_"
    preserved presumably by the Prince for the specimens of
    "Cockney dialect which it contains."]

  Jest fancy a Prince BONYPARTY sech nuts upon patter and slang!
  Proves a Prince may be fly to wot's wot, and of chat as _is_ chat
          'ave the 'ang.
  Lor bless yer, this LUCYUN, _'e_ knowed all the cackles
          as ever was chinned.
  I'll wager as _'e_ wos aweer as a Billingsgit Pheasant is _finned_!
  He'd got SOLOMON'S song in Tyke lingo! A pity 'e didn't know _me_!
  I'd ha' run it off into back slang, and ha' done it most willing and
          free.
  'Cos a Prince and a Frenchy at that, as appreshiates _Punch_,
          _and_ my patter,
  Is a precious sight smarter than some "Cockney" criticks, and that's
          wot's the matter!
  So bully for Prince BONYPARTY! When weighed in 'e's well hup to
          scale;
  And _if_ them books come to the 'ammer, wy 'ARRY means seeing the
          sale!

       *       *       *       *       *


Transcriber's Note:

Page 244: Removed extrraneous 'not'.

"and do not follow the senseless fashion of dressing ..."

Page 252: 'embarassed' corrected to 'embarrassed'.

"... lapsed into embarrassed silence;"

       *       *       *       *       *





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