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Title: Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 108, June 8, 1895
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. 108, June 8, 1895" ***

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VOL. 108.
JUNE 8, 1895.

                          ROBERT ON THE TEMS.

Me and sum of the Gents of the Lundon County Counsel, as they calls
theirselves, has had sum considerable differences of opinion lately, but
I don't suppose as it will cum to much. It seems as sum on em has got
theirselves elected into the Tems Conserwancy Gents, and nothink as is
dun quite sattisfys em unless they has the best places on bord the
crack steamers as takes em either up the River or Down the River, as the
case may be. In course they all wants the werry best heatables and
drinkables, and plenty on em; but if the water appens to be jest a
little ruff, the one thing as they all scrambles for is plenty to heat
and plenty to drink, and a nice quiet seat in the Saloon all the way


I herd tell the other day as how as some of the Tems Conserwancy Gents
had a reglar quarrel with sum of the County Counsel Gents, all becoz of
the diffrence that sum on em wants to make in the way in which things is
conducted on bord when agoing on their way home. It most suttenly must
make a great diffrence weather it is a nice, brillyant, sunny day, and
all happy on bord, or weather it is a dull, dark, rainy day, and not
room enuff for harf the cumpany.

I don't find as how as the too partys in the Corporation agrees with one
another more than they used to when they used to quarrel so much about
everythink. In fack they seems jist as much opposed to each other as
ever, and I, for my part, most truly hopes as how as they will continue
in the same noble spirit, and then they will hate each other with the
same cordial hatred as so distinguished them in days gone by.

I don't know a greater treat myself than spending a nour or too with the
County Counsellers at Charing Cross. They can lay the stingers about in
splendid style, and both sides of the question, much alike in force, and
werry much alike in quolity. But the werry finist sight of all I shoud
think wood be to see a thorowly good set to between a picked set of the
Tems Conserwancy and another of the County Counsellers. From what I
hears of the former I shoud think their chance would be grand indeed,
and from what I have herd of their reckless perseverance I should think
their loss almost incredible. The Tems is the river for me, and long may
it remain so!


                               * * * * *

                          ROUNDABOUT READINGS.

Terrible things have been happening in Newcastle. If any one doubts this
statement, let him read the following extract from one of the local
papers. "Though it is a good while," observes a leader-writer, "since it
could be said with justice that the trade of the country was advancing
by leaps and bounds, the observation may with absolute accuracy be made
with respect to our Newcastle rates. They have stolen along with woollen
feet, and are now about to strike with iron hands."

                                 * * *

I bow to the ground in awe-struck admiration before this picture
of rates stealing along on woollen feet and raising iron hands for a
deadly blow at the unfortunate ratepayers of Newcastle. There is
something fell and savage in the mere contemplation of it. Prose is
quite inadequate to it; it demands rhyme, and must have it:--

      Consider Newcastle, its pitiful case,
        Where the rates have a habit of stealing.
      'Tis a way they are prone to in many a place,
        And they do it without any feeling.

      They move without noise, and they thus get the pull,
        Like a cab with a new rubber tyre on;
      For their feet, it is said, are a compound of wool,
        Though the hands that they strike with are iron.

      The vision appals me, one glimpse is enough;
        With terror my bosom is heaving.
      Yet I venture the hint--do not treat it as stuff--
        That steel were more suited for thieving.

                                 * * *

Something always appears to be wrong with the streets of Bristol. I had
to notice the melancholy case of Christmas Street last week. The
epidemic has now extended to Old Market Street. Here the pitching is so
dangerous that horses fall and break their legs, and ladies die from
falls on Easter Mondays. A correspondent who calls attention to this
matter says that "it is quite annoying on a busy day to have to ask
customers two, three, or even four times what they require." I scarcely
see what this has to do with the pavement, but personally I have always
found it more than annoying to be asked four times as much as I require,
even when my requirements are small, as they usually are. It is
gratifying to find that, in Old Market Street, at any rate, the
shopkeeper who asks has an equal share of annoyance.

                                 * * *

Then again, Conduit Place, Lower Ashley Road, is not only badly
lighted, but its name is practically unknown. "Even shopkeepers in the
neighbourhood and policemen on the beat do not seem to know of it, and
sometimes lead people astray in consequence." This, however, is not to
be wondered at, as "another difficulty is the numbering of the houses;
although only about thirty in the road, they are divided into five
terraces with different sets of numbers, which causes endless

                                 * * *

      Increase not, wanderer, the policeman's load;
      Ask not the site of Lower Ashley Road.
      Inquire not eagerly for Conduit Place,
      But start unasking on thy terraced chase.
      These places to policemen are unknown,
      So shall the pride of finding be thine own.
      Go forth, go forth, itinerary pundit,
      And find the place that takes its name from Conduit.
      Thy journey, after many a turn and twist'll
      Land thee at Lower Ashley Road in Bristol.
      Then pause, and, having raised a thankful voice,
      Take 'midst five terraces thy doubtful choice;
      And, envied by policemen on their beats,
      Return, a lexicon of Bristol streets.

                                 * * *

But the badness of the streets and the ignorance of policemen as to
their whereabout is nothing to the annoyance caused by the Salvation
Army bands near St. Clement's Church in Newfoundland Road. "On Ascension
Day," the Vicar writes, "our service was completely stopped for several
minutes, as the preacher, who had a bad cold, was unable to shout above
the din of the passing drum." I shudder to imagine what would have been
the plight of the congregation if the preacher had been free from cold,
and capable of shouting down a drum.

                                 * * *

Rowing and cricket are more closely connected than many people suppose.
In an account of the Oxford eight-oared bumping races, I read that "New
College started at a tremendous bat." This of course accounts for the
bawling on the bank by which these races are always accompanied. Further
on it is stated that "New College finished at 40, all out"--which seems
rather a small score.

                                 * * *

I commend the brevity of the Mayor of Cambridge, Mr. HYDE HILLS, who,
being obviously above Hyde Park, does not condescend to the verbosity of
the spouters who on Sundays congregate in that locality. The other day
Mr. HYDE HILLS was elected to be an Alderman, and all he said was, "I
thank you." This is _optimi exempli_, especially for Aldermen.

                                 * * *

Lately I came across the following touching appeal of an impecunious son
to his father:--

      Sir,--I have piles of bills,
      Regular miles of bills;
        My banking account's in a hash.
      All on the debtor side,
      Nought on the better side;
        The balance you'd hardly call "cash."

      'Tis terrible when you're reduced thus to penury,
        Even if _that's_ nothing new.
      Hope! Can I dream of it?
      Yes, there's a gleam of it;
        My quarter's allowance is due!

                                 * * *

At the Bigg Market in Newcastle was recently held what a local paper
describes as "a demnostration in favour of temperance reform."
"Demnostration" is a delightful word. It seems to express in the most
compact form enthusiasm and strong language.

                               * * * * *

A QUESTION OF POLICE.--A few days since Liverpool set another lesson to
London. No doubt with the consent of the Liverpudlians (inclusive of
"the dangerous classes"), the local police force had a grand field-day.
To quote our excellent contemporary, the _Courier_, "those who witnessed
the police's steady march through the streets in three battalions, and
their effectively-performed manoeuvres in Sefton Park, would hardly
realise what the turn-out meant to most of the men. They were on duty
through the night, and had very little rest before they had to parade
for inspection (with the march-out and review), and the weather being
warm, the display involved fatigue, so that the refreshments provided
were very welcome." Yes, and no doubt well deserved. But why should
London wait? Why should not we have something of the same kind? We might
have a grand Police Review in Hyde Park. All that would be necessary
would be to arrange that the metropolitan thieves should keep the

                                 * * *

HOUSE.--Don't spare the Black Rod, and then you won't have to spoil the

                               * * * * *

[Illustration: "WHAT A KNIGHT WE'RE HAVING!"


                               * * * * *

[Illustration: HINTS FOR THE PARK.


                               * * * * *

                     NOTES FROM A PATIENT'S DIARY.

    ["Music is a serious therapeutic agent, which exercises a
    genuine and considerable influence over bodily functions."--_The

_Monday._--Feel rather out of sorts, slight touch of influenza, I fancy.
Send round for Doctor. He shakes his head gravely, and produces
stethoscope. I protest that there's nothing wrong with my lungs, and
this is, therefore, unnecessary. But he explains that he treats all his
patients by music nowadays; supposed stethoscope turns out to be a
cornet, on which he performs selections from _Il Trovatore_ for my
benefit. Asks me if I feel better, and in order to get rid of him I
pretend that I do. Later on in the day a small musical-box arrives,
labelled "to be taken twice a day." Find it only plays one tune out of
_Rigoletto_. Pitch it out of window.

_Tuesday._--No better. Consult another doctor, who's just taken his
degree (in music) at Oxford, and is supposed to be very clever. He feels
my pulse, and looks solemn. Then he asks if I've been giving way to
Italian opera lately, and appears coldly sceptical when I explain that I
have been taking it by medical advice. Prescribes essence of WAGNER, to
be taken at short intervals. Begin by attending a RICHTER concert. Dr.
RICHTER'S practice is said to be enormous, and every part of St. James's
Hall is thronged by his patients.

_Wednesday._--Better. Receive a large number of patent medicine
circulars--this kind of thing: "Try our Indigestion Waltzes! Warranted
to cure. All headache, giddiness and faintness removed at first time of
hearing." Here's another: "Dentists superseded! All sufferers from
Toothache should attend Herr BOSKOWSKY'S course of Dental Piano
Recitals. Worth a guinea a stall." I also learn that the Hirsutine
Symphony cures baldness, and that the Pink Bavarian Band may be engaged
to play "Slumber-Songs" to sufferers from insomnia.

_Thursday._--Am aroused by five barrel-organs performing simultaneously
under my next-door neighbour's window. Send a note round suggesting they
should be dispersed. Answer "Sorry to cause annoyance, but our youngest
child is suffering from chickenpox, and has been ordered street-music
every three hours." Go out to buy an air-gun. Later in the day,
happening to take up the _Lancet_ at the Club, I find in it a long
article on "The treatment of pleurisy by BEETHOVEN'S Fifth Symphony in C

_Friday._--Two seedy-looking men suddenly appear in the drawing-room
after dinner to-night. Discover that they are "The Brothers TITTLEBAT"
from the Abracadabra Music Hall, and that my wife has engaged them, by
her doctor's orders, to sing comic songs every evening for a fortnight,
in order to cure the depression of spirits from which she believes
herself to be suffering. "The Brothers TITTLEBAT" seem to be suffering
themselves from elevation of spirits--gin, to judge by the smell; kick
them out, and decide to emigrate to-morrow.

                               * * * * *

                           LA DIVA AT DALY'S.

_Gismonda_ is poor stuff. The selection was a mistake. Lucky man SARDOU
to have SARA for heroine. Great is SARDOU and SARA is his profit!
Splendid as ever, but genius wasted on _Gismonda_. She will be seen at
her best in other dramas. Wonderful _artiste!_

Yes, _artiste jusqu'au bout des ongles_, but why give us these real good
tips, painted red? If it were in English, SARA might make some joke
about her fingers being "reddy" for the assassination of the villain.
This explanation does not exist in French. Probably it was the fashion
in the time of _Gismonda_.

Will any dramatist give SARA an entirely new part in which she will not
be compelled to purr, swear (like a cat, not a trooper), scratch,
shriek, tumble on settees, clutch curtains, wrestle with cushions, and
so forth?

Why, on first night, revive old custom of handing up baskets of flowers,
per orchestra, to the heroine of the play and the Star of the Night? Why
keep the audience waiting so long between each Act? We are not in Paris,
and when we have too much "song," or play, we can't get any "supper."

                               * * * * *

NOTE (_by our City Man_).--Excellent notion for a hot June--"the _Chili_
Loan." It will be a hot favourite: to be taken up warmly. _Mem._ Invest
"cool thousand" in the Chili Loan.

                               * * * * *

                          THE SCARLET PARASOL.

      SCENE III.--_The Hall. A quarter to Three in the afternoon._

_Muriel_ (_to_ ALAN, _who is just taking his hat_). Oh! _May_ I speak to
you one moment, Master ROY?

_Alan._ Pray do, dear Miss VANE. I am just going for a stroll by
myself--to--to develope an idea I've got.

_Muriel._ If you should happen to be going for a secret drive along the
high road with VIOLA, in a dog-cart from JOHNSTONE'S, _would_ you be so
kind as to give her this? (_Hands scarlet parasol._) She forgot it. And
don't let her leave it anywhere. You see her initials are carved round
it. And she is _always_ losing things. Please be very careful!

                                                         [_She smiles._

_Alan._ What on earth can have given you such an extraordinary idea,
Miss VANE?

                                                       [_Takes parasol._

_Muriel._ Well, a sort of coach-building, livery-stable person, from
JOHNSTONE'S, is engaged to JANE, the housemaid. He came to see her
to-day.... She has been ill, poor thing!

_Alan._ How very distressing!

_Muriel._ VIOLA _said_ she was going to visit cottages. However, in
_case_ you _should_ meet--one never knows--you'll give her the sunshade.

_Alan._ You may depend upon it, Miss VANE.

    _In the Dog-cart._ ALAN _is driving very leisurely, and_ VIOLA
    _trying to hide under her parasol_.

_Alan._ That's a perfectly delicious hat of yours!

_Viola._ I am so glad you like it! This is a very nice dog-cart, and
this is a pretty lane to drive in, so cool and green.

                                              [_A pony-carriage passes._

_Viola_ (_starting violently_). Good heavens! There are the clergyman
and his wife.

                                          [_She bows, blushing crimson._

_Alan._ Why are you agitated, Mrs. TRAVERS? They look very gentle and

_Viola._ Gentle and harmless! If they tell ALBERT?

_Alan._ Does he disapprove of the clergy taking exercise in the open

_Viola_ (_pettishly_). Of course not. How absurd!

                                                           [_A silence._

_Alan._ Shall we get out presently, and sit in one of these nice fields,
and make daisy-chains? There are daisies in fields, I know--though I
_am_ rather urban.

_Viola._ Oh, yes; and cowslips!

_Alan._ You ought to give a cowslip-ball, Mrs. TRAVERS. It would be
charming. May I come?

_Viola._ If you're old enough by then!

_Alan._ Oh, I'm never going to be old enough.

_Viola._ Really not?

_Alan_ (_candidly_). It's a great thing to have settled on one's pose,
Mrs. TRAVERS; and one can't be always changing--it's so much trouble!

                            _In the Field._

_Viola_ (_trying to enjoy herself_). This is lovely! So cool! and the
sky so--so blue!

_Alan._ You have a perfect passion for scenery! (_He picks some flowers,
and gives them to her._) I have so many things I want to tell you----

_Viola._ About yourself?

_Alan._ No, about you. Things you don't know----

_Viola_ (_starting_). Oh! Is that someone we know?

_Alan._ I _hope_ you wouldn't know a man who wears such a hat as that in
the country!

_Viola._ It's all right--I _don't_ know him.

                                                           [_Sits down._

_Alan_ (_trying to recover the thread_). About yourself--your eyes, for
instance. Has anyone ever told you how annihilating they are?

_Viola._ I'm very glad you like them, Master ROY; but we really _must_
go now, Dr. ROBERTS will be there to tea, and they will think it odd----

_Alan_ (_ironically_). Oh, it would be terrible to miss Dr.
ROBERTS--quite terrible!

          [_Follows her, thinking the expedition rather a failure. As he
            helps her into the dog-cart, she knocks her ankle very

_Viola._ Oh! Oh! I've broken my ankle! I shan't be able to walk home! It
will all be found out! Oh, _why_ did we do this!

                                                   [_She begins to cry._

_Alan_ (_to himself_). Why indeed! (_To_ VIOLA.) Poor dear child, how
absolutely dreadful! But, if Dr. ROBERTS is there it will be all right.
He can set it.

_Viola._ Set it! How can you talk in that heartless way! _Why_ did you
make me come for this drive?

_Alan_ (_apologetically_). I really thought you seemed as if you'd like
to! Come, I can't allow you to cry.

             [_Tries to dry her eyes. She moves away. He drops his whip
               and has to get out and pick it up. They drive back very
               quickly and in entire silence, save for a few groans
               from_ VIOLA.

_Viola._ Well, I suppose I must try to hobble home. Yes, I'm a little
better. Do take the horrid dog-cart away! It's an absurd one--brown and
ridiculous. _Do_ I look as if I'd been crying--much?

_Alan_ (_coldly but evasively_). You look perfectly charming.

_Viola._ Oh! _take_ that buttercup out of your coat! Someone might

[Illustration: At the garden gate.]

_Muriel_ (_meeting_ VIOLA _at the garden gate_). Oh, VIOLA, such
wonderful things have been happening! Quick--before we see anyone else.
Dr. ROBERTS has been here. Well, he proposed to me! and I accepted him
like a girl in a book! You see, you were out.

_Viola._ All right. Oh, MURIEL, I am so ill, and so anxious. I have such
a toothache, I can hardly walk. I hurt my foot, reading to a poor woman
in a cottage.

_Muriel._ Some tea will cure you. But, VIOLA, will you and ALBERT be
nice about my engagement?

_Viola._ The truth is I had such a dull, wretched, idiotic drive with
ALAN ROY, that I can't be nice about anything.

_Muriel._ Will you consult VALENTINE? Dr. ROBERTS, you know?

_Viola._ How can you go and get engaged to people called VALENTINE!

    _At Dinner. Everyone very cheery, except_ CLAUDE MIGNON, _who
    looks depressed, and_ Mrs. AVERIDGE, _who is unnoticed_.

_Albert_ (_serving soup_). What _is_ that ring?

_Viola._ Oh, nothing.

_Servant._ Please, Sir, it's only JOHNSTONE has sent misses's parasol,
that was left in the cart!

_Albert._ This is some mistake! You didn't drive to-day, VIOLA?

_Muriel_ (_apart to_ ALAN). Shall I betray you? (_To_ ALBERT.) The fact
is Master ROY went out alone, to develop an idea; and _I_ lent him
VIOLA'S parasol, because he was afraid of getting sunburnt.

                                                     [_Everyone laughs._

_Alan._ One _has_ to be so careful. Freckles run dreadfully in my
family. I had them once, and a relapse is _most_ dangerous!

                            _After Dinner._

_Viola._ Darling MURIEL! I congratulate you and VALENTINE. VALENTINE is
such a pretty name! How sweet you were! I shall never have another

_Muriel._ And shall you tell ALBERT all about it?

_Viola._ Perhaps--to-morrow!

_Claude Mignon_ (_to_ ALAN). I _hate_ a house where a girl is engaged!
I'm going away to-morrow.

_Alan._ So am I.

_Claude Mignon._ Rather a clumsy-looking creature--the old Doctor?

_Alan._ Oh, no! Very distinguished!

_Muriel_ (_to_ ALAN, _in a low voice_). I _told_ you not to leave the

_Alan._ You did, dear Miss VANE. It was dear of you.

_Muriel._ And did you develope your idea?

_Alan._ Well--no. Somehow, it didn't quite come off.

                                THE END.

                               * * * * *

BYE-BYE TO DAUDET.--We could not stand the presence of two lions in
London; so, when NASRULLA KHAN appeared on the scene, ALPHONSE DAUDET
made his exit. Our, "_Beau-bel Poète_" sends us his jingle:--

              DAUDET _est parti!_
              Good-bye my hearty!
      "_Fortiter in re, suaviter in modo,_"
      _Bon soir_ DAUDET! "_allez faire Dodo!_"

                                 * * *

AN INTERREGNUM OF BRUTALITY.--The _Times_ last week announced that

    "Applications for the vacant Chair of Humanity in the University
    of Edinburgh should be lodged not later than Saturday, June 29."

Alas! Poor Humanity! It may be news to many that the Chair of Humanity
is in the possession of the Northern University. Of course a very large
arm-chair, with arms to embrace all mankind. And a very easy chair.
Whoever sits in it is only a Professor, and what is mere profession
without practice?

                               * * * * *

                            OPERATIC NOTES.

_Tuesday._--Madame MELBA as _Juliette!_ Bless her heart, she must have
had a very large one, being a decidedly fine girl for her age, which I
believe was fifteen; while _Romeo_ was about nineteen, or thereabouts.
Mons. ALVAREZ, it is needless to add, looked quite "thereabouts." Both
singing and acting in first-rate style. _Jupiter-Plançon_, converted,
appears as _Frère Laurent_, which, sounding like "Law-wrong," is a name
rather descriptive of this worthy Friar's somewhat underhand proceedings
_Friar Law-wrong-Plain-song_ excellent. Full house night before the
Derby. If omens go for anything, the gentleman who was making a book in
the lobby, and who overheard some one speak of the opera as _Rosebery
and Juliette_, might have made a small fortune. The slip was a tip.

Some people say, "Why orchestra in 'well' below stage?" But Sir
DRURIOLANUS, with experience of general advantage to sound and sight,
says, "Shan't touch 'em. 'Leave well alone' is my motto." Exit Sir D.


_Saturday._--Strange case of _Rigoletto & Co._--"Co." being MELBA at her
best, BAUERMEISTER and clever JULIA RAVOGLI, with DE LUCIA as the Gay
Dook, ANCONA as the Fool, suggestive of the PAGLIACCI mummer with a
court appointment. "House full." MAUREL is coming. To _Falstaff_ and
_Don Giovani_ he will give a "high Maurel tone."

                               * * * * *


So many letters have reached me during the past week begging for my
opinion upon the legality of what may be termed sporting financial
speculation, that I scarcely apologise for asking the hospitality of the
columns of the leading law paper to give my response. No doubt the
inquiry has to some extent been fostered by the report that I was seen
taking part in the hippodromatic revels of the Derby Day. It is true
that I certainly visited Epsom on the occasion in question; but only in
a semi-official capacity. I have the honour to be consulting assessor of
the Diamond Mine Salting Syndicate, Limited, and in that desirable
position have frequently attended the meetings of the directors on
occasions, so to speak, outside the Board-room. It is true that my
experience as one learned in the law is seldom required at such seasons,
still the directors, as fiduciaries, are to be applauded for neglecting
no opportunity of availing themselves of my services.

Having satisfactorily explained how it came that I was on the Downs
when, by a not unnatural coincidence, the Derby was decided, I proceed
to consider the question that has been propounded to me. Is sporting
speculative finance illegal? It is not a matter that can be decided
off-hand. One must be careful not to interfere with the policy of trade,
and do nothing to impede the development of honest industry. I am asked
by a correspondent, who dates "From Sheffield," if there is anything
undignified in his appearing as a "bookie" in a pink velvet coat, a
yellow slouch hat, with blue feathers, and black leather knickerbockers.
I can see no objection to a tradesman wearing any costume he determines
to select. It would perhaps be as well not to attempt to disguise his
features, as the operation might savour of secrecy, the chief element of
fraud. This limitation of course does not apply to an auctioneer, who,
having his name and address displayed on a board hanging on the rostrum
he occupies, can legally carry on his business, if it so pleases him, in
a false nose, a comic wig, and a pair of green spectacles.

But really, a consideration of the costume of the "bookie" merely
reaches the fringe of the subject. The real point at issue is this--Is
betting legal or illegal? It is hard to say. That a bet made on the
racecourse is recoverable is questionable. Suppose that A is prepared to
give odds against _The Earl's Choice_ (the favourite, quoted officially
at 2 to 1) at the rate of five shillings against one thousand pounds
sterling. Presume that B agrees to the wager and _The Earl's Choice_
wins. B naturally asks for the immediate payment by A of one thousand
pounds sterling. A declines. Has B any remedy against A? I am afraid
that the Court (although allowing costs on the higher scale) would not
assist the plaintiff in making good his claim. However, it would be
possible for B to represent to the other side that the conduct of A was
of a character warranting chronic detention in a lunatic asylum. If this
suggestion were adopted with the necessary discretion, I have no doubt
that a compromise satisfactory to B would eventually be the outcome of
the negotiations.

However, although I am a little uncertain about other bets, I have no
doubt in my own mind that coach sweepstakes under certain circumstances
should be discouraged. I do not wish to rely upon case law, but would
rather appeal to that honest, manly feeling that is (so I have been
given to understand) the birthright of every Englishman. When all Nature
is smiling, and man (smoking a three-shilling cigar) is at rest, why
trouble about mounts and starters and blanks?

I have in my mind at this moment the drawing of a certain sweepstakes.
An eminent counsel (I will not mention his name), was present and drew a
blank. On his behalf I appeal for a revision, a reversal of judgment. Do
not let there be a mixture of the glories of Nature with the ups and
down of sporting speculative practice. Let those who took part in that
sweep--winners and losers alike--return their stakes. I will hold them
on the general behalf. Then when I have received the cash as trustee I
will find out that eminent counsel and place the money in his hands. I
have nothing more to add, save to set forth as a guarantee of good faith
my signature warranted by my address.

                                               A. BRIEFLESS, JUNIOR.

    _Pump-handle Court, June_ 1, 1895.

                               * * * * *


    ["_Punch_ made a great hit" (in his last Cartoon "A Doubtful
    Stayer"), "and will probably take credit to himself for having
    been one of the very few who 'tipped' _Sir Visto_ for the
    Derby."--_Leeds Mercury._]

      Thanks, Mercury, thanks! Acclaim from all ranks
        Declares _Mr. Punch_ is _the_ prophet to follow.
      The Public rejoices, and Mercury voices
        The popular praise due to Punchius Apollo.
      The oracular god, with a genial nod,
        Admits that he knew it, foresaw it, and _said_ it!
      But oh, deary, deary! His pen it would weary
        If for all his successful straight tips he "took credit."
      At Delphi of old they _sometimes_ hit the gold;
        _Punch's_ oracles nought to equivocal mist owe.
      No riddle or rebus contents the new Phoebus,
        So all wise men twigged when he tipped 'em _Sir Visto!_

                               * * * * *

                          OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.


The particular Baronitess to whom the Baron handed over _The Holy
Estate_ (a novel in three volumes, by two authors, W. H. WILKINS and
FRANK THATCHER, published by HUTCHINSON & CO.), says that in explanation
it is called by its authors "a study in morals," but where the morals
come in or come out it would be difficult to say. Apparently, in the
majority of the characters, there is a singular lack of any virtuous
quality. A young innocent girl marries a gay soldier and goes out to
India. Here she finds herself placed in a land where principles are
decidedly at a discount. Her husband turns out, to put it mildly, a
blackguard (with a big, big "B"), and his friends are of the same
fascinating type. In a typical, melodramatic, "Adelphi villain," there
is something almost wholesome as compared with the modern bad man of
"_Yellow-Book_" fiction, who is simply revolting. [By the way,
interpolates the Baron, the latest _Yellow Book_ is comparatively quite
decorous and without an Aubrey-Beardsley illustration!!] Of course, the
hero and heroine of _The Holy Estate_ have to pass through the fiery
ordeal of Indian Society; how they come out of it the reader may
discover. But as pessimism is the artistic order of the day, they are
not allowed to finish well and "live happy ever afterwards." My
Baronitess adds, with a frown, "It cannot be called pleasant reading,
nor is there in it any sign of the genius of a DAUDET or a ZOLA which
might be accepted as, in some sort, a literary excuse for its being
brought into existence."

                                   (Signed) THE BARON DE BOOK-WORMS.

                               * * * * *

                           As Broad as Long.

_First Critic._  Shortness now rules in Novel and in Song,
                   Which, like men's clothes, are cut and made to order.

_Second Critic._ It may be Tale and Lay are now less long,
                   But they make up for it by growing broader.

                                 * * *

SPORTING PARADOX.--ROSEBERY was more of a "favourite" when he was an
"outsider." Perhaps, like his _Sir Visto_, when an outsider again--which
he seems likely soon to be--he will be safer to back for a "place," if
not for an absolute win.

                                 * * *


                               * * * * *

[Illustration: A FORTIORI.



                               * * * * *


   (_An old Comic Song re-sung for the benefit of a French Critic._)

    ["As for English women, their looks and their dress, the less
    said the better. They have, in M. DAUDET'S opinion, neither
    beauty nor taste."--_The Times' Correspondent in Paris._]


      Oh, ALPHONSE! Gallantry befits your race!
                              DAUDET! DAUDET!
      Can you look hereafter in an Englishwoman's face,
                              DAUDET? DAUDET-say?
          You must have snoozed all night,
            You must have blinked all day;
      Have been blind--_pro tempore_--to Beauty's light,
                              DAUDET! DAUDET-say!

      Is every Englishwoman then a Grundy or a Gamp,
                              DAUDET? DAUDET?
      Did you play Diogenes--without his lamp--
                              DAUDET? DAUDET-say?
          Have you joined the pessimist churls
            Who of nothing good can say,
      That you slight our women and insult our girls,
                              DAUDET? DAUDET-say?

      Oh, Dan seems empty and Beersheba bare,
                              DAUDET! DAUDET!
      And there's nothing tasteful, and there's no one fair,
                              DAUDET! DAUDET-say!
          To the saffron skin of France
            English rose-tints must give way?
      At our British Beauties _did_ you get a glance,
                              DAUDET? DAUDET-say?

      You laud male Britons, whilst you pour dispraise--
                              DAUDET! DAUDET!--
      On our girls and matrons! 'Tis a travellers' craze,
                              DAUDET! DAUDET-say!
          The Frank abroad--is frank,--
            From the _belles_ of France away,
      He is doubtless home-sick, but he need not turn "crank."
                              DAUDET! DAUDET-say!

      The less said the better? Well, _that's_ true, no doubt,
                              DAUDET! DAUDET!
      But the little that you _have_ said is all sneer and flout,
                              DAUDET! DAUDET-say!
          The maids of France are fair!--
            Are the men _fair_ too? Ah! nay.
      Not if _you_'re a specimen, my debonair
                              DAUDET! DAUDET-say!

      Neither taste nor beauty? Oh! you _must_ have been bad,
                              DAUDET! DAUDET!
      The _mal de mer_ all the time you must have had,
                              DAUDET! DAUDET-say!
          The jaundice worked its will
            Upon you all the way!
      Try again--after swallowing a big blue pill--
                              DAUDET! DAUDET-say!

                               * * * * *

                             Sands and Sea.

            (_By a Harrow Boy who was "ploughed" at Exam._)

"Ploughing the sands" has been shown, in a letter to the _Times_, to be,
in some cases, a productive operation. If the sands are well ploughed,
and well sown, then may a fine crop be expected. When "Ploughing the
sands" is no longer remunerative, then let all hands be summoned aboard,
and the Government vessel in search of General Election Island may
"Plough the sea," and come safely into port. What is successful
"ploughing" to them will be "harrowing" to the Opposition.

                               * * * * *

"O SUCH A DAY WAS NEVER SEEN!"--Mr. Justice DAY is always a bright,
never a dull DAY. His judicial utterances are like the sea around the
Isle of Man, clear and profound. Rarely does he miss a good point; yet
so it was the other day when, in a trial of "_Legge_ v." a heap of
people (not involving any question of "Legge bail"), Mr. Justice DAY
observed, "I find now very high rank held by doctors in the Army. There
are Captain-surgeons, Colonel-surgeons, and I am not sure there are not
Generals. (_Laughter._)" "Not sure," Mr. Justice! Why 'tis as clear as
Day! There is another and a higher grade, viz., "General-Practitioner."

                               * * * * *


                               * * * * *



                               * * * * *

FIGURE.--For 260 guineas Mr. W. AGNEW purchased "_Lambeth Palace--in the
distance_." It is no "distance" to speak of, as twopence more will take
the purchaser by steam-boat from almost any landing-stage across the
river to Lambeth. It should perhaps be added, so as not to frighten the
Archbishop of CANTERBURY, that in the purchase were included "_Old
Westminster Bridge (a view of), with State Barges and Boats_." The whole
Thames-water-colour having been painted in oil by SCOTT. This lot, by
Great SCOTT, went as above-mentioned.

                                 * * *


                                 * * *

"WANTS TO KNOW."--"Dear Sir,--I saw a paragraph in the _Times_ quite
recently headed '_A Confirmed Pickpocket_.' I am all for the religious
improvement of the dangerous classes, and what I want to know is
_Firstly_, Was the lad a pickpocket before he was confirmed? _Secondly_,
Or, did he become a pickpocket after confirmation? _Thirdly_, What
bishop or curate was responsible for his confirmation? Other questions
arise out of this case, but these are enough for the present.

                                     Yours,      A FEMALE SEARCHER."

                                 * * *

FROM OUR OWN SMALL SCHOLAR.--"That's where I should like to be," sighed
SAM SUCKER minimus, as in his geography lesson he read the name of
Orange Free State. "Fancy, oranges free!!"

                               * * * * *

                          A MODEL REMODELLED.

The "Revised Edition"--probably to style it "The Revised Version" would
savour too much of the Biblical Committee Room--of _An Artist's Model_
now removed to the Lyric is occasionally "funny," though not absolutely
"without being" occasionally "vulgar." Its weakest point is its story,
but as the plot only occasionally obtrudes itself upon the audience, the
weakest point is, therefore, not worth mentioning, only its strong
points, which consist in MARIE TEMPEST'S singing, but not in what she
has to sing, and in Miss LETTY LIND'S mild warbling and charming
dancing, which latter thoroughly deserves the hearty encores she
obtains, as does also Mr. FARKOA'S capital rendering of an otherwise not
particularly brilliant French laughing song. Mr. ERIC LEWIS and Mr. W.
BLAKELEY attain great distinction by their clever rendering of nothing
in particular.

Mr. HAYDEN COFFIN appears depressed. But comic relief to his sentimental
sadness is given by both LAWRANCE D'ORSAY, with as much of the
traditional D'ORSAY courtliness that is left of it, and Mr. FARREN
SOUTAR, worthy inheritor of a double talent. Lyrics of H. GREENBANK
neat, as they always are; but the compositions of Mr. SIDNEY JONES will
probably "keep the stage," as it is impossible, at one hearing, at all
events, to carry any of it away with you. The "house," on this occasion,
excellent; far better than the piece.

                               * * * * *

                             Joseph's Coat.

    ["There is a Chinese regiment which enjoys the terrible and
    glorious appellation of 'The Tiger-Braves.' They are dressed in
    coats covered with spots to resemble the skin of the animal from
    which they take their name.... The Government are a regiment of
    Tiger-Braves."--_Mr. Chamberlain at Birmingham._]

      JOE, who should know all about "beasts" and "caves,"
      Now calls his whilom colleagues "Tiger-Braves."
      Well, his own coat bears strange new Party blots,
      He is a leopard who _has_ "changed his spots."

                               * * * * *

morning concert for June 11 at Prince's Hall. The audience will be
there, and he will be always "Reddie, aye Reddie." Exhausted after
playing, he will re-appear and be _Reddie-vivus_; and, in fact, there is
a perfect store of puns on his name which must have frequently occurred
to himself as a Reddie-witted person. That he is to be assisted by M.
EMIL SAURET on the violin no one will be Sauret to hear; and that
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE gives his name and presence on this occasion will
make the concert ever memorable. Concert under direction of ubiquitous
DANIEL MAYER, in himself Mayer and Corporation of musical world.

                                 * * *

CITY INTELLIGENCE.--In view of the French President's accepting an
invitation from the LORD MAYOR, the Common Councillors are daily
practising a bacchanalian chorus, in harmony, of which the words are:--

      "_Faure!_ he's a jolly good fellow,
        And so say all of us!"

                                 * * *


                                 * * *


                                 * * *

COMBINED DISPLAY OF ALL ARMS.--A _soirée dansante_ during the season.

                               * * * * *



                               * * * * *

                      "WATERS, WATERS EVERYWHERE!"

One of the reasons for the popularity of Apollinaris Water mentioned the
other day at a "meeting of the waters" was, that men generally soon
became on such intimate terms with this water-nymph as to be able to
speak of her familiarly as "Polly." "Whisky and Polly" seemed to go so
well together as to be suggestive of a round dance, in which the admirer
of "Polly" was whisky-ing her round the ball-room. The gradual rise of
Johannis in public opinion, delayed, of course, in the first place, by
politeness on the part of "Johnnie," who must cede the _pas_ to "Polly,"
is due to the fact that the aërated-water drinkers had not made up their
minds as to whether Johannis was to be addressed as "Jo" or "Johnnie."
We believe that "Johnnie" is now the accepted appellation. Whether
"Johnnie" and "Polly" are on the best terms, this deponent knoweth not;
nor is he aware that during the season The Bishop of Bath and Wells or
The Bishop of Sodor-water-and-Man will bless the union of "Johnnie" and
"Polly," though at one time there was a report to that effect. To alter
the title of the old semi-nautical drama, _Poll and Partner Joe_, of
which the second hero was a Water-man, "Poll and her Partner Johnnie"
ought to get on well together.

                               * * * * *

                           AFTER WHITSUNTIDE.

_Brown._ You're looking extremely well.

_Jones._ Never fitter!

_Brown._ Took a run to Paris, eh?

_Jones._ No. Saw French play, though.

_Brown._ Went to seaside or river, eh?

_Jones._ No. Can't stand expensive discomfort. I had some decent
boating, though.

_Brown._ Went for inland scenery?

_Jones._ No; although I sauntered under noble trees, and got some
magnificent views.

_Brown._ Switzerland? Italy?

_Jones._ No time for long journeys. I enjoyed fine air, and walked
twenty miles a day; studied fine Old Masters, and enjoyed a stroll in a
museum which has no equal.

_Brown._ Really!! Then, in the name of wonder, _where_ have you been

_Jones._ In London.

                                    [_Farewells exchanged, and exeunt._

                               * * * * *

                        A KNIGHT OF THE WILLOW;

                    _Or, why not "Sir W. G. Grace"?_

    ["Dr. W. G. GRACE, whose name has been everywhere of
    late--except where it might well have been, on the Birthday
    Honours list."--_Times._]

      Why not? Great Scott! "The play's the thing,"
      Before the footlights, round the ring
        At Lord's, it little matters,--
      Easily first _is_ easily first!
      Just fancy what a glorious burst
      From throats aglow with zeal--and thirst--
        Would hail the Knight of Batters!

      They've shouted for him many a time,
      Whose mellow age is still his prime,
        And others' youth surpasses;
      But how they'd make the welkin split
      If honours donors had the wit
      To knight this Hero of the Hit,
        And favourite of the masses!

      "The play's the thing." Sir HENRY IRVING
      Sounds well. Who'll question _his_ deserving
        When 'midst the knights they place it?
      But here's a player just as great
      In his own field. Why should he wait?
      However high be knighthood's state,
        The name of GRACE will grace it!

      What greater joy to crowds affords
      Than the announcement "GRACE at Lord's"?
        What lots of "Lords" and "Graces"
      Do less than England's W. G.
      To furnish genuine sport and glee
      To thousands, who still throng to see
        How well he "times" and "places."

      True, "Thunderer," true! He stands the test.
      Unmatched, unchallengeable Best
        At our best game! Requite him!
      For thirty years to hold first place,
      And still, unpassed, keep up the pace,
      Pleases a stout, sport-loving race.
        Sounds splendid. _Punch_ says--"_Knight him!_"

                               * * * * *

                     "IN THE NAME OF PROFIT--TOGS!"

It seems that the uniform of the SHAHZADA, worn by his Highness on State
occasions in England, was designed by a Briton, and consequently is not
included in the official garb of the Afghan Army. Presumably the same
sartorial artist was responsible for NASRULLA'S "get up" at the Derby.
The son of our ally appeared on that memorable occasion in "a harmony in
grey"--grey frock-coat, waistcoat and trousers, with grey fez turban to
match. No doubt the head-dress was relieved with a diamond worth
£1,000,000, or something of the sort, just to show that our guest was of
eastern origin. The following suggestion for complete outfits may be
found useful:--

_Yachting._--Suit of blue serge, covered with rubies and diamonds. Straw
hat, made of golden wire, encrusted with emeralds. Tan shoes, studded
with brilliants. Shirt of silver tissue, with collar and cuffs of virgin
gold. Telescope of turquoise, with sling of linked Queen Anne's guineas.

_Shooting._--Suit of ditto's of gold tissue. Shoulder-guard of diamonds.
Deer-stalker of birds of Paradise breast-feathers. Boots of young
crocodile leather, embroidered with lapis lazuli.

_Private Dinners._--Gold coat and trousers. Silver shirt and waistcoat.
Diamond opera hat and overcoat of various precious stones. Handkerchief
of woven brilliants. Necktie of antediluvian aluminium at £520 10_s._
4_d._ a grain.

                               * * * * *

                        TARTARIN SUR LA TAMISE.

M. ALPHONSE DAUDET has gone back to his own country. He is pleased with
us on the whole. We have learnt his language and read his books.

We are not so clever or intelligent as the French; but we are more
stable of purpose and despise ridicule, and keep ourselves well informed
about other countries. _L'enfant dit vrai, peut-être!_

Our women, however, are inferior to French women, as they lack either
beauty or taste: and the less said about their looks and dress the
better. _Toujours galant, "le petit Chose!" Pécaïré!_ TARTARIN has
surpassed himself; and if he manages to persuade his fair compatriots
that he is sincere in this, _il aura bien mérité de la patrie_; and will
recover all his old popularity. Nothing will remain for him but to prove
that we lost the Battle of Waterloo, and that the Lord Mayor is a more
important person than Queen VICTORIA. After that, "_Aux grands hommes de
la France, la Patrie reconnaissante_."

                                 * * *

_The Latest Edition of "The Chronicles of Holinshed,"_ written by JOHN
"of that ilk." Honest JOHN is outspoken. His motto is the truth and
nothing but the truth--as far as he can recollect it. His memory appears
to be good. JOHN is Frank.

                                 * * *

DRAMATIC TEMPORARY PROVERB (_adapted for Garrick Theatre_).--"When the
HARE is away the WILLARD will play."

                               * * * * *

[Illustration: INSULARITY.



                               * * * * *


                "_To wish is folly, to regret absurd._"

That I went out in my new hat and light summer clothes, and did not take
my umbrella the only day within the last fortnight when there was an
hour's rain.

That I had already accepted an invitation when one to a party that would
have been infinitely more pleasant all round subsequently arrived.

That I took that champagne last night, and some other things.

That I left off my winter "things" before summer had set in.

That I returned to my winter "things" just when summer weather did set

That I went out to supper and supped heartily.

That I didn't have that tooth out when it first pained me.

That my dentist should take a four days' holiday just when I wanted him

That I put into five sweeps and drew blank.

That I lent a man half-a-sovereign.

That I didn't back the winner.

                                 * * *

COMMERCIAL AND NAUTICAL.--Two City men, twin brothers and partners, in
character the very reverse of CHARLES DICKENS'S kind and generous
_Cheerybles_, are known as "The Twin Screws."

                                 * * *

WHITSUNTIDE.--"Don't stop in! I'll take you out if you'll only come," as
the dentist said to the tooth.

                               * * * * *

                         ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.


_House of Commons, Monday, May, 27._--RITCHIE back to-day, after long
absence. Changed address from Tower Hamlets to Croydon. Waiting to be
called to table by SPEAKER, had opportunity of hearing long debate round
Bill promoted by London County Council. RITCHIE, as President of Local
Government Board in last Ministry, made London County Council possible.
Happy thought to play him in, as it were, with County Council debate.

"Been out of it nearly three years now, TOBY," said RITCHIE, when, one
of a score of old members, I went to shake hands and bid him welcome;
"just the same old place; perhaps a little duller at the moment. What
they want is new blood, or, perhaps, better still, a re-infusion of old
blood. Can't give them a new County Council Bill; must try and make them
somehow sit up."

These thoughts pressed upon him as he stood at table signing Roll of
Parliament after having been sworn in. Brought his hat with him, as new
Members do, since, as yet, they have no peg to hang it on. Placed it on
table whilst he signed the Roll. Passing on to be introduced to SPEAKER,
observed with a start that there were two hats on the table. Odd. Was
sure he had brought only one. Blessed is the man who makes two blades of
grass grow where formerly only one peeped forth. Possibly analagous
benison for a man who, planting one hat down on a table, looks and
behold there are two. Happy omen; make the most of it; wouldn't do to go
off with two hats. House sure to remark it. Besides, how could he shake
hands with the SPEAKER holding a hat in either hand? Next best thing to
select the newest; did so with pretty air of abstraction; advanced one
step between table and Treasury Bench on way to SPEAKER'S chair when he
felt firm grip on his elbow, and a well known voice in his ear.

"Give me neither RITCHIES nor poverty, but do leave me my hat."

It was the voice of the SQUIRE OF MALWOOD.

"Oh, I beg your pardon. How d'ye do?" said RITCHIE, hurriedly returning
the SQUIRE'S Sunday hat, and taking up his own, which had suffered the
rigours of a wet and windy nomination day.

House cheered and laughed. KNATCHBULL-HUGESSEN gravely shook his head.
"That's all very well," said he. "But a man who would pander to the
lowest instincts of humanity by clearing the way for parish councils,
would do anything."

[Illustration: Ritchie Redivivus!

(From a sketch picked up near the Front Opposition Bench.)]

_Business done._--Another night's talk round Welsh Disestablishment

_Tuesday._--Prospect of hearing JOHN WILLIAM move adjournment of House
over Derby Day, and JOHN LENG reply on other side, sufficed to crowd
benches. Such encounter of wits rarely delights mankind these degenerate
days. Such lightness of touch! Such gleaming attack! Such brilliant
defence! In short, such badinage! Such persiflage! Old Members recall
earlier conflicts in same field. Young Members look back on clever
speech made by ELCHO in moving adjournment one year, capped by equally
brilliant speech when, in the following Session, he seconded WILFRID
LAWSON on the negative course. This and all else would be excelled when
JOHN WILLIAM began to jest, and LENG made light reply.

[Illustration: _Cromwell._ "Brother JOSEPH, Brother JOSEPH, for a
Roundhead I find thee in strange company!"

"But what a pity it is that we cannot revive Oliver Cromwell in the
flesh, and not only in marble."

                      _Mr. Chamberlain's Speech at Birmingham, May 29._]

This was natural expectation from reputation of these famous wits. In
dreary conversation that followed there was one solitary flicker of
humour; it was discovered by anxious searcher in the circumstance that
the whole business was utterly, hopelessly prosaic. There wasn't a laugh
in it from beginning to end. House begins to think it has had enough of
this elaborate annual tourney of humour. Next year, if motion for
adjournment over Derby Day is made, it will be better to have question
put forthwith, and so divide. Another experience like the exceedingly
bad half-hour endured this afternoon is more than should fall to the lot
of a single generation.

_Business done._--House agreed by 221 votes against 174 that it could
not afford to take a holiday. Straightway proceeded to waste remainder
of sitting in vain repetition of argument round clauses of Welsh
Disestablishment Bill.

_Thursday._--Well for PRINCE ARTHUR he chanced to be absent to-night
when Cap'en TOMMY BOWLES hauled alongside SILOMIO and raked him fore and
aft. KENYON, who knows more than you think when you hear him speak,
tells me it is pretty certain when the next Government is formed SILOMIO
will have his choice of succeeding either EDWARD GREY or SYDNEY BUXTON.
Neither office is of Cabinet rank. But with the chief in the Lords, a
statesman of SILOMIO'S ability and sagacity can make and keep a position
equal in importance and influence to some more highly placed. No one
will deny that the promotion will have been well earned. The Sheffield
Knight has, perhaps, been more prominently associated with the conduct
of Colonial affairs than with those nominally directed by Lord KIMBERLEY
with the assistance of EDWARD GREY. This is a view strengthened by the
circumstance of the honourable title conferred upon him by the
emissaries from Swaziland. Actually, SILOMIO knows quite as much of
Foreign Affairs as he does of Colonial.

To-night, on Vote on Account, he concentrated his attention on the
action of the Foreign Office. Surveying its operations from China to
Peru, he was constrained unreservedly to condemn them. Everywhere the
British Minister had truckled to the foreigner. The flag of England,
which the emigrants in the _Mayflower_ proudly carried with them even in
their exile, was dragged through every gutter of foreign capitals.

"There never was a time," said SILOMIO, "when this country was so
isolated among the nations of Europe."

This grand speech echoed through nearly empty House. PRINCE ARTHUR and
his colleagues on Front Opposition Bench, as usual, paid their
distinguished colleague the highest compliment. They knew he would say
the right thing in the right way, at the right time. Whilst he kept the
gate no traitor could pass, no harm befall a beloved country. So, with
one accord, they went off, leaving CASABIANCA SILOMIO to tread alone the
deck, burning with his eloquence.

On the benches behind sat only TOMLINSON, who sometimes wishes PRINCE
ARTHUR had a little more of SILOMIO'S go; KNATCHBULL-HUGESSEN who
doesn't think the Knight is quite the model of a country gentleman, but
likes to hear him shout at the Government; and Cap'en TOMMY BOWLES,
wearing his best Sunday ducks in honour of a sultry day that reminds him
faintly of breathless moments spent in the Forties in the Bight of

[Illustration: An Authority on Heraldry!

(Mr. Eg-rt-n All-n.)]

SILOMIO sat down and mopped the shining top of his patriotic head with a
handkerchief hemmed in Germany. The Cap'en, catching the Chairman's eye
with the hook that serves in place of the strong right hand cut off by
the flashing blade of the Moor whose felucca TOMMY was boarding under
the impression it was a ferry-boat, sprang to his feet. "Unthinking
diatribes," he called SILOMIO'S noble speech; lamented the effect upon
foreign powers of its delivery "by a responsible leader of the party";
and said much else that would have shocked the House had Members chanced
to be present. PRINCE ARTHUR, who so acutely felt, and so bitterly
resented, GEORGE RUSSELL'S recent sneer at the Patriot Knight, was
spared the anguish of the moment by that carefully concerted movement
which, happily, calls SILOMIO'S colleagues off the Front Bench when he
is about to discourse on Foreign Affairs.

_Business done._--Vote on Account agreed to.

_Friday._--House met to wind up business previous to Whitsun recess.
ALPHEUS CLEOPHAS, always considerate, been thinking over ways of
enjoying the holiday. Struck him nothing would be nicer than free
admission for M.P.'s and their friends to witness process of
vivisection. Put the matter before HOME SECRETARY in his genial way.
ASQUITH very sorry, but has no power to give the desired admission.
ALPHEUS CLEOPHAS a little depressed, but went off with the consciousness
that he had at least done his best.

"There is no enterprise in these people, TOBY," he complained. "We in
London are much behind the age. We haven't here what in Paris is, I
believe, called the Mor-gew: a nice, quiet place to turn into when you
are out holiday-making. I have my own resources. When house is shut and
I can't go about the basement and cellars smelling out the oil lamps, I
sit on edge of fountain in Trafalgar Square and sniff its balmy waters.
Everyone not equally independent. If we had only about the parks and in
the thoroughfares places open to the respectable public where they might
see vivisection going on, we should be a happier nation."

_Business done._--House adjourned for the Whitsun recess. Back again
June 10.

                               * * * * *

                          Wail of the Wire-puller.

      Oh dear, what can the matter be?
        R-S-B-RY doesn't seem hearty.
      'Tis very well winning the Derby "Blue Ribbon,"
        But _that_ will not bind up--our Party!

                                 * * *

NASRULLA KHAN.--On the Sunday immediately following his uncommonly
fatiguing first day in town, the SHAHZADA was requested to visit the
Zoo. Wire from Porcupine, who, on account of his splendid set of quills,
acts as Secretary to the Zoo Society, ran thus:--"_Will Khan visit
Zoo?_" Exhausted Receiver's reply brief but to the point, exhibiting
fine mastery of English language, "_Khan can't_."

                                 * * *


Transcriber Notes:

Passages in italics were indicated by _underscores_.

Small caps were replaced with ALL CAPS.

Throughout the document, the oe ligature was replaced with "oe".

Throughout the dialogues, there were words used to mimic accents of
the speakers. Those words were retained as-is.

The illustrations have been moved so that they do not break up
paragraphs and so that they are next to the text they illustrate.

Errors in punctuation and inconsistent hyphenation were not corrected
unless otherwise noted.

On page 267, a period was added after "sufferers from insomnia".

On page 267, "litte" was replaced with "little".

On page 273, "Lind s" was replaced with "Lind's".

On page 275, a single quotation mark was replaced with a double
quotation mark before "Ah, then, Sir, I suppose".

On page 275, a single quotation mark was replaced with a double
quotation mark after "Oh, I beg your pardon. How d'ye do?".

On page 275, "nea" was replaced with "near".

*** End of this Doctrine Publishing Corporation Digital Book "Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 108, June 8, 1895" ***

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