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Title: Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 107, December 29th 1894
Author: Various
Language: English
As this book started as an ASCII text book there are no pictures available.
Copyright Status: Not copyrighted in the United States. If you live elsewhere check the laws of your country before downloading this ebook. See comments about copyright issues at end of book.

*** Start of this Doctrine Publishing Corporation Digital Book "Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 107, December 29th 1894" ***

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Punch, or the London Charivari

Volume 107, December 29th 1894

_edited by Sir Francis Burnand_


(_Founded upon the Farce of Christmas Cards._)

Scene--_A London Drawing Room._ PATERFAMILIAS _discovered reading a
paper, and_ MATERFAMILIAS _superintending the despatch of a number of

_Mater._ (_in a tone of irritation_). I really think, JOHN, that,
considering you have nothing earthly to do this afternoon, you might
come and help me.

_Pater._ You have said that twice before, my dear. Don't you see I am
enjoying myself?

_Mater._ So like you! As if you couldn't give up that stupid paper--you
declare there's no news in it--and do me a favour!

_Pater._ (_putting down his paper_). Well, anything for a quiet life!
What is it?

_Mater._ I am sending a card to Mrs. BROWN.

_Pater._ (_taking up his paper again_). Send it.

_Mater._ My dear JOHN, _do_ attend. I want to know what I shall put
into the envelope.

_Pater._ (_giving up paper, and examining Christmas Cards with some
vague show of interest_). Oh, well--here. (_Casually picking up a
picture of a country churchyard by moonlight_). Won't this be the sort
of thing?

_Mater._ (_shocked_). How _can_ you, John! Don't you know that Mrs.
Brown lost her husband only a year ago?

_Pater._ Then why are you wishing her "A Merry Christmas"?

_Mater._ Well, you see she has married again, and so I thought of
sending her something with "A Happy New Year" in it.

_Pater._ (_taking up a card showing an owl in an ivy bush_). Why not

_Mater._ Well that would be better, but then she might think that the
owl was intended for a sneer at her second husband. And then I always
like to keep the happy new year cards till Christmas is over, as you
can send them afterwards to the people who have remembered you when you
have forgotten them.

_Pater._ But you wouldn't have "A Merry Christmas," and now you object
to "A Happy New Year." What _do_ you want?

_Mater._ Can't you get something impersonal?

_Pater._ (_taking up card_). Well, here's a yacht in full sail.

_Mater._ Oh, _how_ cruel! It will remind her of her cousin who was lost
at sea!

_Pater._ (_selecting another sketch_). Then why not this bouquet of

_Mater._ Not for worlds! One never knows what the flowers may mean, and
we might offend her.

_Pater._ (_trying again_). Well, here is a windmill.

_Mater._ My dear John, you are absolutely provoking. A windmill is
suggestive of frivolity, and I wouldn't let Mrs. Brown think that we
meant _that_ on any account.

_Pater._ (_making another selection_). Well, here's a parrot in a cage.

_Mater._ You surely are not serious? Fancy sending such a card! Why, as
everyone knows that dear Mrs. BROWN is rather talkative, all the world
would say it was an "insult."

_Pater._ (_losing patience_). Oh, hang Mrs. BROWN!

_Mater._ I am ashamed of you, JOHN! And I suppose you would hang the
cards, too! You would curse "Merry Christmas."

_Pater._ (_promptly_). That I would, and what is more, I would--well
never mind--the glad New Year!

    [_Scene closing in upon an anti-seasonable squabble._

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: _Disgusted Keeper_ (_who has just beaten up a brace or
so of Pheasants, which young Snookson has missed "clane and clever"--to
dog, which has been "going seek" and "going find" from force of

       *       *       *       *       *


  Before the fireside's ruddy glow
    I sit, and let my thoughts fly free;
  Lo, these my Christmas greetings go
    To three good friends beyond the sea.
  Vain is the winter tempest's wrack,
  It cannot keep my greetings back.

  Oh wind and rain, and rain and wind,
    How purposeless and blind ye are,
  Like fate, for fate was surely blind
    That bade my three friends range afar.
  Like mine, perchance, their fancy strays
  To other scenes and distant days.

  Dear FRANK, I think I see you now,
    My flaxen-haired American,
  Brave heart, grey eye, unclouded brow,
    Two stalwart yards of wilful man,
  How oft in laughter and in song
  With you I sped the hours along.

  Ah me, the days were all too short,
    Too swift the unreturning hours
  In that old town of Hall and court,
    Of ancient gateways flanked with towers,
  Where once we feared the near exam...
  And dared the dons, and stirred the Cam.

  You went, and now expound the law
    (As _Bumble_ said, the law's a hass)
  And argue, as I note with awe,
    For litigants in Boston, Mass.;
  And, though you wear no warlike suit,
  They call you "General" to boot.

  And, FRED, how fares it now with you
    In that drear country of the North?
  Too great your needs, your means too few,
    A whim of temper drove you forth.
  On far Vancouver's shore, alone
  You hear the sad Pacific moan.

  With us, God wot, you little throve;
    Your life all fire, and storm, and fret,
  Against relentless fate you strove,
    But strove in vain--and yet, and yet
  God shapes in storm and fire his plan,
  And moulds a world or makes a man.

  Good luck be yours on that bleak shore,
    Some fortunate, some golden prize;
  Then be it mine to see once more
    Those friendly, lustrous, Irish eyes.
  Return and face with us your fate,
  The world is small and England great.

  You shall return and fill your place,
    But never shall I clasp his hand,
  Whose bright and smiling boyish face
    Makes sunshine in the shadowland.
  Yet shall the night my heart beguile,
  And let me dream I see him smile.

  Your voice I may not hear again,
    Oh dear and unforgotten friend,
  Beloved, but ah! beloved in vain,
    Whom love could mourn, but not defend.
  Still take, though far and lost you dwell,
  My love, dear HUGH, and so farewell.

  And thus before the fireside's glow
    I sit and let my thoughts fly free;
  Lo, these my Christmas greetings go
    To three good friends beyond the sea;
  To FRANK, to FRED, and ah, to you,
  Beloved, irrevocable HUGH.

       *       *       *       *       *


  _To Japan._--A piece of china.
  _To China._--A japanned hot-water can.
  _To Russia._--A slice of turkey.
  _To Turkey._--A russia bag.
  _To the French Republic._--A napoleon or a louis.
  _To Hawaii._--A sovereign.
  _To the King of Spain._--Half a sovereign.
  _To Don Carlos._--A crown.
  _To King Milan._--Half a crown.
  _To the German Emperor._--A few notes, and a good mark (for attention
      to harmony).
  _To Mr. Labouchere._--An antique noble.

       *       *       *       *       *

"SOUND CRITICS."--Musical ones.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: A CHRISTMAS IDYLL.


       *       *       *       *       *


_To Resolve his Doubt._

  I have no passion to bestow,
    My heart no more can beat
  Like the caged bird that to and fro
    Flutters your hand to greet.

  In a sad peace no raptures stir
    My twilight years have set,
  Embalming but in bitter myrrh
    All I cannot forget.

  When hope is dead, and sweet desire
    And love's brief April rains,
  Only the spirit to inquire
    Unconquered still remains.

  'Tis that that bows my soul; although
    I'm prostrate at your feet,
  Only because I want to know--
    That's why I ask you, sweet!

       *       *       *       *       *

SUGGESTED TITLE.--GEORGE NEWNES brings out _Zigzags at the Zoo_, writ
by MORRISON and drawn most humorously by the Gentle SHEPHERD. A good
title would have been _Fore-Newnes at the Zoo_.

       *       *       *       *       *


(_A Pitiful Epistle from Pongo to Mr. Punch at Christmastide._)

  Every dog has his day--so they say,--
    And mine it seems comes round once a year.
  When all the painter fellows mix their blacks and browns and yellows,
    And paint me, in some attitude that's queer,
  And unnatural, and silly; spilling milk or supping skilly;
  With a bonnet or a bib on, or tied up in bows of ribbon!
  Oh, the Dogs' "Decline and Fall" might inspire a doggish Gibbon!
  And they make me most unhappy, and my temper sharp and snappy,
  Do these pictures poor and pappy. I'm a decent doggish chappie,
  But in gaudy Christmas Numbers, watching o'er the sloppy slumbers
  Of a baby pink and podgy; or squatting scared and stodgy,
  Like a noodle of a poodle--oh! its really wretched foodle!--
    At a beetle or a frog staring wildly, in a fog,
  Or lapping baby's custard, or refusing baby's mustard,
  Or dress'd up like a guy, or winking t'other eye,
  In a gown, trimmed with down, like a clown,
          Or coquetting with a cat,
          Or chasing that old rat
  Down that everlasting hole in the stable! On my soul,
  A dog as is a dog, and not a duffer,
  When the Yuletide pictures come is bound to suffer
  Endless agonies of shame at the loss of his good name
  As the sonsie friend of man, and a watchful guar-di-an,
          _Not_ an adjunct of the nursery!
          At this happy anniversary
                (_Mr. Punch_)
                I could cr-r-r-runch!
  The daubers who malign me, and such stupid _rôles_ assign me.
          _Why, it's worse than hydrophoby!!!_
          _Mr. Punch_, do turn on Toby,
  As our champion canine to request each painter chap
  To turn off the old stale tap of the porridge and the pap, and the
      baby in the cap, or the kid (who needs a slap) and the pug (not
      worth a rap) in an apoplectic nap, the toy-terrier on the snap, or
      a-sniffing at a trap, or essaying milk to lap, like a small
      Jap; and all the old clap-trap
  Which makes a decent doggy in sheer desperation say
  That he'd rather be a kitten with a ball and string to play,
  Or live on clockwork rats, or make breakfast on chopped hay,
  Or be smeared all o'er with mustard like a cold beef sandwich,--Aye!
  Or--_whisper!_--Bite a Baby!!--on the nose!! in nursery play!!!
  Better dare renewed distemper than another Christmas Day!!
  For unless I have your promise--and dear Toby's--I much fear
  I must spend a pappy Christmas and a yappy New Year!

       *       *       *       *       *


As the L. C. C. have taken in hand the morals of the music halls, and
shown an inclination to supersede the Lord Chamberlain, it may be as
well to publish a rough sketch of a specimen scene from the afterpart
of a pantomime for the guidance of theatrical managers desirous of
standing well with the successors to the members of the Metropolitan
Board of Works. The "opening" would, of course, be written by "a
serious bard with a mission." No doubt the story would be told in a
manner most productive to the manufacture of prigs. The transformation
over, Clown, Pantaloon, Harlequin and Columbine would be discovered in
a group.

_Clown_ (_in the conventional tone_). Here we are again!

_Bumble_ (_representing the L. C. C._). Scarcely. Allow me to point out
that in future you will be entirely different.

_Clown_ (_as before_). Come along, old'un; let's make a butter slide.

_Bumble._ You must permit me to interpose. The Council cannot recognise
any practical joke of the kind. If you wish to have the same sort of
fun, pull up the streets in the most frequented thoroughfares in the
metropolis--the Strand and Fleet Street for choice.

_Clown_ (_as before_). Oh, here's a baby! Let's smash it!

_Bumble._ Please accept my advice. The Council do not object to
the keeping down of babies in the abstract. But personal violence
is contrary to the law. If you really wish to decrease the surplus
population, why not work it to death at a board-school? It may be a
slower process than throwing it over a lamp-post, but the incident will
be truer to life, and therefore more convincing.

_Clown_ (_as before_). Oh! old 'un, here's a peeler coming!

_Bumble_. Pray be under no apprehension. Until the Police Force is
placed under the direct control of the Council, the members will do
their best to protect you. It stands to reason that a great community
like London should have its own guardians under its own direct control.

_Clown_ (_as before_). And now let's jump through this building.

_Bumble_. Again I must put my veto upon your proceedings. If you were
to jump through that wall no doubt a placard would appear bearing
the legend "Somersault Place." This might be apt, but no change in
the nomenclature of the streets can be permitted without the direct
sanction of Spring Gardens.

_Clown_ (_as before_). And now let's pelt this house, and all who's in

_Bumble._ Stop, stop! You are attacking our own sacred building. (_To_
Harlequin). Will you be so good as to change the _locale_. (Harlequin
_strikes building, which turns into the Mansion House_.) Now you may do
what you please. For the Corporation of the City of London is so effete
that we have no sympathy for it!

    [_Scene of bustle and confusion, and curtain._

       *       *       *       *       *

NEW MUSICAL WORK: _Leading Strings_.--If it isn't a title it ought
to be for the biographies of celebrated violinists from Paganini to

       *       *       *       *       *


  Pretty partner, how are you
    After such a set of lancers?
  No one knowing what to do;
    We alone of sixteen dancers,
      Knew a figure, one or two.
      Pretty partner, how are you?

  Seven men and seven girls,
    All in such a fog together;
  One pair strides, and one pair twirls,
    Neither of them knowing whether
      That is what they ought to do,
      Pretty partner, not like you.

  You, who dance so very well,
    Slight, and light, and quite delightful,
  Belle who bears away the bell;
    We were forced to stop, how frightful!
      Yet I found one thing to do,
      Pretty partner--look at you.

  In that lamentable block,
    Some poor lout was sure to trample
  On the lace that trims your frock,
    Though the space of floor seemed ample
      Even for his feet which flew,
      Pretty partner, after you.

  Oh, the links of that "grand chain"
    In such desperate confusion!
  Feet, not hands, I met with pain,
    Stamps on toes, kick, bruise, contusion!
      Yet, alive, I've struggled through,
      Pretty partner, here with you.

  Figures! one alone was good,
    That was yours, so slim and charming.
  In your company I would
    Welcome bruises more alarming.
      I would dance till all was blue,
      Pretty partner, if with you.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: THE ARAUCARIA.

(_Reversion to an early Ancestral Type._)


       *       *       *       *       *


_Plaudite! Bravo! Brave! Domini Quippus et Punnus_ are very much
alive! A fact that may be inferred from just one line (there are more
whence this came) in the Westminsterial play, when _Davus_ takes
_Mysis_ "the New Woman," for his wife, and exclaims:--

  "O Mysis, Mysis, tu mea Missis eris!"

Surely if the punhating Criticus Sagitarius (Mundi) were
present he must have staggered out weeping on hearing the
Latin-Anglo-modern-classical pun! O shade of 'Arry Stophanes! O Ghost
of Terence (the Corkasian)! are our youths at Westminster to start
thus on their career, with nothing better than a poor pun not worth a
punny in their pockets! Let Sagitarius watch this youthful punster's
line of life! He will live to be punished! or to be rewarded as he
deserves? After all, Great Pun is not dead; he may be dull, commonplace
sometimes, but as he was prehistoric, so is he immortal. There is a
great future before the author of the Westminster epilogue.

       *       *       *       *       *

Robert Louis Stevenson.

  BORN NOVEMBER 13, 1850.
  DIED DECEMBER 8, 1894.

  Brave bringer-back of old Romance
    From shores so few may see,
  Who oft hath made our pulses dance
    With thy word-wizardry.
  We wished, who loved thee long and well,
  Thy life as endless as the spell
   Which lured us lingeringly
  To loiter, like a moon-witched stream,
  Through thine enchanted world of dream.

  We mused, with much-expectant smile,
    On that strange life afar,
  Flower-girt, in yon Pacific isle,
    Whereto an alien star
  Had drawn thee from thy northern home,
  Scourged by a greyer, chillier foam,
    Yet dear as the white bar
  Whose snowy break home-haven marks
  To battered shore-returning barks.

  And now across the sundering seas,
    Delayed, unwelcome, dread,
  Comes news that breaks our dreamful ease.
    The Great Romancer dead?
  It comes like an unnatural blight.
  That sunny vision quenched in night,
    That subtle spirit fled?
  One-half our best soul-life seems gone
  Out like a spark with STEVENSON.

  Enough for fame that hand had wrought,
    But not enough for those
  Who dreamed his dream, who thought his thought,
    And grieve that so should close
  Fresh-opened doors to Faëryland
  Before the poet-Prospero's wand
    Had wrought the spells he chose.
  Without _him_ amaranth-blooms to cull
  The world looks Stygian now, and dull.

  Teller of Tales, those southern folk
    Their _Tusitala_ hailed.
  Samoan hearts may mourn the stroke.
    We, who must leave unscaled,
  Save in fond fancy, that high peak
  Where he is tombed, who, though flesh-weak
    In spirit never failed
  More than his stalwart fathers,--we
  Send half our hearts across the sea.

  The lighthouse-builder raised no light
    That shall outshine the flame
  Of genius in its mellowest might
    That beacons him to fame.
  And Pala's peak shall do yet more
  Than the great light at Skerryvore
    To magnify his name,
  Who mourned, when stricken flesh would tire,
  That he was weaker than his sire.

  Teller of Tales! Of tales so told
    That all the world must list.
  Story sheer witchery, style pure gold,
    Yet with that tricksy twist
  Of Puck-like mockery which betrays
  The wanderer in this world's mad maze,
    Not blindly optimist,
  Who wooes Romance, yet sadly knows
  That Life's sole growth is _not_ the Rose.

  Dreamer of dreams! Such dreams as draw
    Glad through the Ivory Gate,
  In rapt and visionary awe,
    The soul alert, elate;
  Eblis obscure, Elysium dim,
  And a strange Limbo of wild whim,
    Upon us seem to wait,
  In solemn pomp, when willing thrall
  To him who held the keys of all.

  Thinker of thoughts, fresh, poignant, fine,
    Wherein no wit may trace
  That burthen of the Philistine,
    Chill, barren Commonplace.
  Who hath not felt the subtle stroke
  Which can in one choice phrase invoke
    The soul of charm and grace,
  Haunting the ear like an old rhyme,
  A cherished memory for all time?

  No more, no more! We shall not see
    Again the glorious show;
  No more will wake the wizardry,
    Nor the charmed music flow.
  Samoa's silence holds it hushed,
  The voice whereat our cheeks have flushed
    A hundred times; and lo!
  For happy hours, for haunted days,
  We can but pay with sad, proud praise!

       *       *       *       *       *

CRACKERS.--TOM SMITH, the up-to-date magician, sends forth from his
treasure-cave "bright things which gleam," but not "unrecked of"--at
least they won't remain so long, especially if any quiet demon of a
schoolboy with martial aspirations hears a report of "The Gatling Gun
Cracker." The repeating process will be an uncertain pleasure--to
others. Then "Snap Shots," taken unawares by a naughty little Cupid--we
can imagine the "Surprises!" Knick-knacks are boomed in "Ye Olde
Curiosity Shop"--but soft! I will not reveal any further the secrets of
the "King of Crackers." Get them--they are an "Open Sesame" to a gaiety
of delights.

       *       *       *       *       *


_Cyclist_ (_to Fox-hunter, thrown out_). "_Oi say, Squoire, 'ave you
seen the 'Ounds?_"]

       *       *       *       *       *


A Baronitess junior sends word from the children's quarters that _Your
Fortune and Character_ is an amusing game, told by WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE,
but published by JOHN JAQUES & CO.--evidently not a descendant of the
"melancholy JAQUES," for he would have "rail'd on Lady Fortune in good
terms" had the game been at his expense.

Massa BLACKIE & SON send in a story by G. A. HENTY, always so
Hentytaining, entitled _When London Burned_. We all ken that when Rome
burned NERO fiddled, but this hero--not an 'ero--had every opportunity
of extinguishing--my Baronite means "distinguishing himself;" and our
cavalier availed himself, after many other wondrous episodes, to rush
with warm enthusiasm to throw cold water on this enlightenment of
London. Needless to remark, he came scatheless through the fire!

_From Snowdon to the Sea_, by MARIE TREVELYAN, shows us Wales in the
days of _Merlin_ and mythical superstitions, likewise of queer doings
on the part of bold, bad buccaneers, in whom we seem to trace something
of the origin of the modern Welsher.

A perfect black and white school romance is continued in _My Lost
Evidently this youthful writer had not read the wise counsels conveyed
in a manual _On the Art of Writing Fiction_ (brought out by same
publishers), or so much ink would not have been wasted. "After perusing
this cheery little book, the much encouraged aspirant," quoth our
Baronitess with a sigh, "for literary fame, will promptly lay down the
pen and write no more." Good news for the editors.

MISS BRADDON, in her delightful story _Christmas Hirelings_ (SIMPKINS,
MARSHALL & CO.), hits upon a novel suggestion for those folks who
don't know how to keep the festive season as it should be kept. Away
flies boredom! How? I will not reveal the secret, but if any nicely
suppressed little children possess an average Scrooge-like relative,
take my advice, and present him with this book. The result will be
more than even a child's dream can anticipate. Rather powder in
jam to boys will be _The Battle of Frogs and Mice_, by JANE BARLOW
(METHUEN), who is evidently a distant connection of the immortal _Mr.
Barlow_, with so much kind thought for youthful learning. It may be
Greek to many who have but a dim, far-off knowledge of the first great
burlesque writer: but this his book will bring it all Homer again to
us. Quite a relief to turn to our dear _Nonsense Songs and Stories_, by
EDWARD LEAR (FREDERICK WARNE & CO.) Vague yellow undulating pessimism
notwithstanding, how pleasant is real good nonsense! And even the
fairy story cannot be crushed by our juggernaut modern science, than
which the imaginative impossible, as in _Thought Fairies_, by HELEN
WATERS, and in the _Seven Imps_, by KATHLEEN WALLIS, is so much more
attractive to youthful brains. Both books issued by DIGBY, LONG, & CO.,
and wise of them to do so. MACMILLANS issue a splendid new edition of
the wonderful _Gulliver's Travels_, with over a hundred illustrations
by CHARLES E. BROCK, which ought to make the book go off like BROCK'S
fireworks. Its very warm cover suggests a seasonable book, _A Righte
Merrie Christmasse_, by JOHN ASHTON (_Leadenhall Press_), who, fancying
that some of its customs and privileges might be forgotten, collects
all that has been done or could be done at this annual event. Some
of ye anciente goinges on make one wonder whether feasts were better
kept when they spelt with such unreasonable euphony. It must have been
"merrie in halle" when the wassail song was ordinarily sung as depicted
by A. C. BEHREND in his exquisite copper etching.

_London Society_ is peculiarly bright and cheerful this Yuletide, and
keeps up its excellent reputation. A good medley is _London Society_.
And here is a very bright little _Woman_ this Christmastide. Quite a
festive party with her capital stories and supplement of "Types of the
World's Women." Just "Woman, lovely woman" in all styles and shades.
Without being more vain than any other average islander, one feels
grateful for belonging to the British group--no offence to the other
ladies, to whom we take off our hat, and, whilst including the rest,
salute advancing _Woman_. "And it is this New _Woman_, not _the_ New
Woman of the period, whom," quoth the Baron, "I salute with pleasure,"
and to whom he wishes a happy Christmas and a prosperous New Year, and
signs himself


       *       *       *       *       *


(_A Physician's Protest._)

MR. PUNCH,--As a specialist of some standing and experience, I wish,
Sir, to call attention, through the medium of your valuable paper, to
the injurious effects of a certain occupation upon the minds of the
individuals engaged therein, and their protection.

The occupation to which I refer is that of devising and arranging
what I understand are technically known as "headlines" for the
contents-bills of the more inexpensive London evening papers--an
occupation which I have no hesitation in characterising, on evidence
unconsciously supplied by the sufferers themselves, as highly dangerous

I am not sufficiently versed, Sir, to the _minutiæ_ of newspaper
routine, to know what precise class of persons are entrusted with this
particular responsibility, though I have a strong suspicion that it may
be one of the many forms of degrading drudgery which the selfishness of
man has imposed upon the weaker sex. If so, of course it only increases
the necessity for interference.

And, whoever and whatever the persons performing such duties may be, it
is painfully obvious that they are labouring under conditions of mental
excitement, the strain of which no nervous system can support for any
length of time without inevitable and complete collapse.

Should there be any who consider this an overstatement on my part, I
merely ask them to give a glance at some of these same content-sheets
which are nightly displayed in our chief thoroughfares. Let them mark
the monstrous size of the lettering, the peculiar extravagance of the
epithets selected, the morbid insistence upon unpleasant details, and
then doubt, if they can, that the unhappy persons employed in such
an industry are affected thereby with some obscure form of hysteria.
Otherwise, let me ask you, Sir, is it likely, is it credible, that
seasoned journalists, tough men of the world, in touch with life
at innumerable points, could, in a normal state of health, be so
constantly "Startled," "Amazed," "Astounded," "Shocked," "Appalled,"
and "Revolted," as they admit themselves to be, almost every evening,
by reports and rumours which a little reflection would convince them
were utterly unfounded, or by events too ordinary and commonplace, one
might have supposed, to upset the mental equilibrium of a neurotic

Occasionally, too, there are symptoms of an excessive reverence for
rank, which, when found in the more democratic organs (where, indeed,
they are chiefly observable), denote a somewhat distempered state of
intellect, the delusion apparently being that the mere possession of
any sort of title renders its owner immaculate. Thus, they announce
with awestricken solemnity "A Peer's Peccadilloes," or "A Baronet Bilks
his Baker," giving these events a poster all to themselves, as others
would an earthquake, or some portent of direst significance.

Now this loss of the sense of proportion in human affairs, Sir, is a
very bad sign, and a well-nigh infallible indicator of nerve-strain and
general overpressure.

But I find a yet more unmistakable evidence in support of my contention
in the extraordinary emotional sensibility revealed by these headlines
whenever some unfortunate person has been sentenced to death for
the most commonplace murder. There is clearly a profound conviction
that the jury who heard the evidence, the judge who pronounced their
verdict of guilty, the only possible conclusion they could reasonable
come to, and the HOME SECRETARY who found himself unable to recommend
a reprieve, were, one and all, engaged in a cold-blooded conspiracy
against a perfectly innocent man. The convict has said to himself, and
that seems to be considered sufficient. And so, night after night, the
authors of these headlines harrow themselves by announcing such items
as "Blank protests his innocence to his Solicitor." "A petition in
Preparation." "Painful Interview." "Blank Hopeful." "Blank Depressed."
"Distressing Scene on the Scaffold." "Blank's Last Words."

Consider the strain of all these alterations of hope and despair,
repeated time after time, and almost invariably without even the
consolation of deferring the fate of their _protégé_ by a single hour!
Is it not too much for the strongest constitution to endure? a service
which the society has no right to demand from any of its members?

Yes, Sir, whether these devoted servants of the public know it or not,
they are running a most frightful risk; the word which hangs above
their heads may fall at any moment.

Suppose, for example--and it is surely not wholly an imaginary danger
I foresee--suppose that some day some event should happen somewhere
of real and serious importance. Have they left themselves any epithet
in reserve capable of expressing their sensations at all adequately?
They have not; they have squandered participles and adjectives in such
reckless profusion that they will discover they are reduced to the
condition of inarticulate bankrupts; and, speaking as a medical man,
acute cerebral congestion would be the very least result that I should

Or the determining shock might come from more trivial causes. For
instance, we might lose a distinguished statesman, or an ironclad,
at the very moment when a football match was decided, or when the
professional tipster attached to their particular journal published his
"finals." Think of the mental conflict before determining the relative
importance of these events, and awarding one or the other its proper
prominence on the posters; and then ask yourself, Sir, whether it is an
ordeal that any human being of an impressionable, excitable temperament
should be required to undergo.

What precise remedy should be adopted I do not profess to point out.
Perhaps some one of the numerous leagues established to protect adult
citizens against themselves might take the matter up, and insist upon
these contents-bills being set up for the future in smaller type and
with epithets of a more temperate order. Perhaps Parliament or the
London County Council might be asked to interfere. All that is not
within my province, Sir, but this I do say: unless some measures are
taken _soon_, the heavy responsibility will be upon us of having
permitted a small but deserving class of our fellow-creatures to
hurry themselves into premature mental decay by the pernicious and
unwholesome nature of their employment.

  I am, Sir,
  Your obedient servant,

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: VERY HARD LINES.

_Young Farmer_ (_pulling up at urgent appeal of Pedestrian_). "HILLO!


_Young Farmer_ (_amused_). "WELL, THAT SEEMS FAIR ENOUGH, ANYWAY."


       *       *       *       *       *

The Rev. Dr. GEE, Vicar of Windsor, is now installed Canon of St.
George's Chapel. _Prosit!_ Our best wish for him is that, when he is
going to give an exceedingly good sermon, may this particular Gee not
discover that he is a little hoarse.

       *       *       *       *       *


_He_ (_to elderly Young Lady, after a long Waltz_). "YOU MUST HAVE BEEN

       *       *       *       *       *


(_A New Seasonable Song to an old Seasonable Tune._)

  The mistletoe hung on the brave old oak,
  The sickle went clinketing stroke upon stroke;
  The lads and the lasses were blithe and gay,
  And gambolled in Old Father Christmas's way.
  Old Christmas held high with a joyous pride
  The berried branch dear unto damsel and bride;
  For its silvery berries they seemed to be
  The stars of that goodly companie.
        Oh! the Mistletoe Bough!
          Oh! the Mistletoe Bough!!

  "Who wearies of kissing?" the Old Man cried.
  "Let her be a New Woman, but never a bride!
  Ha! ha! The old custom's approval I trace
  In red lip and blue eye upon every face.
  It was ever so, since time began.
  'Tis the way of the maid, 'tis the way of the man.
  'Tis also 'the way of a man with a maid,'
  For Cupid's barter's the oldest trade."
        Oh! the Mistletoe Bough!
          Oh! the Mistletoe Bough!

  "They are seeking to-day every new fangled way;
  Some tell us that wooing has had its day.
  In the highest, the lowest, the loneliest lot,
  The gleam of Love's berry makes one bright spot.
  And years may fly, as they will fly, fast,
  But one good old custom at least shall last;
  And when Christmas appears still the maids will cry:--
  'See! the Old Man bears the Love-berry on high!'"
        Oh! the Mistletoe Bough!
          Oh! the Mistletoe Bough!!

  "Gather!" he cried, and he waved his sickle.
  "Oh! fortune changes, and fashion's fickle;
  And youth grows mannish, and manhood old,
  And red lips wither, warm hearts grow cold:
  But whenever I come, midst the Yuletide snows,
  'Tis not Spring's lily, or Summer's rose
  Young men and maidens demand, I trow.
  But old Winter's white-berried Kissing-bough."
        Oh! the Mistletoe Bough!
          Oh! the Mistletoe Bough!!

  "For lilies wither, and roses pale,
  But the Kissing-bough keeps up the old, old tale.
  And dull were the world should the old tale cease!
  Be it kiss of passion, or kiss of peace,
  The meaning when lip unto lip is laid
  Is goodwill on earth to man, and maid.
  That's Yule's best lesson, good friends I vow,
  So reck ye the rede of the Mistletoe Bough!"
        Oh! the Mistletoe Bough!
          Oh! the Mistletoe Bough!!

  So they gather around him with laugh and joke,
  'Neath the spreading boughs of that brave old oak,
  Which hath shelter for all, from the English rose
  To the whitest snow-bell from Canada's snows,
  Or hot India's lotus-bud dainty and sweet.
  But the cry of them all, as in mirth they meet
  Old Father Christmas, as ever, so now,
  Is "Hands all round 'neath the Mistletoe Bough!"
        Oh! the Mistletoe Bough!!
          Our brave, bonny Mistletoe Bough!!!

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: "OH, THE MISTLETOE BOUGH!"


       *       *       *       *       *


Strolling through Pimlico the other day Mrs. R. was attracted by
evidence of a sale by auction going forward in one of the residences in
that desirable quarter. Having half an hour to spare she thought she
would look in. "I was quite surprised," she writes to her son, "when I
entered the room to see a gentleman standing in a pulpit which I knew
was Mr. PIPCHOSE, leastway, his whiskers were not so mutton-choppy;
but I could not mistake him, though meeting him only once at tea at
Mrs. BROWN'S where he was very pressing with the muffins. He looked
at me in just the same meaning way as when he said, 'Mrs. RAM. won't
you take another piece of sugar, though as I know it's carrying coals
to Newcastle?' I'm not above recognising my friends, wherever I meet
them, and gave him a friendly nod, and before I knew where I was, I
found I had bought for £3 9_s._ 6_d._ a wool mattress; a pair of tongs
(rather bent); a barometer (with the quicksilver missing); a small iron
bedstead; a set of tea-things (mostly cracked); an armchair, and a sofa
warranted hair-stuffed, but certainly having only three legs. It wasn't
Mr. PIPCHOSE at all, as I might have known if I had taken another look
at his whiskers, but only a forward auctioneer."

       *       *       *       *       *

"The Chinese Government," observed the _City Times_ last week, "is
seeking new channels for money." Decidedly China is in straits, and
will soon be apparently quite at sea.

       *       *       *       *       *


(_A Repentance in Triolets._)

  I swore to you, dear, there was mistletoe there,
    Though I knew all the time there was none.
  As I stole a sweet kiss from you out on the stair
    I swore to you, dear, there was mistletoe there.
  I have plenty of sins on my soul, dear, to bear,
    But at least I've confessed now to one.
  I swore to you, dear, there was mistletoe there
    Though I knew all the time there was none.

  I am sorry. I never will do it again,
    And please am I fully forgiven?
  In the future from falsehood I mean to refrain.
    I am sorry. I never will do it again,
  But look at yourself in your glass to explain
    Why to mistletoe tale I was driven.
  I am sorry. I never will do it again,
    And please am I fully forgiven?

  There's an answer you'll send if you're thoroughly kind,
    That will make me feel free from all blame.
  I hope you'll be glad, dear MELENDA, to find
    There's an answer you'll send if you're thoroughly kind.
  It's this, "Though the mistletoe was but a blind,
    Still with none I'd have done just the same."
  _There_'s the answer you'll send if you're thoroughly kind
    That will make me feel free from all blame.


       *       *       *       *       *

THE BARON'S P.S.--_The Border Waverley_, brought out by
NIMMO, and edited by ANDREW LANG, is now concluded, and a
fine set of volumes it makes. No better collection of books as a
Christmas present for anyone with a regard to a future of literary

  Nos omnesne laudamus Nimmo?
  Et respondit Echo: "Immo."

"Ha! ha! I don't go to a Westminster Play for nothing quoth the Baron;"
though he added _sotto voce_, "Yes I do though, as I'm a guest."

       *       *       *       *       *



Genoa in November. It is summer time. Put on thin suit, drink my _café
au lait_ by open window, and stroll out into beautiful Genoa, basking
in the sunshine. _Déjeuner_ in the garden of a restaurant, among the
old palaces. Sit in the shade, without my hat. Think of all the poor
people in London. Wonder if anyone is having a frugal lunch at the
funny little open-air restaurant in Hyde Park. Lemonade and a bath bun
in a fog. Should imagine not.

Charming place, Genoa. Hardly any Germans. Can at last hear people
talking Italian. In Venice there are so many Germans that one might as
well be in Germany. Sitting out on the Piazza, one hears incessantly
their monotonous, guttural chatter, always in the same tone of voice,
without inflections, without emotion, and, worst of all, without end.
Watched at the hotel _table d'hôte_ a German lady sitting between two
German gentlemen. One man talked loudly without ceasing, mouth full
or mouth empty, from soup to dessert. The other man, rather older
and feebler, also talked without ceasing, but he could not equal the
other's noise; he only added to it. As for the lady, her lips moved all
the time; one could imagine the _ja wohl_, the _ach, so?_ the _ja, ja,
ja_, but one could not hear a word. At Florence, at Milan, on the Lakes
it is the same. If by chance one hears a Frenchman speak, his charming
language sounds more vivacious and melodious than ever before. So it
is good to be in Genoa, where even the best hotel is kept by Italians.
Apparently every other good hotel in Italy is kept by HERR SCHMIDT,
or HERR WEBER, or HERR SOMETHINGOROTHER, and all the servants are
German also. There is one hotel in Genoa kept by a German. It faces the
harbour. All night long there are whistles, screams, bangs, rumblings,
bumps, roars, and other sounds from trains, ships, and tramways. All
day long there is the same noise, only more of it. But the Germans
do not mind; they talk just the same, and they make each other hear
through it all.

Charming place, Genoa, with a town hall that is the gayest imaginable.
Marble staircases, vestibules adorned with palms, beautiful little
gardens, at all sorts of levels, outside the windows of the various
offices. Everywhere flowers. If the town rates in Genoa are paid at
the Town Hall, the paying of them must be almost pleasant. One would
go with that horrible demand note, if that is used also in Italy, and
fancy that one was arriving at a ball. The palm-decorated entrance
looks just like it. It only needs a lady rate collector, such as one
hears of in England, and one surely, in whatever manner the Italians
may say it, would beg the charming signora to give one the honour and
pleasure of a dance, and scribble her name on the programme--I mean the
demand note. And no doubt, the Italian officials being leisurely and
the space being ample, one could find time for a waltz in the intervals
of rate paying, or at least sit it out in one of the delightful little
gardens of this ideal Palazzo Municipale.

And so farewell to sunny Genoa, and off to Turin. German hotel again,
German proprietor, German servants. Solitary German visitor drinking
his morning coffee. The hotels of Turin are not crowded; he and I are
alone. What will the poor man do? He must talk his awful language
to someone. He shan't talk it to me, for I will pretend I do not
understand even one word. The waiter has left the room. Must the poor
man be silent? Thunderweather, ah no! Happilywise he is saved. The
considerate proprietor, thoughtful of his countryman's needs, enters;
he stands by the visitor's table, and the talk begins. When it ends I
cannot say, for I leave them, well started and in good voice, and hear,
as I think, their sweetly melodious phrases for the last time in Italy.
The train carries me away. There is not much more of Italy now, for
here is the Mont Cenis tunnel. Farewell, beautiful country, beautiful
pictures, beautiful language! There is someone leaning out of the next
carriage window. No doubt he is also saddened; he is speaking to others
inside, his voice is cheerful, he is evidently trying not to give way
to despair. Now I hear what he says, "_Da werde ich ein Glas Bier
trinken, ja, ja, ja!_"


       *       *       *       *       *

WANTED! a Perfect Cure for the incompatibility of Judges' sentences.

       *       *       *       *       *



       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: INDEX]

  Ad Jovem Pluvium, 263
  Afterpart à la L. C. C. (An), 302
  "After the Health Congress is over," 71
  Airs Resumptive, 45, 66, 83, 165, 205
  All my Eye! 121
  "All's Well!" 258
  "All up with the Empire," 183
  Alpine Railway (An), 95
  Amare, O! 263
  Anglo-Russian Echo (An), 95
  Another Man's Ears, 165
  Apple of Discord (The), 39
  Art of Naval Platitude (The), 216
  As we like it, 25
  At Last! 18
  At the Westminster Play, 303
  "Automatic" Conscience (The), 147
  "Auxiliary Assistance" in the Provinces, 105
  Awful Outlook (An), 177
  "Awkward Customer" (An), 210

  Ballade of Imitations, 11
  Ballade of Three Volumes (A), 39
  Ballade to Order, 298
  "B. and S." at the Savoy (A), 292
  Bank Holiday Dream-Book (The), 57
  Battle of the Budget (The), 3
  Bayard and Bobby, 201
  Beauties of Bologna, 215
  Betting Man on Cricket (A), 65
  Blue Gardenia (The), 185
  Bowl me no more! 155
  British Lions, 185
  Broken China, 192
  Bygones, 85

  Cabby's Answers, 5
  Cant _v._ Cant, 207
  Certain Cure (A), 145
  "Challenge" (The), 219
  Chief Mourner (The), 222
  Chronicles of a Rural Parish (The), 217, 237, 250, 263, 265, 288, 299
  Clerical Question for Exeter (A), 183
  Clio at Salcombe, 215
  "Clubs! Clubs!" 77
  Coincidence's Long Arm, 167
  Complaint of the Modern Lover, 167
  Compliments of the Season, 301
  Copperation at Winser (The), 46
  "Copy," 297
  Corean Cock-fight (The), 54
  Counting Noses, 257
  Counting the Catch, 90
  Crossed! 251
  Cryptogrammatist Wanted, 72
  Curios for the Cricketing Exhibition, 298
  Curious Accident to Mrs. R., 336
  Curse (The), 118

  Dangerous Doctrine, 120
  Day of Small Things (The), 213, 255
  Day's Ride, a Law's Romance (A), 155
  Decadent Guys (The), 225
  Demi-French Octave (A), 47
  Diary of a Duck, 274
  Dilemma of the Headless Spectre, 213
  Ditto to Mr. Courtney, 83
  Diurnal Feminine (The), 13

  Dog on his Day (A), 302
  Dog's Meet, 118
  Don't "Come unto these Yellow Sands"! 114
  Doom of the Minor Poets (The), 251

  Eastward Ho! 63
  Ejaculations, 141
  Embarras de Richesses, 87
  End of the Opera Season (The), 57
  Engagement (An), 264
  English as she is Crammed, 292
  Essence of Parliament, 11, 23, 35, 48, 59, 71, 84, 95, 108
  "Evicted Tenants," 42
  Extract (An), 281

  Fancy Portrait, 15
  Farewell to McGladstone, 46
  Fashion and Felony, 232
  Femina Dux Facti, 221
  "Finest English," 113
  Finishing Touches, 221
  First Impressions, 192, 204, 238, 252, 264, 273, 287, 289, 309
  Fizz and Fuss, 298
  Fly Route to Castles in the Air, 83
  Following Footsteps, 125
  Fool's Vade Mecum (The), 273
  For Arms or Alms? 45
  "For Example!" 162
  "Fourth R" (The), 243
  Fragment of a Police "Report d'Arthur," 177
  Friend in Need (A), 30
  From the Birmingham Festival, 186
  Future Fame, 203

  Gaiety "Sans-Gêne," 9
  Gay Widow Courted (A), 221
  General Literary Review Company (Limited), 168
  Generosity under Difficulties, 291
  Gilbert and Carr-icature, 240
  Gismonda, 233
  Good News, 121
  "Good Time coming" (A), 27
  Good Wishes, 36
  Gossip without Words, 189
  "Grand National" Trust (The), 47
  Guesses at Goodwood, 37

  Hanwellia's Answer, 179
  Hardy Annual at Henley, 15
  Hawarden Pastoral (A), 96
  Haymarket Heroine (The), 241
  Helmholtz, 141
  Henley Notes, 22
  Herrick on Rational Dress, 147
  Hint for the Alpine Season, 74
  Hopeless Case (A), 135
  Hopeless Quest (A), 206
  House-Agent's Dream (The), 270
  How it will be done hereafter, 89

  Ichabod, 253
  If not, why not? 169
  "I'm getting a Big Girl now!" 171
  Improved and Improving Dialogues, 269
  Inconvenienced Traveller's Phrase-Book, 82, 125
  Infant Phenomenon (The), 291
  In Memoriam, 102; Comte de Paris, 126
  In Nuce, 159
  In Paris out of the Season, 133
  In Praise of Boys, 107
  Ins and Outs, 213
  Inter-University Football, 285
  In the Museum, 141
  In Three Volumes, 101
  Invasion of Woman (The), 145
  Is the Bar a Profitable Profession? 109

  Jap the Giant-Killer, 150
  John Bull à la Russe, 264
  John Walter, 232
  "Judgment of 'Parish'" (The), 267
  "Justice as she is Spoken in France," 75

  Ladas! 141
  La Femme de Claude, 42
  Latest Great Yacht-Race, 29
  Latest Parliamentary Betting, 25
  Latest War Intelligence, 276
  Law of the (Social) Jungle (The), 111
  Lay of the Explorer (The), 33
  Lay of the Vigilant (The), 204
  Lessons in Laughter, 174
  Letters from a Débutante, 168, 180, 183
  Letters to a Débutante, 229
  Lex Talionis, 141
  Light in Darkness, 162
  Lines by a Lazy Body, 120
  Lines in Pleasant Places, 21, 49, 74, 131, 153
  Lines to a Lady, 253
  Links (The), 213
  Literary Intelligence, 121
  Little Ah Sid, 183
  Little Flirtation (A), 147
  Little Holiday (A), 69
  "Little too Previous!" (A), 102
  "Living Pictures," 197
  Local Colour, 210
  London Bicyclists, 49
  Lord Ormont's Mate and Matey's Aminta, 37, 57, 61
  Lord Rosebery in the North, 159
  Lost in London, 285
  "Lost Rings," 149
  Love's Labour Not Lost, 279
  Lowered! 71
  Lower Education of Women (The), 11
  Lunnon Twang (The), 159
  "Lying Low," 294
  Lyre and Lancet, 4, 16, 28, 40, 52, 64, 76, 88, 100, 112, 124, 136,
      148, 160, 172, 184, 196, 208, 220, 239, 244, 256, 268, 280

  Making of a Man (The), 293
  Making the Running with the Derby Winner, 169
  "Man in Armour" to the Multitude, 228
  March of Civilisation (The), 61
  Mary Jones, 285
  "Matrimonial Obedience," 179
  Matron's Hiss (The), 178
  Mayen-aisy-now! 233
  Mayennaise _v._ Mayonnaise, 203, 209
  Message from Mars (The), 81
  Midsummer Day-Dream (A), 30
  Minx (The), 33
  Moan from Mitcham (A), 135
  Mobilised Mandarin (The), 141
  Modern Madame (A), 27
  Modern Mangers, 183
  Modern Society Play (The), 285
  Modern Tragedy (A), 93
  Morbidezza, 204
  More Ornamental than Useful, 73
  More She-Notes, 249, 276
  Morgenlied, 145
  "Moving about in Worlds not realised," 192
  "Mowing them Down!" 66
  Mr. Punch on Billiards, 238
  Mr. Punch on Peeler Piper, 135
  Mr. Punch to Two Noble Sportsmen, 22
  Mrs. Prowlina Pry, 195
  Much Ado about Nothing, 279
  Muddy Milan, 171
  Music with a Future (The), 251
  "Mutes and Liquids," 121

  New Air (The), 87
  New and Old, 241
  New Candidate (The), 209
  New Departure (A), 216
  New Fashion (The), 167
  New Heroine (The), 293
  New Honours, 276
  New Lamps for Old, 137
  New Man (The), 167
  New Nectar (The), 286
  New Newness (The), 84
  New Party (The), 18
  News from Norwich, 131
  Next War (The), 94
  Noble Half-Hundred! 94
  Noblesse Oblige, 1, 75
  "Nobody Looking!" 246
  Nomine Tantum, 21
  Nominis Umbra, 253
  Notices to Correspondents, 286
  Not Master of himself though China fall, 74
  Novelist's Vade Mecum (The), 261
  Novelties in Gastronomy, 251

  O. B. C. (Limited) (The), 177
  Ode for the Marriage Season, 131, 142
  Ode on a Distant Partridge, 138
  Ode on Sacrifice, 49
  Ode to Ixion, 82
  Of Vain Colours, 288
  "Oh, the Mistletoe Bough!" 306
  "Oh, you Wicked Story!" 99
  "Old Offender" (An), 282
  Old Three-Vol., 63
  Oliver Wendell Holmes, 191
  Ollendorfian, 258
  On a Clumsy Cricketer, 106
  One Man One Job, 297
  On the War in the East, 133
  Operatic Notes, 17
  Origin of the Blush-Rose, 206
  Our All-round Exchangers' Company, 197
  "Our Benighted Ancestors," 132
  Our Booking-Office, 1, 22, 25, 65 107, 132, 161, 173, 181, 203, 205,
      228, 233, 252, 257, 269, 288, 300, 304
  Our Charity Fête, 60
  Our "Monthly Pops," 240
  Our National Defences, 129
  "Out we go!" 119
  Oxford and Yale, 48
  Oyster and the Sparrow (The), 93

  Page from "Rosebery's History of the Commonwealth," 106
  Partially Unreported Dialogue, 11
  Pat the Patriot, 215
  Perils of a Jesting Premier (The), 298
  "Personally Conducted," 51
  Phalse Note on George the Fourth, 204
  Phosphorescence in Art, 24
  Pier of the Empire (A), 189
  Pious Lyncher's Creed (The), 120
  Plague of Poets (The), 121
  Plaint of the Unwilling Peer (The), 82
  Polite Guide to the Civil Service (The), 207, 227, 234
  Political Conference, 231
  Polychrome English, 193
  Possible Developments, 203
  Princely Offer (A), 144
  Professor of the Period (The), 153
  Puff and a Blow (A), 21
  Pullman Car (The), 107
  Punch to the New Attorney-General, 205
  "Putting his Foot in it," 78

  Queer Queries, 83, 101, 107, 117, 246, 297
  Question and Answer, 135

  Ranelagh in Rain, 47
  Rational Dress, 101
  Reading between the Lines, 305
  Reflections, 167
  Remnants, 63
  "Rhymes," 109
  Rhyme to Rosebery, 96
  Rider's Vade Mecum (The), 51
  Riverside Lament (A), 25
  Robert and Grinnidge, 94
  Robert and Unifikashun, 281
  Robert Louis Stevenson, 303
  Robert on Amerrycans, 120
  Robert on the Wonderful Bridge again, 9
  Robert's Picter, 145
  Robert's Sollem Adwise, 217
  "Room for a Big One!" 99
  Royal Welsh Bard (The), 86
  Rubenstein, 255
  Rule, "Britannia," 33
  Runner Nuisance (The), 125

  Sapphics on Traffic, 117
  Saturday Pops, 71
  School-Board Apple-Pie (The), 219
  Scott on the New Woman, 73
  Sea-Fairies (The), 122
  Sea-quence of Sonnets (A), 153
  Seasons (The), 274
  Sitting on Our Senate, 106
  Sequel to the Story of Ung (A), 300
  Seven Ages of Rosebery (The), 165
  "Shaky!" 270
  Silly Seasoning, 110
  Slight Adaptation (A), 228
  Slow and not quite Sure, 165
  Snubbed Professional's Vade Mecum, 289
  Society for the Advancement of Literature, 89
  Soft Answer (A), 11
  Song for the Slogger (A), 117
  Song of the Impecunious Bard, 131
  Song of the Leaders (The), 201
  Song of the Twentieth Century (A), 22
  Songs of the Streets, 5, 16
  Sounding the Antitoxin, 274
  Sport for Ratepayers, 49
  State Aid for Matrimony, 13
  St. Leger Coincidence (A), 135
  Suggested Addendum (A), 126
  Sunday Lecture Case (The), 285

  Tale of a Vote (The), 201
  Tale of Two Telegrams (The), 97
  Talk à la Mode de Londres, 261
  Talk in Court, 22
  Teddie the Tiler, 192
  Tempora Mutantur, 131
  "Terrible in his Anger!" 159
  Terrible Transformation (A), 145
  Thanks to the "Bystander," 133
  That Advanced Woman! 142
  Those Lancers, 303
  "Three Cheers for the Emperor," 297
  Three Christmas Greetings, 301
  Tips, 144
  To a Lady, 294
  To Althea in Church, 145
  To Althea in the Stalls, 33
  To Amanda, 180
  To a Philanthropist, 105
  To a Pretty Unknown, 192
  To a Scorcher, 142
  To a Surrey Hostess, 85
  To a Would-be Authoress, 93
  To a Would-be Despot, 215
  To a Venetian Policeman, 195
  To a Veteran Champion, 83
  "To be taken as read," 77
  To Dorothy, 108
  To Hanwellia from Earlswood, 137
  To her Mother, 120
  To Lettina, 209
  To Melenda, 309
  To Molly, 229
  To my Beef Tea, 77
  To Philadelphia, 302
  To Sentiment, 144
  To the Oxford Cricket Captain, 17
  Touching Appeal (A), 234
  Tree with Variegated Leaves, 277
  "Tripping Merrily," 143
  Triumph of the School Board (A), 265
  True Glory, 276
  Truisms of Life (The), 287, 293
  Trust to be Trusted (A), 149
  Two "General" Favourites, 203
  Two Ways of Auditing, 206

  Unrest! 174

  Vacuous Time (The), 119
  Vade Mecum for the Naval Manoevres, 37
  Vagabond Verses, 219
  Venetian Flower-Sellers, 191
  Verse and Choral Summing-up, 203
  Verses to the Weather Maiden, 93
  "Vested Interests," 186
  Village Blacksmith (The), 282
  "Vive la République!" 6
  Voice from "the Upper Suckles" (A), 85
  Volunteer's Vade Mecum (The), 25
  Vote of Thanks (A), 65
  Voyage of Alfred (The), 113

  Waiting their Turn, 18
  War Cry (The), 54
  Wet-Willow, 107
  What's in a Name, indeed? 47
  What we may expect soon, 27
  Wheel and Whoa! 137
  Where are you going, revolting Maid? 198
  Where to go, 82
  Whims of Amphitryon (The), 245
  Whither Away? 9
  "Wigs on the Green!" 126
  "Winding'em up," 198
  With Kind Regards, 277
  Words to the Wise Women, 275

  Ye Gentlemen of Holland, 78
  Yellow Age (The), 66
  Yellow Riding-Habit (The), 94
  Yet another Memoir of Napoleon, 13
  Young Pretender (The), 138
  Yule Gretynge (A), 300

  "All's Well!" 259

  "Awkward Customer" (An), 211
  Chief Mourner (The), 223
  Corean Cockfight (The), 55
  Counting the Catch, 91
  Don't "Come unto these Yellow Sands"! 115
  "Evicted Tenants," 43
  "For Example!" 163
  "Friend in Need----" (A), 31
  Jap the Giant-killer, 151
  "Little too Previous!" (A), 103
  "Lying Low," 295
  "Mowing them Down!" 67
  "Nobody Looking!" 247
  "Oh, the Mistletoe Bough!" 67
  "Old Offender" (An), 283
  "Putting his Foot in it," 79
  "Shaky!" 271
  Touching Appeal (A), 235
  Unrest! 175
  "Vested Interests," 187
  "Vive la République!" 7
  Waiting their Turn, 19
  "Wigs on the Green," 127
  "Winding'em up!" 199
  Young Pretender (The), 139


  Admiral and his Beard, 275
  Ambiguous Invitation to the Major, 251
  Andrew dividing the Orange, 49
  Animals' Stroll in the Zoo, 81
  'Arry and Grass Seeds at Bisley, 29
  'Arry and Li Hung Chang's Feather, 180
  'Arry and the "Brighton A's," 231
  'Arry introducing 'Arriet to Bill, 193
  'Arry on the Lords and the Ladies, 261
  'Arry photographed on Horseback, 75
  Art Critic and Child's Sketch, 6

  Baby and Grandpapa's Microscope, 234
  Bad Dancer's Opinion of Girls, 22
  Bishop and Boating Clergyman, 215
  Boy's Mamma who Snores, 126
  Boy who Lost all his Buttons, 286
  British Farmer and Ceres, 134
  British Farmer's Luck turning, 26
  Broken Venus of Milo, 11
  Brown's "pretty Flat," 232
  Bullet-proof Coat for Pet Dog, 41

  Caddie's Idea of Excitement (A), 59
  Change of Name at Marriage, 167
  Chick-a-leary Cochin, 201
  Child Patient and Hospital Nurse, 102
  Civilisation and War in the East, 62
  Climbing the Araucaria, 303
  Clubber's Club, 157
  Coachman well known at West End, 42
  Colonel's Nephew's Man-Servant, 155
  "Constant Reader" writing to Papers, 209
  Contrasted Couples at Sea-side, 114
  Country Lady and Major Visitor, 198
  Cow Stamp on the Butter, 74
  Cromwell and the Statues, 98
  Curate at an Otter-hunt, 39
  Curate sings "The Brigand's Revenge," 283
  Cyclist startling Fox-hunter, 304

  Dancing Ostrich (The), 165
  Discussing a Beastly Book, 227

  Engagement Ring weights the Boat, 53
  Epicure to his Love (An), 181
  Eton Boy and the Floods, 253

  Fat Diner's Hungry Acquaintance, 297
  Fisherman's Empty Flask, 73
  Fond Wife and the Stupid Paper, 82
  Forgetting whom he took into Dinner, 210
  French Lady and our Artist's Wife, 30

  German Emperor's Song (The), 178
  Giving Hunting Mare her Head, 267
  Gladstone and the Microscope, 254
  Gladstone and the "Twelfth," 61
  Gladstonius sings to Roseberius, 230
  Golfers playing Spillikins, 27
  Grandma's Friend of Forty Years ago, 150
  Gutter Children and Cheap Gloves, 121

  Hair-dressing Room in the Commons, 202
  Harcourt as "Old Kaspar," 2
  Harcourt's Bills personally conducted, 50
  Hippopotamus Policeman, 141
  Hodge and the Apple of Power, 266
  Housewife and Lazy Tramp, 15
  Hunter's Seedy Tale (A), 171
  Hunting Party at a Deep Brook, 279

  Infant's Contempt of Court, 13
  Invalid and her Lady Visitor, 57
  Invalided Weather-Girl, 107
  Irish Chamber of Horrors, 166
  Irish Jarvey and the Scenery, 24

  Jap Lectures on the Art of War, 290
  Johnny and Pills in a Pear, 65
  Jones not Dining anywhere, 36
  Jones's Handsome Umbrella, 87
  Justin McCarthy's Anger, 158
  Juveniles discussing Hats in Church, 138

  Keeper's Dog's Force of Habit, 301
  Keeper's Remark on Strong Birds, 147
  Kitchen Improvements in the House, 214

  Ladies "at Home" to Visitors, 246
  Lady Vocalist's Small Chest (A), 277
  Laureateship Apple of Discord (The), 38
  Little Ah Sid and the Butterfly Bee, 182
  Little Boy and "'Maginations," 207
  Little Girls and Fairy Tale, 5
  Little Girl and Five-days' Foal, 69
  Little Girl and German Doctor, 191
  Little Girl's Matrimonial "Hint," 107
  Little Girl's Message to Shoemaker, 144
  London Boy and J.'s Knickerbockers, 71
  London Passenger and Paris Porters, 119
  London Schoolgirl and little Friend, 273

  Major's Cheap Burgundy, 94
  Mamma and Missie's Age, 78
  Master discharging his Coachman, 142
  Maud's Country Cousin on Horseback, 21
  Miss Golightly and her Partner, 153
  Miss Grace at a Golf Match, 159
  Miss Roland's Two Hansoms, 258
  Miss Unified London's Toys, 170
  Mr. G.'s Flirtation with Miss C., 146
  Mr. Punch at White Lodge, 1
  Mr. Simpkin's Misquotation at Dinner, 54
  Mrs. Jinks on the effect of Liqueurs, 263
  Mrs. Pry entering the Empire, 194
  Mrs. Weaver and the New Chimes, 238
  Music blending with Conversation, 18

  Nervous Amateur and Stage Fright, 118
  Nervous Youth and a Clever Beauty, 174
  New Lord Chief Justice and Punch, 14
  Newly-Upholstered Room (A), 186
  "New Woman" Rabbit-Shooter, 111
  Norfolk Bathers' Scotch Friend, 156
  Nothing stops a Hard-mouthed Grey, 51

  Old Crossing-Sweeper's Obstinacy, 83
  Old Lady of Threadneedle Street's Gold, 86
  Orlando and Rosalind Cycling, 25
  Ostentatiously Good Fences, 219

  Parliamentary Flying Machine, 217
  Parliamentary Swimming-Bath, 58
  Pat and the Kicking Horse, 255
  "Perambulators not admitted," 131
  Police making way for Perambulator, 45
  Postman and Nursery-Maids, 63
  Prehistoric Cricket-Match (A), 34
  Prehistoric Dragon-shooting, 262
  Prehistoric Football Match (A), 190
  Prehistoric Henley Regatta, 10
  Prehistoric Highland Stalking, 154
  Prehistoric Lord Mayor's Show, 226
  Prehistoric Naval Manoeuvres, 70
  Prehistoric Seaside Resort, 130
  Prehistoric Skating, 310
  Professor and Atlas Omnibuses, 287
  Punch and the Prince on Muscovy, 278
  Punch and the Sirens, 122
  Pupil Farmer thrown on his Head, 243
  Putting O'Flaherty into a Novel, 298

  Rat-tailed Hunter in the Rain, 195
  Reduced Noblemen in Disguise, 110
  Result of Sal's Re-marrying, 105
  Rosebery as Bob Acres, 218
  Row at the Schoolboard (The), 242
  Rugby Footballer at a Dance, 270

  Schoolboy and Tragedian, 123
  Scotch Landlady on Salmon-poaching, 299
  Scotchman threatens to go to Law, 265
  Scotch Parishioner and Whisky, 250
  Scotch Tourists in Search of Dinner, 183
  Shopping, not Buying, 245
  Short 'Arry and Long Alf, 149
  "Shot Over" Pony (A), 237
  Sea-Lion Ashore (The), 177
  Seven Miles from Peebles, 95
  Snapdragon Galop (The), 302
  Society Crush at Hyde Park Corner, 3
  Stork as he might have been (The), 213
  Stout Citizen and Irish Beggar, 229
  Swell compliments Splendid Dancer, 306
  Swells discussing Behaviour, 185
  Swell's Opinion about Stout Ladies, 162
  Swell suffering from Insomnia, 203

  Taking Lady's Skirt for 'Bus Apron, 291
  Temperance Enthusiast and Boatman, 274
  Three Lovers, 90
  Tommy and his Aunt's Age, 179
  Two or Three Nice Americans, 66
  Two Sons passing Examinations, 289

  Vicar's Daughter on Snoring, 294
  Volunteer Sentry and Rustic, 249
  Vulgar Boy and little Dog's Tail, 285
  Yokel's Impression of London, 106

  Washing St. Paul's suggested, 206
  Winning Jockey and Irish Stable-boy, 99

  Young Couple residing in Hill Street, 222
  Young Farmer and Groom, 305
  Young Lady's Ball Presents, 97

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: FINIS]

       *       *       *       *       *


[Transcriber's Note:

Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation are as in the original.]

*** End of this Doctrine Publishing Corporation Digital Book "Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 107, December 29th 1894" ***

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