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Title: Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 108, May 18th, 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, May 18th, 1895" ***

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


Volume 108, May 18th 1895.

_edited by Sir Francis Burnand_

[Illustration: HOP PROSPECTS.


       *       *       *       *       *


    (_Some Way after Quisquis._)

  Oh, "lark," which all the "Comiques" sing,
    And every drunken rowdy pup, too;
  Sure you're a vicious, vulgar thing
    As ever toper swigged a cup to.

  Hints of the boozy and the blue
    Surround you; sodden brains you soften;
  Yet rhymsters make a song of you,
    And rowdies sing it--far too often.

  The aim of every loose-lipped lout
    Appears to be to "lark" divinely;
  When from his haunts he gets chucked out,
    He deems his "spree" has ended finely.

  He tracks the "lark"--aye, "like a bird,"
    Upon the turf, among its "daisies";
  But, by sweet SHELLEY, 'tis absurd,
    Foul bird of prey, to pipe your _praises!_

       *       *       *       *       *

A KIND OFFER.--A lady who is not well up in Parliamentary matters
writes to us saying that she has seen mentioned in the papers "Mr.
Speaker's Retirement Bill," and would very much like to know what the
amount is. Her admiration for the late SPEAKER is so great that, our
fair correspondent goes on to say, she would willingly defray the
whole amount herself, or if the total be too much for her pocket,
then would she cheerfully head a subscription list. She is perfectly
certain that Mr. PEEL was a very moderate man, and therefore the
entire sum cannot be very startling.

       *       *       *       *       *


    ["Advertisements for some time past have been inserted in
    Government publications."--_Daily Paper._]

SCENE--_Room of a_ Secretary of State. _Present_ Right Hon. Gentleman
_attended by his_ Private Secretary.

_Right Hon. Gentleman._ Well, TENTERFORE, anything for me this

_Private Secretary._ I think not. You will find that I have worked out
the answers to to-day's questions--the list is not a very heavy one,
only a couple of dozen queries or thereabouts.

_Rt. Hon. Gent._ That's right. Such a lot of time is wasted in that
sort of thing. And has anyone come for me?

_Priv. Sec._ No one of importance. A fellow with a new invention or
something of that sort. Said you were extremely busy just now, but
that if he would write, his letter would receive the attention of the

_Rt. Hon. Gent._ Was he satisfied?

_Priv. Sec._ (_smiling_). Well, I fear not entirely. I think he must
have had some experience of Government offices. He said he preferred
to see you personally.

_Rt. Hon. Gent._ (_amused_). I daresay he would. Anyone else?

_Priv. Sec._ Only a man about advertisements.

_Rt. Hon. Gent._ (_aghast_). You did not send _him_ away?

_Priv. Sec._ Well, no. I believe he is still in the waiting-room. But
surely you don't want to see him?

_Rt. Hon. Gent._ Of course I do. A most important person. Send a
messenger for him at once. (_Exit_ Private Secretary.) That's the
worst of TENTERFORE--so impulsive! Means well, but so very impulsive!
(_Knock._) Ah, here comes my visitor. (_Enter stranger._) My very dear
Sir, I am delighted to see you. (_He shakes hands warmly and
provides him with an arm-chair._) I am sorry you should have been
detained--quite a mistake.

_Stranger_ (_surprised_). You are most kind. I come about some

_Rt. Hon. Gent._ I know, my dear Sir, I know. Now what can I tempt
you with? You arrive at a most fortunate moment. We are thinking of
letting the sides of our cruisers for posters. The Mediterranean fleet
will be a most excellent medium. We can do sixteen double crowns at
a very reasonable rate; of course the Admiral's flag-ship would be a
trifle extra. Is your leading article soap, pickles, or hair-dye?

_Stranger._ I am afraid you do not understand me.

_Rt. Hon. Gent._ Oh yes, I do; but, if you object to marine
advertisements, I think we can suit you on land. We have several
commanding positions on the colours of some of the most popular
regiments in the service vacant. (_Showing plans._) You see we can
insert type--we object to blocks--on the material without interfering
with the badges or the victories. A most admirable medium, I assure

_Stranger._ You really are in error. I wish to say----

_Rt. Hon. Gent._ (_interrupting_). Yes, I know. You think that
something would be better. Well, we can put advertisements on the
backs of all petitions presented to Parliament, and let you out
hoardings in front of the more prominent of the Government offices.
How would that suit you?

_Stranger._ Really, you must allow me to explain. Advertisements
of matters interesting to mariners--such as notices of wrecks--are
inserted solely in the _London Gazette_ and----

_Rt. Hon. Gent._ Ah, you are thinking of the sky signs. Well, of
course, we might utilise the lighthouses, but we have not quite made
up our minds whether such a course might not cause confusion in misty

_Stranger._ I was going to propose that the Government might feel
inclined to insert the advertisements to which I have referred in a
paper with which I am connected, and which is extensively circulated
amongst seafaring men.

_Rt. Hon. Gent._ (_astounded_). You want _me_ to give _you_ an
advertisement! No, Sir; now that we have taken up advertisements we
insert them and don't give them out. (_Enter_ Private Secretary.) Mr.
TENTERFORE, be so good as to explain to this gentleman that my time is

    [_Scene closes in upon the_ Secretary of State _performing the
    now rather miscellaneous duties appertaining to his office._

       *       *       *       *       *

mastered our idioms, but he has made a pun in English, when saying,
"_J'y suis, moi, Daudet; je pars demain_," _i.e._, "I am here
_Do-day_, and gone to-morrow."

       *       *       *       *       *

SUGGESTION.--"_The Attaree Khat Tea Co._" is a nice name. Why
not follow with the "_Attaree Khat and Kitten Milk Co._"? Very
attaree-active to some pussons.

       *       *       *       *       *

STRAUSS ORCHESTRA.--"STRAUSS shows how the wind is to blow."

       *       *       *       *       *

"INFANT PHENOMENON!"--At Drury Lane, the arduous part of _Don Cæsar_
in the opera of _Maritana_ was last Friday played by a CHILD!

       *       *       *       *       *


       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: SOCIAL AGONIES.



_Lord Boreham_ (_from behind his Newspaper_). "PRAY CONSIDER YOURSELF

    [_Which is quite true!_

       *       *       *       *       *


  Dear CHARLIE,--'Ow are you, old shipmate? _I_'ve bin layin' low
          for a time.
  'Ard years these 'ere Nineties, my nibs, yus, and bizness 'as bin
          fur from prime.
  All grind and no gay galoot, CHARLIE, of late 'as bin _my_ little
  An' between you and me _and_ the post, I think most things is
          going to pot!

  It's Newness wot's doing it, CHARLIE! "Lor! _that_'s a rum
          gospel," sez you.
  Well, p'raps in your green tooral-looral you don't hear so much of
          the New;
  But in town with New Art, and New Women, New Drammer, New Humour,
          and such,
  There seems nothink _old_ left in creation, save four-arf, and
          DANNEL'S old Dutch.

  _She_'s old, and no hapricots, CHARLIE. But DANNEL'S a decentish
  And the way as _she_ lays down the law about up-to-date woman _is_
  'Er nutcrackers clitter and clatter; and when she is fair on the
  Concernin' fresh feminine fashions, you bet it's a reglar knock-out!

  I took LIL, DANNEL'S youngest, larst week to the play, with some
          tickets I'd got.
  Well, paperers mustn't be choosers. But oh, mate, of all the
          dashed rot
  They ever chucked over the footlights, this 'ere Probblem Play wos
          the wust!
  It left me with brain discumfuddled, the blues, and a thundering

  It gave poor LIL 'ARRIS the 'orrors. "Lor, 'ARRY," she sez, coming
  "They've styged it, no doubt, tol-lol-poppish, but wot _is_ the
          'ole thing about?
  I feel just as creepy and 'oller, along o' these 'ere warmed-up
  As if I'd bin dining on spiders. Eugh! Let's 'ave a glarss at 'The

  It took two 'ot tiddleys to warm 'er. An' when I was blowin' a cloud
  A-top o' the tram going 'ome, she sez, "'ARRY," sez she, "_I_
          ain't proud,
  But don't tyke me never no more to no New Woman nonsense," sez she.
  "It's narsty; and not one good snivel _or_ larf in the whole

  "I don't call them _people_, I don't." "No; they're probblems,
          _Lil_, that's wot _they_ are.
  She-probblem a tearin' 'er 'air, whilst the he-probblem sucks 'is
  Two gurl-probblems sniffing at Marriage, that played-out old
          farce--at sixteen!--
  I thought we was fair up-to-date, _Lil_, but, bless yer, we're
          simply pea-green!"

  And when we arrived at Lamb's Conduit Street, old DANNEL 'ARRIS'S
  His old Dutch got fair on the grind, and when started she's orkud
          to stop.
  "New Woman?" sez she. "_She_'s no clarss, LIL, and don't know a
          mite where she are.
  Yah! _We_ used to call 'em Old Cats; and a sootabler name, too, by

  "There ain't nothink new in _their_ Newness; it's only old garbige
          warmed up.
  Mere bubble-and-squeak. The stale taters and greens on which poor
          people sup
  Is 'olesome compared with sich offal. Yah! Weddings'll outlast
          _that_ lot;
  And while gals is gals the old Eve'll jest make the new evil seem

  The jawsome old guffin wos right, _Charlie_; leastways, she wosn't
          fur out.
  Yer female footballers and bikers, as swagger and go on the shout,
  And spile a good sport _and_ their hancles, are not more complete
          off the track
  Than them as "revolt"--agin Nature, and cock their she-bokos--at

  All splutter-sludge, CHARLIE! On styge or on cinder-path, sillypop
  As want to play Man and _be_ Woman are trying to fly without wings,
  Or fight without fistes. Are Men, the world's masters--like you,
          mate, and Me--
  To be knocked out by probblems in petticoats? Wot bloomin'

  The Old Dutch, and young LIL, and myself are all much of a mind on
          this job.
  Old 'ARRIS sez men are not in it. _He_ don't mean it, I'll bet a
  It ain't very likely, not now, that Yours Scrumptiously ever
          _will_ marry;
  But _if_ I should tyke a Old Woman, it won't be no New Woman!


       *       *       *       *       *


_Alice_ (_whose dress has suffered_). "WORSE THAN THAT--HE WILL NEVER

       *       *       *       *       *


A splendid show, though some of the children are neither fair nor
beautiful. Note No. 114, "_The Chinese Boy_," by Sir JOSHUA. He is a
boy, certainly, but his complexion has a mahogany tinge not usually
associated with loveliness. CATHERINE DE MEDICIS, if we may judge by
No. 67, was a plain, decent, housewifely body, with a family of four
horrors, three male and one female, all of whom, eventually, wore
a crown. Can it be possible that _La Reine Margot_ ever looked like
_that?_ If so, the great DUMAS is convicted of gross deceit. For a
screaming farce in oil, let the visitor look at No. 155, "_The Infant
Johnson_," by Sir JOSHUA. Some one has evidently suggested to the
baby lexicographer that he should have a bath. Naturally enough he
is furious at the idea. "Sir," he seems to say, "let us take a
perambulator down Fleet Street, or anywhere else, but let us not
bathe." Can there not be found a companion picture of the mighty
infant in a cheerful mood, prattling out a "What, nurse, are you for a
frolic? Then I'm with you." In a case labelled No. 454 are to be seen
toys, dolls, and playthings found in Children's Tombs in Egypt.
Here, too, is the "_Mummy of a Baby_." "I see the baby," observed an
intelligent child-visitor; "but where is its Mummy? _My_ Mummy never
ties baby up like that."

       *       *       *       *       *

NOT DUE NORTH.--The _North British Daily Mail_, referring to the
rumour that the Prince of WALES may go to New York in the autumn
to see the contest for the America Cup, says: "There will be better
racing on the Clyde than there was last year. Let the PRINCE come
north at midsummer this year." Very likely the race on the Clyde will
be a good one. But our Scottish contemporary forgets that a visit to
the United States on the part of H.R.H. would be to the advantage of
two races--the American and the British. It would be sure to cause
good feeling on either side of the Atlantic. Why should not Caledonia

       *       *       *       *       *

BY OUR OWN CRICKET ON THE HEARTH.--For any ordinary English team to
attempt tackling the Australian Eleven coming over here next season,
would show not so much the merit of the team, but its team-erity.

       *       *       *       *       *


    SCENE--_Anywhere_. _Present_, BROWN _and_ JONES.

_Brown_ (_perusing paper_). Capital speech of ARTHUR J. BALFOUR at the
Newspaper Society's Dinner the other evening. His compliments to the
Press were in every way deserved.

_Jones_ (_also reading a journal_). Quite so. I am glad to see that
the admirable publication I am now devouring objects to gambling in
all its branches.

_Brown._ So does this. There is an excellent leader on the fourth page
exposing the scandals of the Stock Exchange.

_Jones._ And here I find on page two a most earnest attack upon the
abuses of the turf.

_Brown._ Such intelligent comments should do a world of good.

_Jones._ I am sure of it. I know, speaking for myself, I feel much
better after perusing a column that might have supplied the pabulum of
a sermon.

_Brown._ Just my case. It really strengthens one's moral perceptions
to come across such noble sentiments. Well, as we have both read the
leaders, let us exchange papers.

_Jones._ With pleasure, only I want just to glance at the latest odds.
This journal gives the latest information on all matters connected
with racing and the turf generally.

_Brown._ Just so, that is why I wanted to read it. Well, I must fill
up the time by looking at the money article. Commend me to the city
editor of this favourite production when you want to have a gentle

       *       *       *       *       *

"KEY-NOTES."--In anticipation of H.R.H. the Prince of WALES visiting
the Isle of Man later in the year, though at present

  The Prince of WALES declines, with thanks,
  The invitation sent from Manx,

the House of Keys has put every quay on the bunch at His Royal
Highness's disposal for landing.

       *       *       *       *       *

FLOWER SHOWS AND CITY BUSINESS.--"_Preference Stocks._ Chatham Seconds
_Rose_." What a sweet combination of colour and scent per scent!

       *       *       *       *       *


"Inevitable" is the new cant phrase, and certain phrases _are_
inevitable, it would seem.

It is inevitable, if you should happen to beg the pardon of one of the
lower middle class, that he (or more generally _she_) will reply with

It is inevitable, if you converse with a young Oxonian of immature
intellect, that he will murder the QUEEN'S, or (as he would call
it) Quagger's, English by some such expression as "What a beastly
sensagger!" or invite you to "stagger for the dagger" (_i.e._ stay for
the day). But competent authorities are inclined to think that this
laborious form of undergraduate wit, or "wagger," is doomed to speedy

It is inevitable that the would-be smart business person, when
inditing a circular or club notice, will say, "Forward _same_," or, "I
inclose _same_," instead of "_it_," whatever it may happen to be.

It is inevitable that, when 'ARRY wishes to be familiarly polite at
parting, he will take his leave with "So long."

It is inevitable that, when a young City man desires to express his
disapproval of any individual or thing, he will dismiss it as "no

It is inevitable, if you make any surprising or absurd statement to a
Yankee, that his comment thereon will be, "Is that so!"

It is inevitable, if you meet an actor "resting" in the Strand, that
he will ask you to "Name it," and you will proceed to do so (possibly
at your own expense) at one or more of the excellent drinking-bars in
that locality.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: A YORKSHIRE GOSSIP.



       *       *       *       *       *


    ["Certain Members object to attending the SPEAKER'S dinner or
    _levées_ in full dress."]

_Mr. Speaker._

  "Oh, ye must walk in silk attire,
    And swords and buckles wear,
  Gin ye wad come to dine wi' me,
    Or tend my _levées_ mair."

_The Members._

  "Oh, what's to us your silken show,
    And swords and buckles smart?--
  And if you still insist upon 't,
    Then you and we must part!"

_Mr. Speaker._

  "Then ye shall come in what attire
    It suits ye best to wear,
  Gin ye 'll consent to mind the Whip,
    Nor plague the Party mair."

       *       *       *       *       *

WORTHY OBJECT.--It is encouraging to hear of a "_Mission to Deep Sea
Fishermen_." The deeper the sea-fishermen are, the more necessary is
the mission. These Deep Sea-Fishermen are generally supposed to be
able to look after their own soles; but now they will receive aid in
their work. As the Bishop of LIVERPOOL is a prominent patron of this
good work, it may be taken for granted that most of these deep 'uns
are fishermen in his Lordship's See.

       *       *       *       *       *

AN ACQUITTAL.--With what a sense of relief does a _bon vivant_ who has
been brought up by Corporal AILMENT before the Doctor's Court Martial
hear the verdict of "Not Gouty!"

       *       *       *       *       *


(_A Natural Development of the Modern System of Suppression._)

    SCENE--_Interior of one of the Royal Courts. Customary
    occupants and surroundings._ Witness _in the box undergoing

_First Counsel._ And now will you give me the name of the person you
met on that occasion?

_Second Counsel._ I do not wish to interfere without reason; but
surely it is unnecessary to introduce third parties into this inquiry.

_Witness._ Perhaps I might follow the plan I adopted in my
examination-in-chief and write the name on a piece of paper?

_The Judge._ That seems a reasonable course to pursue.

_First Counsel._ As your Lordship pleases. Then be so good as to give
me the name as suggested. (Witness _complies_.) Thank you. (_After
reading the paper._) Do you spell the name with a final "e"?

_Second Counsel._ Really, my learned friend is carrying matters too
far. If the anonymity of third parties is to be preserved, such a
leading question would reveal the identity at once.

_The Judge._ I suppose you mean that the query about the final "e"
would indicate that the veiled name was "BROWNE."

_Second Counsel._ Quite so, my lord; that is a conclusion that would
be accepted by persons of the most ordinary intelligence.

_First Counsel._ But as a matter of fact, the name to which I refer
is certainly neither BROWN nor BROWNE. I will submit the paper to your

_The Judge_ (_after perusing the slip which has been handed to him by
an usher_). Dear me! I am greatly surprised!

_Foreman of the Jury._ May we, my lord, learn the name?

_First Counsel._ So far as I am concerned, I shall be only too pleased
to allow the Gentlemen of the Jury to have the fullest information on
the point.

_Second Counsel._ If I object, it is not because I have not the
greatest confidence in the Jury's discretion, but simply as a matter
of principle.

_First Counsel._ I do not see how the affair is a matter of principle,
but if my learned friend objects I have no wish to push the point
further. (_Turning to_ Witness.) And now, where did you meet this
person whose name we have arranged to leave undiscovered?

_Witness._ Perhaps you will allow me to write the locality on a piece
of paper and pass it round?

_The Judge._ I think we may do that.

_First Counsel._ As your Lordship pleases. (_Course suggested
pursued._) And now, have you ever seen any one else on the subject?

_Witness._ Certainly. (_Produces a scroll._) Here is a list. I have
purposely written their names in shorthand, so that they may only be
recognised by those who have a knowledge of PITMAN'S method.

_The Judge._ Certainly.

_First Counsel._ And that, my Lord, is my case.

    [_Sits down._

_The Judge._ And now, Gentlemen, before we proceed further, I would
like to make a suggestion. When we commenced this trial we arranged
that the names of the Plaintiff and Defendant should not be made
public. Since then it seems to me that we should learn them. What do
you say, Gentlemen?

_Foreman of the Jury._ We share your Lordship's curiosity.

_The Judge_ (_addressing Counsel_). You hear.

_First Counsel_ (_after consultation with his opponent_). My Lord, I
need scarcely say that both my friend and myself are most anxious
to meet the wishes of your Lordship. But as this is a point of great
importance to our clients, we should like to have an opportunity
of consulting them. No doubt the names asked for might only have a
limited circulation--be known only to your Lordship and the Gentlemen
of the Jury. Still there are objections to even so partial a
publication as I have shadowed forth which make it most desirable
that we should have an opportunity of giving the matter our fullest
consideration. Perhaps we might adjourn until to-morrow morning?

_The Judge._ Oh, certainly, certainly.

    [_Court consequently adjourns to meet the necessities of the

       *       *       *       *       *

DISTRICT.--"Make Ay while the sun shines."

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: THE OLD CRUSADERS!


    BULGARIA, 1876.    ARMENIA, 1895.]

       *       *       *       *       *


  What do I care if sunny Spring
    Come now at last with balmy weather?
  What do I care for anything?
    I hate existence altogether.
  It makes me almost mad, in truth,
  This awful aching in my tooth.

  What do I care for wealth or fame,
    Or woman's charms the most entrancing?
  Despised or loved, it's all the same.
    You would not catch me even glancing
  At any face you ever saw;
  I'm only thinking of my jaw.

  What do I care if Trunks are low,
    Argentines flat, Home Rails neglected?
  Though mines may come and mines may go,
    I'm indescribably dejected.
  They may be, I am, "dull" and "weak."
  Confound my throbbing, swollen cheek!

  What do I care which party's in,
    To take more pennies from my income,
  Or, if from tax on beer or gin,
    Or milk and water extra "tin" come?
  My thoughts are "in another place";
  This aching spreads throughout my face.

  What do I care for any play,
    For dance or dinner, song or supper?
  With pangs like these I can't be gay.
    They spread from lower jaw to upper,
  Across my face, as I have said,
  And now attack my hapless head.

  What do I even care if She
    May frown upon her wretched lover,
  And like another more than me?
    Such pangs I might in time recover.
  I do not care, I do not know;
  I'm aching now from top to toe.

       *       *       *       *       *



       *       *       *       *       *

Mr. RUDYARD KIPLING has written another Barrack-room Ballad (see _Pall
Mall Gazette_ of Thursday last). It is called _The Men that fought at
Minden_, and is perhaps the most coarse and unattractive specimen of
verse that this great young man has put forth yet--a jumble of words
without a trace of swing or music. All this Tommy Atkins business,
with its "Rookies" and its "Johnny Raws," and its affectation of
intimate knowledge of the common soldier's inmost feelings, is about
played out, and the interest in it is not likely to be revived by such
jargon as _The Men that fought at Minden_. Besides, didn't Lord GEORGE
SACKVILLE fight(?) at Minden?

       *       *       *       *       *

EXPLAINED AT LAST.--The (Zoo-) logical excuse given for the
boa-constrictor when he swallowed his companion, was that "he only
wanted a snack for luncheon." It had been hinted that he found "the
other one" such a "boa" at meal times that he was determined to put
him down. But this is not the fact.

       *       *       *       *       *


Hang it all! They have blocked the street and are laying it with
asphalte; just in May, as usual. From early morning the quiet of my
rooms is disturbed by the noise of the work, when I go out I scramble
over heaps of rubbish, past smoking cauldrons of pitch, and when I
come home at night my cab drops me nearly a quarter of a mile away.
Moreover, one neighbouring house is being painted, and the other is
being rebuilt. I fly from falling dust and brickbats, only to run
against ladders and paint-pots. It is awful. And now my Aunt JANE is
coming up from Bath, and has invited herself to tea at my chambers.
Her rheumatism prevents her from walking more than a yard or two, she
cannot bear any noise, and the smell of paint makes her ill. She
is very rich, and could leave all she has to the poor. Accurately
speaking, that class includes me, but in my aunt's opinion it does
not. She is very suspicious, and, if I made excuses and invited her
to tea anywhere else, she would feel convinced that I was hiding some
guilty secret in my dull, quiet, respectable rooms. She is very prim,
and the mere suggestion of such a thing would alienate her from me for
ever. Why on earth can't she stop in Bath? And I shall have to go with
her to May meetings! It is impossible; I must fly. But where? She
has a horror and suspicion of all foreign nations, except perhaps the
steady, industrious Swiss. Good idea--Switzerland. But what reason can
I give for rushing off just now? Someone must send me. I have it. She
knows I try to write a little, so I will say my editor requires me to
go at once to Geneva to write a series of articles in the Jardin Alpin
d'Acclimatation on Alpine botany. Botany, how respectable! Geneva,
how sedate! Makes one think at once of CALVIN and Geneva bands. These
sound rather frivolous, something like German bands, but they are not
really so, only, I believe, a sort of clerical cravat. Then I will
start off to Paris, the direct way to Geneva.

Perhaps I shall never reach Geneva. Paris will do well enough. No
streets there taken up in the Spring. No painting on the clean stone
houses. No rebuilding on the Boulevards. No aunt of mine anywhere
near. I shall escape all my troubles. I shall be able to smoke my
cigarette lazily in the pleasant courtyard of the Grand Hôtel, and try
to imagine that I see some of the people in _Trilby_--_Little Billee_,
or _Taffy_, or the _Laird_--amongst the animated, cosmopolitan crowd.
And the stately giant in the gilt chain will solemnly arrange the
newspapers in all languages, and will supply me with note-paper. I
must be careful not to write to my aunt a long description of the
Jardin Alpin d'Acclimatation de Geneve on paper stamped "Grand Hôtel,
Paris." And the attentive JOSEPH, with those long grey whiskers,
sacred to the elderly French waiter and the elderly French lawyer,
will exclaim, "_V'là, M'sieu!_" in all those varied tones which make
the two syllables mean "Yessir!" "Coming, Sir!" "Here is your coffee,
Sir!" "In a minute, Sir!" and so many things besides. And I shall be
able to watch, assembled from all parts of the world, some younger
and prettier faces than my Aunt JANE'S. That settles it. A regretful
letter to my aunt. And to-morrow _en route!_

       *       *       *       *       *

CHANGE OF SPELLING?--Our dramatic friend known to the public through
_Mr. Punch_ as ENRY HAUTHOR JONES appears to have recently altered the
spelling of his name. He has left the JONES and the HENRY alone, but
in the _Times_ of Friday he appears as "HENRY ARTH_E_R JONES," "U" out
of it; and what was "E" doing there?

       *       *       *       *       *

minister was presented by his Congregationalists with an address and a
cheque for a thousand guineas, Mr. GLADSTONE, ex-minister, being among
the subscribers. In future the _bénéficiaire_ will be remembered as
the "Reverend Thousand GUINNESS ROGERS."

       *       *       *       *       *

MUSIC NOTE (_after hearing Mr. J. M. Coward's performance on the
Orchestral Harmonium_).--It would be high praise to say of any
organist that "he attacks his instrument in a Cowardly manner."

       *       *       *       *       *

"VERY APPROPRIATE."--Last Wednesday the Right Hon. A. W. _PEEL_ became
a "_Skinner_."

       *       *       *       *       *


(_Prematurely Communicated by our Prophetic Reporter._)

Gentlemen of the Jury, for the last couple of years or so you have no
doubt read any number of denunciations of the conduct of the man whose
actions you are now about to investigate. You have heard him abused
right and left. You have seen pictures of him, in which he has been
held up to scorn and public ridicule. You have heard it announced in
all quarters that he is a scoundrel and a thief. And as this has been
the case, Gentlemen of the Jury, it is my duty to tell you that you
must put aside the recollection of these attacks. You must treat the
prisoner before you as if he were immaculate. In fact you must lay
aside all prejudice, and give the man a fair trial; and, Gentlemen, it
is my duty (sanctioned by precedent) to have the pleasure of informing
you that I am sure you will! Yes, Gentlemen of the Jury, having regard
to all the circumstances of the case, I repeat, I am sure you will!

       *       *       *       *       *

At the National Liberal Club, on Wednesday, Lord ROSEBERY told the
company they were not dancing on a volcano. That may be true, but
it is equally true that the Government, in proposing to remit the
sixpenny duty on whisky, are riding for a fall in (or, shall we say, a
drop of) the "crater."

       *       *       *       *       *



       *       *       *       *       *


    ["Her Majesty's Government are about to entrust to one of our
    first sculptors a great historical statue, which has too
    long been wanting to the series of those who have governed
    England."--_Lord Rosebery at the Royal Academy Banquet._]

  Our "Uncrowned King" at last to stand
    'Midst the legitimate Lord's Anointed?
  How will they shrink, that sacred band,
    Dismayed, disgusted, disappointed!
  The _parvenu_ Protector thrust
    Amidst the true Porphyrogeniti?
  How will it stir right royal dust!
    The mutton-eating king's amenity
  Were hardly proof against this slur.
    WILLIAM the thief, RUFUS the bully,
  The traitor JOHN, and JAMES the cur,--
    Their royal purple how 'twill sully
  To rub against the brewer's buff!
    HARRY, old Mother Church's glory
  Meet this Conventicler?--Enough!
    The Butcher dimmed not England's story
  But rather brightened her renown.
    In camp and court it must be said,
  And if he did not win a crown,
    At least he never _lost his head!_

       *       *       *       *       *

Among Mr. LE GALLIENNE'S new poems there is one entitled _Tree
Worship_. It is _not_ dedicated to the lessee of the Haymarket Theatre
by "an Admirer."

       *       *       *       *       *


  They met in a cake-shop hard by the Strand,
    He in black broadcloth, and she in silk.
  She had a glass of "fizz" in her hand,
    He had a bun and a cup of milk.
  She had a sunshade of burnished crimson,
    He had a brolly imperfectly furled,
  And a pair of _pince-nez_ with tortoiseshell rims on.
    He looked the Church, and she seemed the World.

  They sat on each side of a marble table,
    His legs were curled round the legs of his chair.
  Around them babbled a miniature Babel;
    The sunlight gleamed on her coppery hair.
  She held a crumpled Academy Guide,
    Scored with crosses in bold blacklead;
  A pile of leaflets lay at his side,
    And he grasped a Report, which he gravely read.

  His shaven lip was pendulous, long,
    Her mouth was a cherry-hued _moue mutine_,
  His complacent, uncomely, strong,
    Hers soft appetence sharpened with spleen.
  Her eyes scale-glitter, his oyster-dim,
    His huge mouth hardened, her small lips curled
  As he gazed at her and she glanced at him;
    He looked the Church, and she seemed the World.

  "A holy spouter from Exeter Hall!"
    (So she mused as she sipped her wine.)
  "A butterfly in the Belial thrall
    Of Vanity Fair, all tinkle and shine!"
  So thought he as he crumbled his bun
    With clumsy fingers in loose black cloth;
  And the impish spirit of genial fun
    Hovered about them and mocked them both.

  Mutual ignorance, mutual scorn,
    Revealed in glances aflame though fleeting;
  Such, in the glow of this glad May morn,
    The inhuman spirit of mortal meeting.
  The worm must disparage the butterfly,
    The butterfly must despise the worm;
  And Scorn, the purblind, will ne'er descry
    A common bond, or a middle term.

  Modish folly, factitious Art?
    True, grave homilist, sadly true!
  But _Boanerges_ truculent, tart,
    What of the part that is played by you?
  You denouncing the "Snare of Beauty,"
    She affecting to feel its spell,--
  Which falls shortest of human duty?
    Shallow censor, can _you_ quite tell?

  Meanwhile the lilac is blithely budding,
    And sweetly breatheth the nutty May,
  The golden sunshine the earth is flooding,
    And you--you echo the old, old bray
  Of _Boanerges_. A broader greeting
    Of brotherhood full, warm hearts, wide eyes
  Might lend a meaning to your "May Meeting"
    To gladden the gentle and win the wise.

       *       *       *       *       *

"WHAT'S IN A NAME? A ROSSA, &C."--Before being ejected from the House
of Commons on Wednesday last, O'DONOVAN ROSSA shouted out that "A
stain had been put upon his name." Where is the ingenious craftsman
who did it? He might try his hand next time at gilding refined gold.

       *       *       *       *       *

QUERY.--Can a champagne wine from the vintage of "Ay" be invariably
and fairly described as "Ay 1"?

       *       *       *       *       *


    ["Neckties made of aluminium have just been invented in
    Germany."--_Evening Paper._]

Visited my tailor's puddling works to-day. He has some really neat new
pig-iron fabrics for the season. I am thinking of trying his Bessemer
steel indestructible evening-dress suits.

Really this new plan of mineral clothing comes in very usefully when
one is attacked by roughs on a dark night. Floored an assailant most
satisfactorily with a touch of my lead handkerchief.

The only objection I can find to my aluminium summer suiting is its
tendency to get red hot if I stand in the sun for five minutes.

I think I can now safely defy my laundress to injure my patent safety
ironclad steel shirts.

I find, however, that there is no need of a laundress at all. When
one's linen is soiled, sand-paper and a mop will clean it in no time.

My frock-coat has got a nasty kink in it; must send it to be repaired
at the smelting furnace.

       *       *       *       *       *

ONCE CUT DON'T COME AGAIN!--It was said by _The Figaro_ last week that
Japan would demand "an extra payment of one hundred millions of
taels by China." But surely a hundred million Chinamen would evince
a pig-headed obstinacy in parting with, or being parted from, their
"tails" on any consideration.

       *       *       *       *       *

"A LIGHTSHIP SUNK."--Impossible! couldn't have been a lightship, it
must have been a very heavy ship.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: _Daughter_ (_enthusiastically_). "OH, MAMMA! I _MUST_

_Mamma_ (_severely_). "NO THANK YOU, MY DEAR; YOU ARE _QUITE_ 'FAST'

       *       *       *       *       *



_House of Commons, Monday, May 6._--Welsh Disestablishment Bill on.
So is The Man from Shropshire. STANLEY LEIGHTON, as GEORGE TREVELYAN
pointed out long ago, is irresistibly like the ruined Chancery
Suitor of _Bleak House_. Always dashing into debate as The Man from
Shropshire broke in on the business of the Court of Chancery. "Mr.
Chairman!" he shouts, and waves his arms, as The Man from Shropshire
cried aloud, "My lord! My lord!" and tried to seize the Lord
Chancellor by wig or neck. After first ebullition, our Man from
Shropshire quietens down. Argues with gravity of tone and manner that
seem to imply he has something to say. Turns out he hasn't; but, on
the Welsh Disestablishment Bill, that no matter.

[Illustration: The Joys of Office. "Speaker! Hats off, Strangers!"]

Curious how this Church Bill brings to the front men who, if heard at
all, certainly do not speak in chorus on any other question. After
The Man from Shropshire comes TOMLINSON, who, early in proceedings,
displays irresistible tendency to discuss points of order with
SPEAKER. New SPEAKER has, however, already got hand in, and, before
TOMLINSON, who remembers being on his feet addressing Chair, quite
knows where he is, he finds himself sitting down again, CRANBORNE also
on warpath, his very hair bristling with indignation at this fresh
attack on the Church. Glib GRIFFITH-BOSCAWEN has a field-night;
makes long speech on moving Instruction standing in his own name. His
obvious, unaffected enjoyment of his own oratory should be infectious;
but isn't.

[Illustration: The Cares of Office. Mr. Cawmel-Bannerman crosses the

Colonel LOCKWOOD, that pillar of the Church, was the first called on
in Committee to move amendment. Colonel not in his place. Report
has it the devout man is in library reading THOMAS À KEMPIS, or
DRELINCOURT on Death. Here is opportunity for GLIB-GRIFFITH to
make another speech. Dashes in; starting off with promise of good
half-hour; desire for LOCKWOOD'S appearance irresistible. As ADDISON
says, with hereditary disposition to drop into poetry, and the belief
that he is quoting TENNYSON,

  Better fifty words from LOCKWOOD
  Than a thousand from BOSCAWEN.

Scouts sent out in all directions. The Colonel discovered in sort of
oratory he has contrived in far recess of library. Brought back to
House; found BOSCAWEN bowling along. "This is my show," said the
Colonel as he passed BOSCAWEN on his way to his seat. More fierceness
in his eye than befit the man or the occasion. BOSCAWEN stared over
his head, and went on with his speech. Opportunity too precious to
be lost. If LOCKWOOD meant to move his amendment he should have been
there when called upon. He wasn't: BOSCAWEN found it, so to speak,
by roadside. Now it was his; would make the most of it; pegged along
whilst the Colonel muttered remarks as he glared upon him. Some who
sat by said it was a prayer. Others, catching a word here and there,
said it was a quotation from THOMAS À KEMPIS. Whatever it might have
been, Colonel seemed much moved. Hardly pacified when, at end of
twenty minutes, GLIB-GRIFFITH sat down, and LOCKWOOD, finding himself
in peculiar position of seconding his own amendment, delivered the
speech he had prepared for moving it.

_Business done._--Got into Committee on Welsh Disestablishment Bill.

_Tuesday._--Pretty to see PRINCE ARTHUR drop down on GEORGE RUSSELL
just now for speaking disrespectfully of SILOMIO. That eminent
patriot, having in his newly-assumed character of Patron Saint of
Japan, cross-examined EDWARD GREY upon latest Treaty negotiations,
accused ASQUITH of nothing less than stealing a county. "Filching"
was precise word, which has its equivalent in Slang Dictionary in
sneaking. Idea of HOME SECRETARY hovering over the Marches in dead
of night, and, when he thought no one was looking, picking up
Monmouthshire, and putting it in his coat-tail pocket, amused
scanty audience. But SILOMIO really wrath. "Always Anti-English this
Government," he exclaimed, with scornful sweep of red right hand along
line of smiling faces on Treasury Bench. "A stirring burst of British
patriotism," GEORGE RUSSELL characterised it. JOHN BULL _in excelsis_.
The more notable since, on reference to official record, he found the
Knight from Sheffield was born in the United States, and descended
from the Pilgrim Fathers.

"Which one?" inquired voice from back bench, an inquiry very properly
disregarded. (A new phrase this, SARK notes, for use by retired
tradesmen, setting up to spend rest of useful lives in retirement
at Clapham or Camberwell. To trace their family tree back to
transplantation at period of Conquest, played out. Instead of "Came
over with the Conqueror," newer, more picturesque, equally historical
to say, "Came over with the Pilgrim Fathers.")

PRINCE ARTHUR not in mood for speculation of this kind. Cut to the
heart by remarks he suspected of slighting intent towards his friend
and colleague. In SILOMIO PRINCE ARTHUR has long learned to recognise
all the graces and all the talents. Apart from personal consideration,
he feels how much the Party owe to him for having raised within its
ranks the standard of culture and conduct. To have him attacked, even
in fun, by an Under Secretary, was more than he could stand. So,
in gravest tone, with no flicker of a smile on his expressive
countenance, he declared that a more unfortunate speech he had
never heard. "If the hon. gentleman intends," he added, "to take a
considerable part in debate, I would earnestly recommend him either
to change the character of his humour, or entirely to repress the

Beautiful! In its way, all things considered, best thing PRINCE ARTHUR
has done this Session. House grinned; but two big hot tears coursed
down cheek of SILOMIO, making deep furrows in the war paint.

"That's tit for tat with GEORGIE RUSSELL," said HERBERT GARDNER to
SOLICITOR-GENERAL, with vague recollection of a historic phrase.

"Quite perfect," said LOCKWOOD. "But what a loss the stage has
sustained by PRINCE ARTHUR taking to politics? Tried both myself and
know something about it." _Business done._--An eight hours day with
Welsh Disestablishment Bill.

[Illustration: Piling Peeler upon Rossa!]

_Thursday._--TANNER'S curiosity inconveniently uncontrollable. At
end of sitting given up to Scotland no one thinking about
COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF or TANNER either. Successive divisions had carried
sitting far beyond midnight, that blessed hour at which, in ordinary
circumstances, debate stands adjourned. Quarter of an hour occupied in
dividing on question whether they should divide on amendment. Proposal
affirmed; another quarter of an hour spent in fresh division. Nothing
possible further to be done, Members streamed forth, scrambling for
cabs in Palace Yard. CONYBEARE in charge of a Bill dealing with false
alarms of fire, managed to get it through Committee unopposed. Members
little recked how near they were to real alarm of worse than fire.

Twenty minutes earlier, when last division taken, over 330 Members
filled House. Now the tide ebbed; only the thirty odd Members in their
places jealously watching SPEAKER running through Orders of the
Day. TANNER bobbing up and down on bench like parched pea. Heard
it somewhere whispered that Duke of CAMBRIDGE, worn out with long
campaign, about to unhelm, unbuckle his sword, hang up his dinted
armour. TANNER feels he can't go to bed leaving unsettled the problem
of truth or phantasy. Not a moment to be lost. SPEAKER risen to put
question "That this House do now adjourn." Then TANNER blurts out the
inquiry, "Is it true?" "Order! order!" says the SPEAKER. Well, if they
didn't like the question in the form he had first put it, he would try

"I would ask," he said, adopting conditional mood as least likely to
hurt anyone's feelings, "whether a member of the Royal Family who has
really" (most desirous of not putting it too strongly, but really you
know) "been drawing public money too long is going to retire?"

"Order! order!" roared the few Members present.

"I would ask that question," repeated TANNER, still in the conditional
mood, but nodding confidentially all round.

The Blameless BARTLEY happily at post of duty. Broke in with protest.
SPEAKER ruled question out of order. But the good TANNER came back
like a bad sixpence.

"Is his Royal Highness going to retire?" he insisted, getting redder
than ever in the face. "Order! order!" shouted Members in chorus. Thus
encouraged, TANNER sang out the solo again, "Is his Royal Highness
going to retire?"

That was his question. The SPEAKER, distinctly differing, affirmed
"The question is that the House do now adjourn;" which it did
straightway, leaving Dr. TANNER to go to a sleepless bed haunted by an
unanswered question.

"What I should like," said Lieut.-General Sir FREDERICK WELLINGTON
FITZ WYGRAM, who served in the Crimea with H.R.H., has been in command
of the Cavalry Brigade at Aldershot, and in other positions come in
personal contact with the COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF, "What I should like," he
repeated reflectively, stroking his chin, "would be the opportunity,
enjoyed from a safe distance, of hearing the Dook personally reply to
TANNER'S interrogation."

_Business done._--Wrangle all night round Scotch Committee.

_Friday._--SQUIRE sat through dull morning sitting listening with air
of pathetic resignation to Members talking round Budget. QUILTER led
off with prodigiously long paper on the Art of Brewing Beer. Seems
they fill up the cup with all kinds of mysterious ingredients.
BROOKFIELD, looking round and observing both JOSEPH and JESSE
absent, whispered in ear of sympathetic Chairman that Birmingham has
reputation in the Trade of making and drinking beer containing minimum
of malt, maximum of sugar, and warranted to do the greatest damage to
the system. SQUIRE, momentarily waking up from mournful mood, observed
that Birmingham is also headquarters of Liberal Unionism. Might
be nothing in coincidence, but there it was. RASCH posed as the
distressed agriculturist. JOKIM tried to walk on both sides of road at
same time, and Government got majority of 24. _Business done._--Budget
Resolutions agreed to.

       *       *       *       *       *


  YVETTE! your praise resounds on every hand.
  And those laugh loudest who least understand.

       *       *       *       *       *

Transcriber's Note:

Page 229: 'visistor' corrected to 'visitor'.

(_Knock._) Ah, here comes my visitor. (_Enter stranger._)

The illustration for 'The Old Crusaders' originally covered 2 pages,
pp. 234 and 235 (centrefold/centerfold), with a blank page on either

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