The Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or The London Charivari, Vol. 101, August 15, 1891, by Various This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org Title: Punch, or The London Charivari, Vol. 101, August 15, 1891 Author: Various Release Date: September 18, 2004 [EBook #13491] Language: English Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH *** Produced by Malcolm Farmer, William Flis, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team
Alas! it had of course to be!
For weeks I had not left my room,
When one fell day there came on me
An awful doom.
A burly rough, who drank and swore,
Without a word—I could not shout—
Attacked me brutally, and tore
My nails right out.
Then, dragging me out to the air—
No well-conducted conscience pricked him—
He mercilessly beat me there,
His helpless victim.
With cruel zest he beat me well,
He beat me till in parts I grew—
I shudder as the tale I tell—
All black and blue.
But what on earth he was about,
I could not guess, do what I would;
But when at length he cleaned me out
I understood.
Yet do not shed a tear, because
You've heard my story told in metre,
For I'm a Carpet, and he was
A Carpet-Beater.
Thursday, June 12.—Letters from Billsbury arrive by every post, Horticultural Societies, sea-side excursions, Sunday School pic-nics, cricket club fêtes, all demand subscriptions, and, as a rule, get them. If this goes on much longer I shall be wound up in the Bankruptcy Court. Shall have to make a stand soon, but how to begin is the difficulty. Pretty certain in any case to put my foot down in the wrong place, and offend everybody. Amongst other letters came this one:—
4, Stone Street, Billsbury, June 10.
"I
will give any security you like."
Sir,—I venture to appeal to your generosity in a matter which I am sure you will recognise to be of the highest importance. My services to the Conservative Party in Billsbury are well-known. I can safely say that no man has, during the last ten years, worked harder than I have to promote Conservative interests, and for a smaller reward. My exertions at the last election brought on a violent attack of malarial fever, which laid me up for some months, and from which I still suffer. The shaky character of my hand-writing attests the sufferings I have gone through, and the shattered condition of my bodily health at the present moment. I lost my situation as head-clerk in the Export Department of the Ironmongers' Association, and found myself, at the age of forty, compelled to begin life again with a wife and three children. Everything I have turned my hand to has failed, and I am in dire want. May I ask you, under these circumstances, to be so good as to advance me £500 for a few months. I will give any security you like. Perhaps I might repay some part of the loan by doing work for you during the election. This must be a small matter to a wealthy and generous man like you. To me it is a matter of life and death. Anxiously awaiting your early and favourable reply, and begging you to keep this application a secret,
That sounded heart-breaking, but I happened to know that Mr. PIDGIN's "malarial fever" was nothing but delirium tremens, brought on by a prolonged course of drunkenness. Hence his shaky handwriting, &c. BLISSOP had warned me against him. Wrote back that, in view of the Corrupt Practices Act, it was impossible for me to relieve individual cases.
Called on the PENFOLDS this afternoon. They are up from Billsbury for their stay in London, and have got a house in Eaton Square. To my surprise found Mrs. BELLAMY and MARY there. That was awkward, especially as MARY looked at me, as I thought, very meaningly, and asked me if I didn't think SOPHY PENFOLD sweetly pretty. I muttered something about preferring a darker type of beauty (MARY's hair is as black as my hat), to which MARY replied that perhaps, after all, that kind of pink and white beauty with hair like tow was rather insipid. The BELLAMYS it seems met the PENFOLDS at a dinner last week, and the girls struck up a friendship, this call being the result. Young PENFOLD, whom I had never seen before, was there and was infernally attentive to MARY. He's in the 24th Lancers, and looks like a barber's block. Mrs. BELLAMY said to me, "I've been hearing so much about you from dear Lady PENFOLD. They all have the highest opinion of you. In fact, Lady PENFOLD said she felt quite like a mother to you. And how kind of you to buy so many things from Miss PENFOLD at the Bazaar. What are my father's noble lines?
"True kindness is no blustering rogue that struts
With empty mouthings on the stage of life,
But, like a tender, timid plant that shuts
At every touch, it shrinks from noisy strife."
(And so forth, I've forgotten the rest.) "I love kindness," continued Mrs. BELLAMY, "in young men. By the way, will you excuse a short invitation, and dine with us the day after to-morrow? All the PENFOLDS are coming." I said yes, and made up my mind that I must settle matters with MARY one way or another before complications got worse, or young PENFOLD made any more progress. I felt all the afternoon as if I'd committed a crime.
Friday, June 13th.—Three cheers. I've done it. Called on the BELLAMYS to-day. Found MARY alone. She was very sarcastic, but at last I could stand it no longer, and told her I had never loved and never should love anybody but her. Then she burst into tears, and I—anyhow she's promised to marry me. Have to interview Mrs. BELLAMY to-morrow. No time to do it to-day, as she was out till late. Chuck her up!
Mother received the news very well. "Accepted you, my darling boy?" she said. "Of course she did. How could she do otherwise? Bring her to see me soon. She shall, of course, have all the family jewels immediately, and the dining-room furniture too. There'll be a few other trifles too, I daresay, that you'll be glad of." Dear Mother, she's the kindest soul in the world. Carlo has been informed of the news, and is said to have manifested an extraordinarily intelligent appreciation of it, by insisting on a second helping for supper. He's a remarkable dog.
["The position of the Jews in Russia becomes daily more terrible. An order that they are henceforth to work upon their Sabbath and holy festivals is about to be issued and put in force."—Standard.—"A most pertinent illustration of the falsity of repeated rumours and reports representing in some cases a strong disposition, and in others an actual decision, on the part of the CZAR and the Russian Government, to alleviate the miseries of the Jews."—Times.]
Who said the scourge should slacken? Who foretold
The goad should cease, the shackle loose its hold?
The wish, perchance, fathered once more the thought,
Though long experience against it fought.
Not so! The CZAR's in Muscovy, and all
Is well with—Tyranny! The harried thrall
Shall still be harried, though, a little while,
The Autocrat on the Republic smile;
The Jew shall be robbed, banished, outraged still,
Although the tyrant, with a shuddering thrill
Diplomacy scarce hides, for some brief days
Must listen to the hated "Marseillaise!"
Fear not, Fanatic! Despot do not doubt!
The rule of Orthodoxy and the Knout
Is not yet over wholly. France may woo,
Columbia plead, the Jew is still the Jew;
And, spite of weak humanitarian fuss,
CÆSAR be praised, the Russ is still the Russ!
A GROUSE OUTRAGE.—Shooting them before the Twelfth.
St. Patrick, they say,
Kicked the snakes in the say,
But, ochone! if he'd had such a hound-pack as mine,
I fancy the Saint,
(Without further complaint)
Would have toed the whole troop of them into the brine.
Once they shivered and stared,
At my whip-cracking scared;
Now the clayrics with mitre and crosier and book,
Put the scumfish on me,
And, so far as I see,
There's scarce a dog-crayture
But's changed in his nature.
I must beat some game up by hook or by crook,
[pg 75]But my chances of Sport
Are cut terribly short
On St. Grouse's Day in the morning!
With a thundering polthogue,
And the toe of my brogue,
I'd like to kick both of 'em divil knows where!
Sure I broke 'em meself,
And, so long "on the shelf"
They ought to be docile, the dogs of my care.
O'BRIEN mongrel villin,
And as for cur DILLON
Just look at him ranging afar at his will!
I thought, true as steel,
They would both come to heel,
Making up for the pack
Whistled off by false MAC,
As though he'd ever shoot with my patience and skill!
To me ye'll not stick, Sirs?
What divil's elixirs
Tempt ye on the Twelfth in the morning?
Plague on ye, come back!
Och! ye villainous pack,
Ye slaves of the Saxon, ye blind bastard bunch!
Whelps weak and unstable,
I only am able
The Celt-hating Sassenach wholly to s-c-rr-unch!
Yet for me ye won't work,
But sneak homeward and shirk,
Ye've an eye on the ould spider, GLADSTONE, a Saxon!
He'll sell ye, no doubt.
Sure, a pig with ring'd snout
Is a far boulder baste
Than such mongrels! The taste
Of the triple-plied thong BULL will lay your base backs on
Will soon make ye moan
That ye left me alone
On St. Grouse's Day in the morning!
Ay! "After many a summer dies the Swan."1
But singing dies, if we may trust the Muse.
And sweet thou singest as when fully ran
Youth's flood-tide. Not to thee did Dawn refuse
The dual gift. Our new Tithonus thou,
On whom the indignant Hours work not their will,
Seeing that, though old age may trench thy brow,
It cannot chill thy soul, or mar thy skill.
Aurora's rosy shadows bathe thee yet,
Nor coldy. "Give me immortality!"
Tithonus cried, and lingered to regret
The careless given boon. Not so with thee.
Such immortality is thine as clings
To "happy men that have the power to die."
The Singer lives on whilst the Song he sings
Charms the world's heart. Such immortality
Is better than unending lapse of years.
For that the great god-gift, Eternal Youth,
Accompanies it; the failures, the chill fears
Tithonus knew thou may'st be spared in truth,
Seeing that thine Aurora's quickening breath
Lives in thee whilst thou livest, so that thou
Needst neither dread nor pray for kindly Death,
Like "that grey shadow once a man." And now,
Great Singer, still we wish thee length of days,
Song-power unslackened, and unfading bays!
Footnote 1: (return)"Tithonus."
The Proprietor. "I'LL TELL YOU WHAT IT IS, SHARDSON, I'M GETTING SICK OF THE 'OLE BLOOMIN' SHOW! THE KNACKER AIN'T SELLING A SCRAP—NO NOTICE TOOK OF US ANYWHERE—NOT A BLOOMIN' ADVERTISEMENT! AND YET THERE AIN'T 'ARDLY A LIVIN' ENGLISHMAN OF MARK, FROM TENNYSON DOWNWARDS, AS WE 'AVEN'T SHOWN UP AND PITCHED INTO, AND DRAGGED 'IS NAME IN THE MUD!"
The Editor. "DON'T LET'S THROW UP THE SPONGE YET, OLD MAN! LET'S GIVE THE DEAD 'UNS A TURN—LET'S HAVE A SHY AT THACKERAY, BROWNING, GEORGE ELIOT, OR, BETTER STILL, LET'S BESPATTER GENERAL GORDON AND CARDINAL NEWMAN A BIT,—THAT OUGHT TO FETCH 'EM A FEW, AND BRING US INTO NOTICE!"
WHAT HOE! RAIKES!—When King RICHARD—no, beg his pardon, Mr. RICHARD KING—says, as quoted in the Times, "That he can only assume that Mr. RAIKES purposely availed himself of a technicality to cover a statement which was a palpable suggestio falsi," he throws something unpleasant into the teeth of RAIKES. It is as well to remember that rakes have teeth.
"LATINÉ DOCTUS."—A Cantab, neither a first-rate sailor nor a first-class classic, arrived at Calais after a rough passage, looking, as his friend, who met him on the quai, observed, "so changed he would hardly have known him." "That's it," replied the staggering graduate, "quantum mutatus ab billow!" Oh! he must have been bad!
I paused in a crowded street,
I only desired to ride—
Only to wait for a Hammersmith 'bus
With room for myself outside;
When I caught the nastiest tune
My ear had ever heard,
And asked the Police to take it away,
But never a man of them stirred.
So the singer still sang on;
She would not, would not go;
She sang a song of the year before last
That struck me as rather low.
She followed with one that was high,
That made the tear-drops start,
That was "Hi-tiddly-i-ti! Hi!-ti!-hi!"
The song that broke my heart!
WHAT is A "DEMOGRAPHER"?—Those Londoners who ask this question will have already obtained a practical answer, as, this week, London is full of Demographers, to whom Mr. Punch, Grand Master of all Demographers (or "writers for the people"), gives a hearty welcome. All hail to "The New Demogracy!"
ear CHARLIE,—It's 'ot, and no
error! Summer on us, at last, with a bust;
Ninety odd in the shade as I write, I've a 'ed, and a thunderin' thust.
Can't go on the trot at this tempryture, though I'm on 'oliday still;
So I'll pull out my eskrytor, CHARLIE, and give you a touch of my quill.
If you find as my fist runs to size, set it down to that quill, dear old pal;
Correspondents is on to me lately, complains as I write like a gal.
Sixteen words to the page, and slopscrawly, all dashes and blobs. Well, it's true;
But a quill and big sprawl is the fashion, so wot is a feller to do?
Didn't spot you at 'Enley, old oyster—I did 'ope you'd shove in your oar.
We 'ad a rare barney, I tell you, although a bit spiled by the pour.
'Ad a invite to 'OPKINS's 'Ouse-boat, prime pitch, and swell party, yer know,
Pooty girls, first-class lotion, and music. I tell yer we did let things go.
Who sez 'Enley ain't up to old form, that Society gives it the slip?
Wish you could 'ave seen us—and heard us—old boy, when aboard of our ship.
Peonies and poppies ain't in it for colour with our little lot,
And with larfter and banjos permiskus we managed to mix it up 'ot.
My blazer was claret and mustard, my "stror" was a rainbow gone wrong;
I ain't one who's ashamed of his colours, but likes 'em mixed middlingish strong.
'EMMY 'OPKINS, the fluffy-'aired daughter, a dab at a punt or canoe,
Said I looked like a garden of dahlias, and showed up her neat navy blue.
Fair mashed on yours truly, Miss EMMY; but that's only jest by the way,
'ARRY ain't one to brag of bong four tunes; but wot I wos wanting to say
Is about this here "spiling the River" which snarlers set down to our sort.
Bosh! CHARLIE, extreme Tommy rot! It's these sniffers as want to spile sport.
Want things all to theirselves, these old jossers, and all on the strictest Q.T.
Their idea of the Thames being "spiled" by the smallest suggestion of spree,
Wy it's right down rediklus, old pal, gives a feller the ditherums, it do.
I mean going for them a rare bat, and I'm game to wire in till all's blue.
Who are they, these stuckuppy snipsters, as jaw about quiet and peace,
Who would silence the gay "constant-screamer" and line the Thames banks with perlice;
Who sneer about "'ARRY at 'Enley," and sniff about "cads on the course,"
As though it meant "Satan in Eden"? I'll 'owl at sich oafs till I'm 'oarse!
Scrap o'sandwich-greased paper'll shock 'em, a ginger-beer bottle or "Bass,"
Wot 'appens to drop 'mong the lilies, or gets chucked aside on the grass,
Makes 'em gasp like a frog in a frying-pan. Br-r-r-r! Wot old mivvies they are!
Got nerves like a cobweb, I reckon, a smart Banjo-twang makes 'em jar.
I'm Toffy, you know, and no flies, CHARLIE; swim with the Swells, and all that,
But I'm blowed if this bunkum don't make me inclined to turn Radical rat.
"Riparian Rights," too! Oh Scissors! They'd block the Backwaters and Broads,
Because me and my pals likes a lark! Serve 'em right if old BURNS busts their 'oards!
Rum blokes, these here Sosherlist spouters! There's DANNEL, the Dosser, old chap.
As you've 'eard me elude to afore. Fair stone-broker, not wuth 'arf a rap,—
Knows it's all Cooper's ducks with him, CHARLIE; won't run to a pint o' four 'arf,
And yet he will slate me like sugar, and give me cold beans with his charf.
Sez DANNEL—and dash his darned cheek, CHARLIE!—"Monkeys like you"—meaning Me!—
"Give the latter-day Mammon his chance. Your idea of a lark or a spree
Is all Noise, Noodle-Nonsense, and Nastiness! Dives, who wants an excuse
For exclusiveness, finds it in you, you contemptible coarse-cackling goose!
"Riparian rights? That's the patter of Ahab to Naboth, of course;
But 'tis pickles like you make it plausible, louts such as you give it force.
You make sweet Thames reaches Gehennas, the fair Norfolk Broads you befoul;
You—you, who'd make Beulah a hell with your blatant Bank Holiday howl!
"Decent property-owners abhor you; you spread your coarse feasts on their lawns,
And 'ARRY's a hog when he feeds, and an ugly Yahoo when he yawns;
You litter, and ravage, and cock-sky; you romp like a satyr obscene,
And the noise of you rises to heaven till earth might blush red through her green.
"You are moneyed, sometimes, and well-tailored; but come you from Oxford or Bow,
You're a flaring offence when you lounge, and a blundering pest when you row;
Your 'monkeyings' mar every pageant, your shindyings spoil every sport,
And there isn't an Eden on earth but's destroyed when it's 'ARRY's resort.
"Then monopolist Mammon may chuckle, Riparian Ahabs rejoice;
There's excuse in your Caliban aspect, your hoarse and ear-torturing voice,
You pitiful Cockney-born Cloten, you slum-bred Silenus, 'tis you
Spoil the silver-streamed Thames for Pan-lovers, and all the nymph-worshipping crew!"
But it's time that this bunkum was bunnicked, bin fur too much on it of late—
Us on 'OPKINS's 'Ouse-boat, I tell yer, cared nix for the ink-spiller's "slate."
I mean doin' them Broads later on, for free fishing and shooting, that's flat.
If I don't give them dash'd Norfolk Dumplings a doing, I'll 'eat my old 'at.
Rooral quiet, and rest, and refinement? Oh, let 'em go home and eat coke.
These fussy old footlers whose 'air stands on hend at a row-de-dow joke,
The song of the skylark sounds pooty, but "skylarking" song's better fun,
And you carn't do the rooral to-rights on a tract and a tuppenny bun.
As to colour, and kick-up, and sing-song, our party was fair to the front;
But we wosn't alone; lots of toppers, in 'Ouse-Boat, or four-oar, or punt,
Wos a doin' the rorty and rosy as lively as 'OPKINS's lot,
Ah! the swells sling it out pooty thick; they ain't stashed by no ink-spiller's rot.
Bright blazers, and twingle-twang banjoes, and bottles of Bass, my dear boy,
Lots of dashing, and splashing, and "mashing" are things every man must enjoy,
And the petticoats ain't fur behind 'em, you bet. While top-ropes I can carry,
It ain't soap-board slop about "Quiet" will put the clear kibosh on
["It is a good rule of practice to devote one portion of a short vacation to the serious and necessary business of doing nothing, and doing it very thoroughly too."—Letter to the Times.]
At last my time for rest has arrived. Musn't be idle, though. Dr. MORTIMER GRANVILLE says it would be most injurious to my health. Must hunt up precedents for leisure leading to no results. Let me see—why not try the British Museum? Sure to find something useful there—and useless, which will be more appropriate.
Take an omnibus. See one in the distance. Hail it. Conductor takes no notice! Shout and hurry after it. Try to attract attention of the driver. Failure. Capital commencement to my labours. Had my run for nothing!
Victory! Stopped one partially occupied. No room outside. Enter interior. Six passengers on one seat. Five on the other. The half dozen regard me with contemptuous indifference. The five make no room. Explain that I want a seat. Remark received in silence. Sit down on knee of small boy. Mother (next him) expostulates—angrily. Chorus of indignant beholders. Conductor is impertinent. Ask for his number, he asks for my fare. Pay him. While this is going on, young woman has entered omnibus, and taken vacant seat. Conductor counts places, says there is no room. Can't carry me. Won't give back fare—has torn off ticket. Says I must get out. Say I will report him. Impudent again. Getting out drop ticket. Incident subsequently (to my later satisfaction) leads to nothing!
Won't have anything more to do with the omnibuses. Enter hansom—old man (the driver) smiles civilly when I say "British Museum." Now, I must seriously rest. Go to sleep. Slumber until awakened by a jolt. Look out. Find myself near the river. Strikes me that the Thames is not close to the Museum. Appeal to cabman through the hole in the roof. Difficulty in attracting his attention. Stop him at last. Ask him why he did not take me to the Museum. He smiles and says he didn't hear me—he is deaf! Very angry. He expostulates, civilly. He saw I was asleep and didn't wish to disturb me! He has been driving up and down the Thames Embankment for the last three hours—charge seven and sixpence. Don't see my way out of the difficulty, except by payment. He thanks me, and suggests that he shall now drive me to the Museum for eighteen-pence. Very angry and refuse. He is hailed by someone else, and is off to pick up his new fare. On consideration it seems to me that my anger has led to nothing. Nothing—just what I wanted, but not exactly at the right moment.
Rather hungry. Enter a restaurant. Crowded with gentlemen wearing hats—who seem to be on intimate terms with the waiters. Get a bill of fare which is thrust into my hands by an attendant loaded with dishes. Let me see—what shall I have? "Lamb's head and peas." Have never tried this dish. Might be good. Waiter (who seems to be revolving, like the planetary system, in an orbit) reaches me, and I shout what I want. He replies, "Sorry, Sir, just off," and vanishes. Look up something else. "Liver and bacon." Not had it for years! Used to like it. On reappearance of the planetary waiter, give my order. He nods and vanishes. Wait patiently. Rather annoyed that my nearest neighbour has used my part of the table for a dish containing broad beans. Glare at him. No result. Planetary waiter has passed me twice—stop him angrily the third time. He is less busy now—he pauses. He thrusts bill of fare before me, and asks me "what I would please to want." Explode and shout in tones of thunder, "Liver and bacon!" He disappears, and comes back a few minutes later, saying, "Very sorry, but when I first ordered it, liver and bacon was on—now it's off. Will I have a chop?" Reply angrily, "No." Same answer to "Steak," "Duck and green peas," "A cut off the beef joint," and "Irish stew." Waiter asks (with forced civility), "What will I have!" I return, as I leave the restaurant, "Nothing!" On regaining the street (although hungry) I am pleased to think that I am still obeying Dr. MORTIMER GRANVILLE's directions!
No use trying cab or omnibus. Both failures. Why not walk? Good way of wasting time, so begin to go northward, and in due course get to Bloomsbury. Enter Museum. Umbrella seized. Approach Reading Room. Civil attendant informs me that the Library is closed—taking stock, or something! Then I have come all this way for nothing! Angry, but inwardly contented. Doing nothing "very thoroughly!"
Turn back. Why not go to a theatre? Certainly. Go to four in succession, and find them all closed! Well, good way of wasting time, Shall I visit one of the Exhibitions? Chelsea or Earl's Court? After consideration, come to the conclusion that this would be worse than doing nothing. Must draw the line somewhere!
After all, there is no place like home. Or shall I go to my Club? Yes. Get there. Find it is being repaired, and that the members are taken in somewhere else. Hate new scenes and new faces. Return to my first idea, and make for my private address; but feel that it may be rather dull, as my wife and the children are at the seaside. Still, somebody can get me a little supper. At least, I hope so. Find my latch-key is of no use, on account of the chain being up. Ring angrily, when a charwoman in a bonnet appears, and explains that the servants, not expecting me home so early, have gone to the play, having locked up the larder. Charwoman agrees with me that it is disgraceful—especially the locking up of the larder.
However, it can't be helped. Make up my mind to go to bed, and get fast asleep, thoroughly tired out with the labours of a day spent in doing absolutely nothing! Hope (in my dreams) that Dr. MORTIMER GRANVILLE will be satisfied!
Whether they'll be as long as those of Midas,
Or stand out salient from either side as
A close-cropped ARRY's, at right angles set
To his flat jowl, we cannot settle, yet;
But in one thing, at least, a score they'll chalk—
They will not hear the stuff their fathers talk!
DEFINITION.—"La haute Cuisine"—the kitchen on the top flat of a ten-storey'd mansion.
[Lord TENNYSON, under this heading, writes appealing to Englishmen for subscriptions to the funds of the "Gordon Boys' Home" at Woking, which is in want of £40,000. Contributions should be sent to the Treasurer, General Sir DIGHTON PROBYN, V.C., Marlborough House, Pall Mall.]
Are we sleeping? "Have we forgotten?" Like the thrust of an Arab spear
Comes that conscience-piercing-question from the Singer of Haslemere.
Have we indeed forgotten the hero we so be-sang,
When across the far south sand-wastes the news of his murder rang?
Forgotten? So it had seemed to him, as alone afar he lay,
With the Nile to watch for laggard friends, fierce foes to hold at bay;
Though the tired red lines toiled onward up the Cataracts, and we
Dreamed of the shout of the rescuing host his eyes should never see.
When chivalrous BURNABY lay slain, with a smile in the face of death,
And for happy news from the hungry wastes men yearned with bated breath;
When WILSON pushed his eager way past torrent-swirl and crag,
Till they saw o'er GORDON's citadel wave high—the MAHDI's flag.
That shame was surely enough, enough, that sorrow had a sting
Our England should not court again. The Laureate's accents ring
With scorn suppressed, a scorn deserved indeed, if still our part
Is to forget a purpose high that was dear to GORDON's heart.
"This earth has borne no simpler, nobler man." So then sang he
Who sounds a keen reveille now. "Can you help us?" What say we?
Oh, out on words, that come like WOLSELEY's host too late—too late!
Do—do, in the simple silent way that made lost GORDON great.
Surely these Boys that GORDON loved in the Home with GORDON's name
Should speak to every English heart that cares for our England's fame;
And what be forty thousand pounds as an offering made to him
Who held so high that same bright fame some do their worst to dim!
Fit task for patriot poet, this! TYRTÆUS never stood
More worthily for heroic hearts or his home-land's highest good.
Give! give! and with free hands! His spirit's poor, his soul is hard,
Who heeds not our noblest Hero's appeal through the lips of our noblest Bard!
A REMINISCENCE AND A QUOTATION.—It is reported that two Gaiety burlesque-writers are about to re-do Black-Eye'd Susan "up to date," of course, as is now the fashion. As the typical melodramatic tragedian observes, "'Tis now some twenty-five years ago" that FRED DEWAR strutted the first of his five hundred nights or so on the stage as Captain Crosstree, that PATTY OLIVER sang with trilling effect her "Pretty Seeusan," and that DANVERS, as Dame Hatly, danced like a rag-doll in a fantoccini-show. To quote the Poet CRABBE, and to go some way back in doing so,—
"I see no more within our borough's bound
The name of DANVERS!"
Which lines will be found in No. XVII. of the Poet's "Posthumous Tales."
In a restaurant-Pullman he books
His seat, a luxurious craze.
Most travellers now take their Cooks,
And everyone's going to Gaze.
IBERIAN-HIBERNIAN.—Sir,—In Ireland since the time when the Armada came to grief on its coasts, there have always existed Spanish names, either pure, as in the instance of Valencia, or slightly mixed. In Spain the Celtic names are found in the same way, and an instance occurs on the border-land of Spain and Southern France, in the name of the place to which the Spanish Premier has gone for his holiday, viz., Bagnères-de-Bigorre. If "Bigorre" isn't "Begorra," what is it? DON PATRICK DE CORQUEZ.
Belinda dear, once on a time
I doted on your every feature,
I wrote you billets doux in rhyme
In which I called you "charming creature."
No lover half so keen as I,
Than mine no ardent passion stronger,
So I should like to tell you why
I cannot love you any longer.
When I was yours and you were mine,
Your hair, I thought, was most delightful,
But now, through Fashion's last design,
It looks, to my taste, simply frightful!
Though why this should be I don't know,
For I can think of nothing madder
Than hair decked out in coils that go
To make what seems to be a ladder.
Unhappy day, when first you dressed
Your tresses thus—how you must rue it!
For you yourself, you know, confessed
It took you several hours to do it.
Oh, tell me, is it but a snare
Designed to captivate another,
Or do you merely bind your hair
Because you're bidden by your mother?
Again—you will not take it ill—
You are, my dear, distinctly dumpy:
A flowing cape it's certain will
Well—not become one short and stumpy.
Yet since, although you are not tall,
You wear a cape, you may take my word
That in the mouths of one and all
You have become a very byword.
So this is why my love has fled—
If ever there should come a season
When you shall show some sense instead
Of such an utter lack of reason,
If I should still be fancy free,
Why then it's only right to mention
That, if you care to write to me,
I'll give your claims my best attention.
A NOTE.—In Black and White for August 8 there is a large picture representing a group of English Dramatists, amongst whom please specially notice a figure intended for Mr. W.S. GILBERT (it was thoughtful and kind of the artist to put the names below), who is apparently explaining to a select few why he has been compelled to come out in this strange old coat and these queer collars. All the Dramatists look as cheerful as mutes at a funeral, their troubled expression of countenance probably arising from the knowledge that somewhere hidden away is a certain eminently unbiassed Ibsenitish critic who has been engaged to do the lot in a lump. From this exhibition of collective wisdom turn to p. 203, and observe the single figure of a cabman, drawn by an artist who certainly has a Keene appreciation of the style of Mr. Punch's inimitable "C.K."
Boxing the Compass.
Question. I think you have been to the Royal Naval Exhibition at Chelsea.
Answer. I have. I was induced to make the journey by an advertising placard posted on two official boards outside the Admiralty.
Q. What was your first impression on reaching the grounds usually open to the public, but now reserved for commercial purposes?
A. That the Public were extremely benevolent to permit so long an infringement of their right of way and other privileges.
Q. After you had entered the Exhibition, what was your initial impression?
A. That a great number of the exhibits were not very appropriate advertisements.
Q. Did you see Seamen of the Royal Navy making an exhibition of themselves in the Arena?
A. I did; and could not help contrasting with the feebly-histrionic display the recent order in Paris forbidding the French soldiers to take part in theatrical representations.
Q. Was the display of these seamen of the Royal Navy particularly impressive?
A. No, and I fancy that some of the audience who had paid an extra sixpence to see it from the Grand Stand, were slightly disappointed.
Q. Besides the cutlass and gun drill, did you see these seamen (wearing Her Majesty's uniform), take part in any other performance?
A. I did, and for this, too, an extra sixpence was charged for the use of the Grand Stand. They waded about in a sort of tank or large bath with models of ironclads on their heads.
Q. So far as you could see was this last display conducive to the maintenance of strict discipline?
A. I should say not, the more especially as I noticed towards the close of the display that the men seemed inclined to indulge in larking.
Q. Has this raree show caused you to wish to enlist in the Royal Navy?
A. Certainly not. The gun and cutlass drill before a paying audience reminded me of The Battle of Waterloo at Astley's.
Q. But would you not like to join the Royal Navy, so that you might be qualified to perform in a tank?
A. No; for on consideration I think if I wished to do anything in the "comic water-tournament line," I could make better terms with Mr. SANGER than the Lords of the Admiralty.
QUEER QUERIES.—POPULAR PRICES.—Would any reader inform me what is the lowest price at which wholesome aërated waters are sold? I have been drinking some "Shadwell Seltzer, special cuvée," at a penny-halfpenny the syphon, and I fancy this may have something to do with my present symptoms, which include partial paralysis of the left side, violent spasms, an almost irresistible tendency to homicide, together with excruciating pain in every part of the body. My doctor says the lead in the syphons has "permeated my system." When I am better, I intend to prosecute the manufacturer. My doctor discourages the notion. He says he does not know if an action would "lie," but he is sure the manufacturer would!—TEETOTALLER.
HELVETIAN SIXTH-CENTURY MOTTO.—"'Tell' est La Vie!"—en Suisse.
Grandolph
and the Wild Turkey.
Begin to regret dinners on board the Grantully Castle. The other day was regretting the Amphitryon. Don't go so far back as the Albemarle-Street Amphitryon, quite satisfied with a simple Donald Currie. [Mem.—The proverb hath much truth in it that saith, "Go farther and fare worse."] Sick of chicken. With poetic epigrammacy might say, "Quite sick Of chick." Stringy chickens, too! One has to tug at them; sort of game of "poulet-hauly"—as DRUMMY would say. Though were he here, I doubt if he would say anything. He certainly would eat nothing: probably would only open his mouth to observe, "I'm off!" and then we should see him no more. Quite right. So would I—but for "my oath, my Lord, my oath!" (N.B.—This is a quotation. Sure of it. Where from? Don't know. Tragedy probably; sounds tragic. No matter. Can give it with effect in a speech, and Members turn to one another and ask, "What's that from?" When they ask me confidentially afterwards, I reply with an air of intense surprise, "What! don't you know! Well!!" and I turn on my heel, leaving CHUCKLEHEAD, M.P., annoyed with himself,—"planté là" as DRUMMY would say,—for being so ignorant, and for having displayed his ignorance so palpably. Off he goes to British Museum and searches for quotation. This gives him opportunity of acquiring much useful knowledge, which, but for me, he would not have had. Rather a long parenthesis this. So—on we goes again.)
À propos of exploring, the other day, a digger's assistant came up to me and inquired "If I had," as I understood him, "my gin pack'd." I returned that I never took spirits. Found out subsequently that word was spelt "mijinpacht," which is African-Dutch for "lease." Well, why didn't he say so before? Of course I have, and plenty of 'em; else why am I here?
To-day went to see the ore in the Robinson Crusoe Mines. As D.W. would say, "The site strikes me with ore!"
Much interested, of course, in inspecting the Salisbury Mine. Naturally, I put in my claim for the Salisbury. What's in a name and a family, if one can't get some good out of 'em? Intend to start the "Uncle Mine." Fine chance. Any place where there's a large and fluctuating Pop-ulation (with emphasis on the "Pop"), the Uncle Mine is a certainty." But Oh, for the "pop,"—I mean the dear old fizz,—and the older it is, the dearer it is,—at the Amphitryon.
The Transvaal's the place for living in. Here life is life, be it never so lively. The only nuisance is the Boer; and the Boer's a hass, or rather a mule. That's my opinion of Boers individually and collectively; I make no concessions to them; hang 'em, they've already got enough. If this country had been in the hands of Englishmen, or Americans, or both jointly (talking of jointly, we'd have had better dinners than we get now but of this anon—) with a certain person whom I can mention, and who is not a hundred miles distant from the present writer at this moment, as Head of affairs, an Imperial ruler, with power to add to his number (which number would be One, and would remain so), then this country, in a very short time, would have ruled the world. What ports, what champagnes, what railroads, what shipping, what commerce, what an Imperial Parliament, with the Despot in the Chair in both Houses, all speeches, except the Despot's, limited to five minutes apiece, and no reduction on talking a quantity. Oh, for one hour of this power, and the Amphitryon be blowed! Aha! Grandolphus Africanus Protector to begin with; Grandolphus Africanus Rex to go on with; and Grandolphus Africanissimmus Imperator to finish with!
Grandolphus
Africanus.
Now to dinner! On what? Yah! tough beef, woolly mutton and stringy chicken. And to think that but for the Boers, the beastly Boers, we should have had the finest teal, wild duck, venison, goslings, asparagus, French beans, best Welsh mutton, and real turtle soup every day au choix!! But what did the Boers do? Why, they ascertained that skins and feathers, and shells, were valuable, whereupon they went to work, shot everything everywhere, sold skins and feathers, and shells! So that deer and birds hadn't a chance. If they popped out, pop went the guns like the original weasel, which some years ago was always popping, and the poor dumb animals with the pleading eyes and the tender flesh were slaughtered wholesale. In this manner, too, the game soon came to an end, as it must do whenever the game is so one-sided as it was here. Then, as I have said, the shells were valuable! The shells! What chance had the tortoise and the turtle? "'Tis the voice of the turtle, I heard him complain." (What's that from? That's from WATTS—eh?) What chance had the peas, however wild? or a bean as broad as one of ——'s after-dinner stories? Ah! it makes me sad and angry, and once again I cry Oh, for an hour, and that the dinner-hour, aboard the Grantully Castle! Ay! even though the G.O.M. were on board; for he could appreciate the daily Currie which to me is now perdu. Well! so to dinner "with what appetite I may," and then on to Pretoria, of which place I think I shall change the name to Pre-radicallia or Pre-fourthpartia. You see Pre-toria implies one who was Toryer than a Tory. Aha! what is my scheme? Do you see the picture? GRANDOLPHUS IMPERATOR REX AURIFERORUM MEORUM (Latiné for "Mines") surrounded by his Pretorian Guards.
"What larks! Killed four-and-twenty blackbirds all in a
row! at one shot!!!"
Went out shooting before dinner. Killed one wild turkey,
after an awful struggle, in which I very nearly got the worst
of it; but fortunately the turkey was unarmed, though for all
that he used his drumsticks in such a manner as in a little
more would have brought flocks of other furious wild turkeys on
to the scene, had I not, with great presence of mind and one
small bullet [pg 84] out of my spring-pea rifle
managed to crack the parchment-like skin which covers his
drum, and at the same time broken one of his sticks. Then,
he fell. Carried him home on my back. What larks! Killed
four-and-twenty blackbirds at one shot as they were all
sitting in a row on a rail. They were so frightened of me,
it made 'em quail!! Wonderful transformation, wasn't
it? But fact, all the same. Four-and-twenty quail All on a
rail. Killed eighty "Koran," a Mahomedan bird, very scarce,
and therefore bring in a considerable Mahomet, or, (ahem)
profit? See? Shot a "Tittup"—so called on account of
its peculiar action after drinking; also three early German
Beerbirds, or, as the Dutchmen call them, "Spring-boks."
There is another origin for this name, which is also likely,
and that is that they don't appear when there's an early
spring, but when the spring is rather backward then they
come forward. Whichever you like, my little dear, you pays
your money, &c., &c. After all these exciting
adventures—"The game is cook'd, and now we'll go to
dinner!"—quotation from early Dramatist, by Yours
ever, 
O poor Mr. ATKINSON, victim of fate,
Who bowed when you ought to have lifted your hat,
When the Session is over it's far—far too late,
To give notice of this and give notice of that.
Your attempts to be funny are amazing to see,
It's a dangerous venture to pose as a wit.
Though the voters of Boston may love their M.P.,
It may end in their giving you notice—to quit!
Short Papers in Magazines.—"A starry night Is the shepherd's delight," and as this sort of night is to the pastor, so are short stories in Monthly Magazines to the Baron. Moreover, his recommendation of them is, as he knows from numerous grateful Correspondents, "a boon and a blessing" to such as follow his lead. He owns to a partiality for the weird, and if he can come across a brief "curdler," he at once singles it out for the delectation of those whose taste is in the same direction. But no curdler has he come across for some considerable time; but for short essays and tales to be read by ladies in some quiet half-hour before toiletting or untoiletting, or by the weaker sex in the smoking-room, the Baron begs to commend "THACKERAY's Portraits of Himself," as interesting to Thackerayans, and "A Maiden Speech," in Murray, for August, the latter being rather too sketchy, though in its sketchiness artistic, as, like Sam Weller's love-letter, it makes you "wish as there was more of it."
Commended also by the Baron are "The Story of a Violin," by ERNEST DOWSON, and "Heera Nund," by F.A. STEEL, in Macmillan. If "A First Family of Tasajara" is continued as well as it is commenced in the same above-mentioned Mac-azine, it will be about as good a tale as BRET HARTE has ever written, and that is saying a good deal, mind you.
Unfinished Stories—that is, Stories finished in style, yet, as another contradiction in terms, short stories without any end, are rather the vogue nowadays in Magazines. Let me recommend as specimens "Francesca's Revenge" in Blackwood, and "Disillusioned" in London Society.
Don't tell the Baron that these hints are unappreciated. He knows better. He can produce letters imploring him to read and notice, letters asking him what to read, and letters complaining that his advice is not more frequently given. Aware of this responsibility, he never recommends what he has not himself read, or what some trusted partner in the Firm of BARON DE BOOK-WORMS & Co. has not read for him. Verb. sap.
One or two of the especially well-informed dramatic critics who, of course, had seen the original piece Miss Helyett in Paris, asked why the English adapter had taken the trouble to invent nine sisters for the heroine; the nine sisters never being seen and having nothing whatever to do with the plot. Here the well-informed ones were to a certain extent wrong. In the original French piece, Miss Helyett,—whose name, as is suggested by Woman, is evidently a French rendering for "Miss ELLIOT," which M. BOUCHERON "concluded was her Christian name"—speaking of herself, says to her father, "Vous savez bien, mon père, que vous n'avez pas de plus grande admiratrice que votre onzième enfant." And the Reverend SMITHSON tells her, a little later, "J'ai casé toutes tes soeurs très jeunes—" and "Je ne devrais pourtant pas avoir de peine à trouver un onzième gendre."
"Oh, shocking!!"
That is why he is travelling to get an "onzième gendre" for his "onzième enfant." The English adapter relieved Mr. SMITHSON of one of his family, and so Miss Helyett Smithson became Miss Decima Jackson, i.e., the tenth, instead of the eleventh, of the worthy pastor's family. The fact that all her sisters are married, makes single unblessedness a reproach to her. No sort of purpose would have been served by such a wholesale massacre of innocents as the extinction of all Pastor Smithson's, alias Jackson's, ten "pretty chicks at one fell swoop."
Miss NESVILLE, the foreign representative of Miss Decima at the Criterion, is uncommonly childlike and bland; moreover, she sings charmingly; while of Mr. DAVID JAMES as the pastor Jackson it may be said, "Sure such a père was never seen!" The Irishman, Mr. CHAUNCEY OLCOTT, has a mighty purty voice, and gains a hearty encore for a ditty of which the music is not particularly striking. Mr. PERCY REEVE has written words which go glibly to AUDRAN's music, and fit the situations. The piece is capitally played and sung all round; and marvellous is Miss VICTOR as the Spanish mother. The mise-en-scène is far better here than it is in Paris, where this "musical-comedy" is still an attraction.
Dear sir, if you long for the love of a nation,
If you wish to be fêted, applauded, caressed;
If you hope for receptions, and want an ovation,
By the populace cheered, by Town Councils addressed;
I can give you succinctly a certain receipt—
Be detected at once and denounced as a cheat.
It's as easy as lying; you eat all your cake, Sir,
And you have it as well, which was never a sin,
By adding a trifling amount to your stake, Sir,
When the points of the cards show you're certain to win.
You'll be slapped on the back by the "man in the street,"
Who delights to sing pæans in praise of a cheat.
They take the poor thief or the forger to jail, oh,
Where he cleans out his cell and picks oakum all day;
You pose as a martyr and get a cheap halo
Ready-made by the public, with nothing to pay.
Believe me, dear Sir, there is nothing can beat
For triumph and joy the career of a cheat.
EXIT LA CLAQUE.—"A partir d'apres demain samedi," says the Figaro for August 6:—"M. LEMONNIER, le Directeur d'été et l'auteur de Madame la Maréchale, supprime le service de la claque à 'Ambigu." When Madame la Maréchale has finished her run, will the claque be re-admitted to start a new piece? This is snubbing your friends in a time of prosperity. If the claque has the courage of its opinions—but stay, can a claque have any opinions? No: it must follow its leader; and its leader obeys orders. If ever any set of men came into a theatre "with orders," the claque is that set. Poor claque! Summoned in adversity, banished in prosperity, why not do away with it altogether, and trust to public expression of opinion for applause?
NOTICE.—Rejected Communications or Contributions, whether MS., Printed Matter, Drawings, or Pictures of any description, will in no case be returned, not even when accompanied by a Stamped and Addressed Envelope, Cover, or Wrapper. To this rule there will be no exception.
End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or The London Charivari, Vol.
101, August 15, 1891, by Various
*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH ***
***** This file should be named 13491-h.htm or 13491-h.zip *****
This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
https://www.gutenberg.org/1/3/4/9/13491/
Produced by Malcolm Farmer, William Flis, and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team
Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
will be renamed.
Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules,
set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project
Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you
do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is
subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
redistribution.
*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
https://gutenberg.org/license).
Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic works
1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all
the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be
used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few
things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See
paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works. See paragraph 1.E below.
1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the
collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an
individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in
a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check
the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning
the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
States.
1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
copied or distributed:
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
1.E.9.
1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked
to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
Gutenberg-tm License.
1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or
distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
that
- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is
owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments
must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License. You must require such a user to return or
destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
Project Gutenberg-tm works.
- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
of receipt of the work.
- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the
Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
1.F.
1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
your equipment.
1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
DAMAGE.
1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you
received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with
the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy
is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
opportunities to fix the problem.
1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER
WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any
provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists
because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
people in all walks of life.
Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org.
Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
Foundation
The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at
https://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at
809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
[email protected]. Email contact links and up to date contact
information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
page at https://pglaf.org
For additional contact information:
Dr. Gregory B. Newby
Chief Executive and Director
[email protected]
Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation
Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations
($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
status with the IRS.
The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations
where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To
SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
particular state visit https://pglaf.org
While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
approach us with offers to donate.
International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other
ways including including checks, online payments and credit card
donations. To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate
Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works.
Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily
keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
https://www.gutenberg.org
This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.