*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 13563 ***

PUNCH,

OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

VOL. 101.



July 4, 1891.





[Illustration]

       *       *       *       *       *

URBI ET ORBI.

Mr. PUNCH returns thanks for the anticipatory congratulations on the
occasion of his Jubilee, and takes this opportunity of informing his
friends--which means Everybody Everywhere--that the 50th anniversary
of his natal day is July 18 _prox._, which day Mr. PUNCH hereby gives
full and entire permission to the aforesaid Everyone Everywhere to
keep as a whole Holiday, and do in a general way, and to the utmost of
their ability, just exactly what best pleases them.

PUNCH.

       *       *       *       *       *

THE CHANTREY BEQUEST À LA MODE DE LISLE.

    ["Mr. DE LISLE wished the Government to veto any pictures
    purchased under the Chantrey Bequest that did not meet with
    their approval."--_Daily Paper._]

SCENE--_A Studio in the Royal Academy. The_ President _and several_
Members of the Council _waiting arrival of Government to inspect their
most recent purchase._

_President_ (_with assumed joviality_). Well, my dear Colleagues, I
do not think exception _can_ be taken to this composition. Simple and
effective, is it not?

_First Member of Council_ (_gloomily_). Oh, you never know! I think we
ought to have opposed the admission of the Cabinet--what should _they_
know about Art?

_Second Mem_. (_drily_). Enough to make speeches at the annual
dinner--to which they wouldn't come if we snubbed them.

_First Mem_. What of that? I am sure the President is quite eloquent
enough to stand alone.

_Pres_. (_with a graceful bow_). You are most kind. But, hush! here
comes Lord SALISBURY!

_Enter the_ PRIME MINISTER. _Cordial greetings._

_Premier_ (_briskly_). I am sure you will forgive me if I get through
this quickly. (_Looking at picture._) Hm! Yes, very nice; but _did_
EDWARD the Black Prince wear his Garter ribbon in battle? I am sure
I refrain from appearing in mine under similar circumstances. (_To_
Pres.) Do you think the Artist could paint it out?

_Pres_. I feel sure he will do everything in his power to satisfy your
Lordship's artistic instincts.

_Premier_. Just so.

[_Exit_ R. _when enter_ FIRST LORD of the TREASURY, L.

_Pres_. (_greeting new-comer cordially_). Most glad to see you, my
dear Right Hon. Sir!

_First Lord_. Very good indeed of you to say so, but am always anxious
to do my duty to my Queen and Country. (_Gazing at picture._) Hm! Not
bad! But, I say, I do know something of yachting, and that isn't the
way to brace up the marling-spike to the fokesell yard with the main
jibboom three points in a wind with some East in it! If I may venture
a suggestion--hope Artist will paint out the gondola. Ta-ta! A bird in
the hand is worth two in the bush. [_Exit._

_Pres_. Well, well, I do not know what our friend will think of the
matter, but perhaps the Hansom of Venice _is_ a little superfluous.
Why here is the HOME SECRETARY.

[_Enter that august personage--mutual greeting._

_Home Sec_. (_examining picture_). Yes, very nice. Just my idea of
what a historical picture _should_ be! Sea-view very fair indeed,
and I think that the suggestion of the presentation at Court is
also extremely neat. The Black Prince, perhaps, a little near OLIVER
CROMWELL, but then that is a detail that will not challenge particular
attention. I like too the view of Vauxhall Gardens--very good, indeed!
But why should a scene of this great historical importance be laid in
Charing Cross during a labour demonstration?

_Pres_. (_frankly_). I cannot say that I have looked up all my
authorities, but I do not think our friend would allow himself to be
wrong on so important a point.

_Home Sec_. Well, I think it would be in better taste if the Artist
cut out that stampede of police--it is not true to nature! [_Exit._

_Pres_. There _may_ be something in what he says, but I do wish these
amateurs would keep their suggestions to themselves.

_Enter_ FIRST LORD of the ADMIRALTY.

_Pres_. (_cordially_). My dear Lord, delighted to see you--what do you
think of it?

_First Lord_. Hm! Yes! Perhaps! But, I say, what right has the Artist
to put the white ensign on the top of that light-house? It's against
the regulations--they should be flying the Trinity House flag--if
anything. That _must_ come out, you know--it really must! [_Exit._

_Pres_. Silly blunder, but it can be easily remedied. Ah! the
Secretary of State for War! (_Enter that official_) Well, Mr.
STANHOPE, and how do _you_ like the new purchase?

_War Minister_ (_after, a glance at the canvas_). Tol lol. But come, I
say, come; the Iron Duke never wore a hat like _that_! And, I say,
as it isn't raining, why has he put up his umbrella? In the cause of
historical accuracy that should not be allowed. [_Exit._

_Pres_. (_drily_). I am afraid our friend will have enough to do.
(_Enter the remainder of the Cabinet together_). Well, Gentlemen--hope
you approve of our purchase?

_Remainder_ (_together_). Not at all. You should have only bought the
frame! [_Scene closes in on the consideration of this new point._

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: "MANNING THE (BACK-)YARDS."

CHELSEA, JUNE, 1891. FOUR BELL(E)S.]

       *       *       *       *       *

MR. PUNCH EXPLAINS.

    [_Last week Mr. Punch congratulated King HENRY'S "holy shade"
    on the Four-hundredth Anniversary of the Foundation of Eton
    College._]

  To _Mr. Punch's_ friends, who think he blundered,
  In thinking Eton's years were just four hundred,
  And acted quite in error when he paid
  Congratulations to King HENRY'S "shade,"
  A word of explanation now is due,
  To show how what he stated then was true.
  The word is this--that fifty years have now
  Elapsed since _Mr. Punch_ first made his bow;
  And though since then with many friends he's parted,
  Himself he is as young as when he started.
  Just fifty years ago it now appears
  That fair Etona claimed four hundred years.
  Ungallant it had been if one had told her
  That _Mr. Punch_ kept young whilst she grew older!
  Yet if it is indeed the Fourth Centenary
  Or Jubilee the Ninth since holy 'ENERY
  Became the founder of a Royal College--
  Well, _Mr. Punch_ prefers to have no knowledge.
  He only does not know--has never known a
  More worthy toast than "_Floreat Etona!_"

       *       *       *       *       *

THE NEW CRUSADERS.

    ["Kaiser Wilhelm, according to a Berlin Journal, has given his
    consent to a lottery being instituted throughout the Empire
    'for combating the slave trade in Africa.' Tickets to the
    amount of eight millions of marks will be issued, five and
    a half millions of which will be devoted to prizes."--_Daily
    Telegraph Berlin Correspondent_.]

  KNIGHTS-ERRANT of earth's earlier days,
    Might learn from WILHELM KAISER.
  They risked their lives in Paynim frays,
    We moderns have grown wiser.
  'Tis not enough by Big Bazaars
    To buttress Churches tottery;
  We, with the dice "financing" wars,
    Conduct Crusades--by Lottery!

       *       *       *       *       *

LIVE AND LEARN.--Mr. PARKINSON will now probably admit that the
foolish process known as "breaking a butterfly on a wheel" may bring
the breaker woe.

       *       *       *       *       *

SHAKSPEARE AND NORTH, NOT CHRISTOPHER.

[Illustration: C-l-n-l N-rth as _Falstaff_. L-rd C-l-r-dge as _Lord
Chief Justice. Henry the Fourth_, Part II., Act ii., Sc.]

Colonel NORTH is popularly supposed to have been the architect of
his own fortune, but he doesn't seem to have profited much by his
architectural knowledge when applied to house-building. The burly
Colonel--we forget at this moment what regiment is under his
distinguished command--has met many a great personage in his time,
but, like the eminent barbarian who encountered a Christian Archbishop
for the first time--St. Ambrose, we rather think it was, but no
matter--our bold Colonel had to climb down a bit on coming face to
face with the Lord Chief Justice of England. What a cast for a scene
out of _Henry the Fourth! Falstaff_, Colonel NORTH, and My Lord
COLERIDGE for the _Lord Chief Justice_. The scene might be Part II.,
Act ii., Scene 1, when the Lord Chief says to _Sir John_, "You
speak as having power to do wrong; but answer, in the effect of your
reputation, and satisfy the poor woman,"--only for "woman," read
"architect." Curious that the name of GAMBLE should be the pre-surname
of Mister Colonel NORTH'S brother. What's in a name? Yet there's a
good deal in the sound and look of GAMBLE NORTH, especially when up
before the Lord Chief, who must quite recently have got hold of
quite a little library of useful knowledge. Also odd that most of Mr.
NORTH'S money seems to have been made in the South. But "A 1," that
is, the architect, won, and the gallant Mister Colonel, or Colonel
Mister, left the Court, feeling comparatively A-Norther man. Never
mind, even the Millionairey Colonel can't always be lucky.

       *       *       *       *       *

MR. PUNCH'S QUOTATION BOOK.

I.--FOR INFERIOR CHAMPAGNE.

  'How mad and bad and sad it was--
  But then, how it was sweet!"--BROWNING.

II.--FOR MR. GLADSTONE.

              "Et longa canoros
  Dant per colla modos."--VIRGIL.

III.--FOR THE NEW BISHOP OF LICHFIELD.

"Gaiter.--A covering for the leg."--ENGLISH DICTIONARY.

IV.--FOR A TENNIS-PLAYER, IMPRISONED BY BAD WEATHER.

"They also serve who only stand and wait."--MILTON.

       *       *       *       *       *

AT ST. JAMES'S HALL.--Hair PADDY REWSKI is a pianofortist up to the
time and tune of day. Knowing that _L'Enfant Prodigue_ is now all
the go, he keeps himself up to date by performing the Musical Prodigy
Son's, I mean MENDELSSOHN'S "Songs without Words;" and this so
effectively, that the last wordless song he was obliged to repeat, and
much obliged the audience by repeating. Then the good fellar played
_La Campanella_, Which I prefer to _Gentle Zitella_, The Princess
LOUISE, &c., were there, and "&c." was really looking uncommonly well
considering the heat. Bravo, PADDY REWSKI! Ould Ireland for ever!

       *       *       *       *       *

OFF TO MASHERLAND.

(_By Our Own Grandolph._)

(FIRST LETTER--A.)

1.--_From Paddington to the first comma is a comparatively slight
stop._

Left Paddington. Was compelled to leave Paddington, as train started
from that station. "The Great Western!" What boundless ideas are
suggested by this title, &c., &c. (_This part I'll send to Daily
Graphic._)

REASONS FOR THE JOURNEY.

Well, never mind my reasons. I had made up my mind to go. That's
enough. "_Marlbrook s'en va t'en guerre," mais_ as MARLBROOK Junior I
may say, "_Je reviendrai."_ Politics to the winds! or, colloquially,
Politics be blowed! I'm off to TOM TIDDLER'S ground. Nice fellow,
TIDDLER. Knew him years ago. He is now a Limited Company, "TIDDLER &
Co."

[Illustration]

THE COMPOSITION OF THE PARTY.

Well, you know what it was once upon a time. There was A BALFOUR--beg
pardon, should say, THE BALFOUR--and DRUMMY WOLFFY, and _De_ GORSTIBUS
_non disputandum_ ("no arguing with GORST"), and self. As good a
quartette, though I say it who shouldn't, as ever sat down to a
concerted piece, with myself as First Fiddle. But now--"Where am dat
barty now?"--I don't know if I quote correctly; quoting correctly is
not my _forte_. "Dat barty," suggests WOLFF; he was the "barty" of our
party, in the merry days of old. Now--none of 'em here, and I with
my ink-stand before me, a pencil, a pen, note-books galore, and any
amount of foolscap, represent "the composition" of our party. I must
get on with my "compo." Is reminds me of doing a "Theme" at Eton. This
is a holiday task. One, two, three, off!--and away!

ALL ABROAD.

Before I know where we are, so to speak, we have left London, and are
at Lisbon. On the voyage Captain G. WILLIAMS suggests these lines, to
which I append my own translation. BALFOUR rather behind me in Latin
at Eton (I hear by private wire that he admitted as much in his recent
speech at the fourth centenary celebration), and so, perhaps,
couldn't give the translation as easily as I do. Here is the Captain's
reminiscence, and my translation when he isn't looking:--

  "Ille terrarum mihi præter omnes
  Angulus ridet, ubi non Hymetto
  Melle decedunt, viridique certat
                   Bacca Venafro.

  "Vir ubi longum tepidusque præbet
  Jupiter brumas, et amicus Aulon,
  Fertili Baccho nimium Falernis
                   Invidet uvis."

Which translated means:--

He, the Englishman (_Angulus_), beside me (that is, "sitting on deck
by my side") laughs at all people on shore when he is quite certain
(_certat_) that he can't get good tobacco from VENAFER'S (a local
tobacconist). (This) man prefers the long clay pipe, which gets so
soon hot, for, by Jove, you'll burn yourself (_brumas_), and being
a friend of AULON'S ("all on," local joke), he envies those who
can smoke the green tobacco, and doesn't wonder that they go in for
Falernian (_classic metaphor for Cape wine_).

I think that's pretty good for an old Etonian who could give BALFOUR
(the "Four" of the Fourth Party, a four-oar without a steerer) a mile
over any course of VIRGIL or OVID, and beat him easily.

WHERE ARE WE NOW?

[Illustration: The Fifth of November anticipated in Quite Mad-eira.]

_En route_, called on the Bey of Biscay. Found him in amiable
temper--not a bit rough. Lisbon delightful. Chatsworth not in it
with the smallest flower-and-kitchen garden here. Dined at the
"Brag"--short for Braganza. Suddenly inspired--wrote drinking song:--

  _Sancho Panza_
  At Braganza,
    Quaffed no end of cup,
  But _Don Quixit_
  Said "Don't mix it--
    Let us go and sup."

Have composed my own music to this--call it my musical cup-yright.
Shan't publish it, for fear of pirates. No other rates at sea, except
pi-rates, and the rate we're now going at--i.e., two knots an hour,
and ties pay the dealer. Hoorah! I enclose portrait of self after
the above symposium, carried round the town to the air of "_Please
to Remember_," &c. Too Novembery perhaps, but everything too previous
here, and it's summer even in winter, and winter's nowhere, except in
some other places. This is the meteorological or illogical rule, the
"_Summa Lex_." Look at my bearers! These are heads of the people,
eh? Carried round town in triumph, and then back to the ship, which I
_now_ look upon as my native place, or _the land of my berth!_

"ONCE MORE ABOARD THE LUGGER!"

[Illustration]

Here we are, off the Cape of Good Hope. HOPE, as you know, was a
worthy Admiral who discovered this place; he is mentioned by the poet
as having done so; you remember--

  "Hope told a flattering tale;"

but no one believed him. Wish BALFOUR, GORSTY, and WOLFFY were here,
and WOLFFY better than when I left him. First-rate place to pick up
health. Every morning I climb the maintop-gallant, plunge into the
ocean, and out again in the blowing of a Bo'sen's whistle. I dive,
grapple with fresh lobster, bring him up by the tail, and before he
knows where he is, he is boiled and on my table, hot, for breakfast.
Excellent lobster! But how he changes colour at being caught and
boiled! Such a breakfast!

QUITE A TROPICAL SONG!

Something spicy at last. Rather! The "Umbrella-tree" magnificent!
Spreads out in wet weather, and folds up when it's fine. Splendid
specimen of the "Boot-tree" (_Arbor tegumenpedis_), and the quaint
"Blacking-Brush Plant," which is its invariable companion. No time to
spare, however--off again to the _Grantully Castle_, with pockets full
of fruits of all kinds. Must take care not to sit on them in boat.
Lemon squash all very well, but a mixed fruit squash in your tail-coat
pocket not so refreshing.

CAPERING.

There are 50,000 souls and as many bodies in Cape Town. Give you my
word, it's a fact. I may have omitted one or two, but saw most of
'em through telescope before landing. There's an old Town House and
a Castle, and an Excellency for Governor; Museum, Library, with
Manuscripts badly illuminated before the discovery of gas; and as good
a glass of Port (called here "Port Elizabeth," after Miss ELIZABETH
MARTIN, who first took to it, but didn't finish it, thank goodness!)
as you'd wish to get away from the Turf Club. The little boys toss for
halfpence in the street, which impressed me with the wonderful mineral
wealth of South Africa. Having nothing better to do, I joined them,
and won. I lectured them on incautious play, and they said something
in South-African, which the street Arabs here speak to perfection, and
which, I fancy, was both flattering and apologetic. Called on CECIL,
the Colossus of Rhodes, but he was absent at the time. Fine place, the
Cape. "Why," I asked myself, "do our people go to Ramsgate, Southend,
Herne Bay, and even Scarborough, when there is such a splendid seaside
place as this to come to?" But no; because their people have done it
before them, so they'll go on doing; and, unlike yours, truly, they
_won't strike out a line of their own_. [N.B.--I must beg the Editor,
when he gets this, not to strike out any line of mine, _as it's
business_, and means advertisement.]

THE ODD TREK.

[Illustration]

Had a game of single-handed poker with one of the Trekkers, and beat
him hollow. Not at first, of course, out of politeness; but at game
No. 3 he was nowhere. Bless him, I knew a "trek" worth any three of
his. He wanted to go about with me after this, but he became such a
Boer (that's the origin of our word at home signifying "nuisance")
that I cut him, and his pack of cards too. Just off to see the Dutch
races. Shall pick up a little coin over this. You'll excuse my not
writing any more this week, as I have to send a lot of stun to the
_Daily Graphic_, besides cramming and reading up for it far more than
ever I did at Oxford. However, the _jeu d'esprit_ is well worth the
_chandelle_. You don't want much about local politics--do you? If
so, wire's the word, and I'm there. Looking forward to see
_What-can-the-Matter-be-Land_, also SAM BEST, and other old friends,
with whose names, at least, the papers have already made you familiar.
Must be off now, as I've an interview with the High Commissioner, who
does all my business for me at the native races. Obliged to give him
twenty per cent. on commission, and that, of course, is the reason
why he has earned the proud title of "High," which he now deservedly
enjoys. "How's that for High?" And the answer is, "Fifteen per cent.
on ordinary business, and twenty per cent. for a win." Newmarket not
in it with this place. So for the present, "Adoo, adoo!" Mind you,
I've got my eyes open, and this is my tip for all the country out
here, "White to win in a few moves," [to which I shall soon be able
to put you up], and "Black not to win anyhow." Very hot out here; dry
work, scribbling; but luckily in the Orange Free State that delicious
fruit can be had for the asking. Tell GORSTY that, and WOLFFY can use
the information, if he likes, till I return. _Au revoir!_ Yours ever,

[Illustration: Transcriber's Note: "Grandolph, the Explorer."
rendered in script.]

       *       *       *       *       *

QUEER QUERIES.--AUTHORSHIP.--I should be glad to know the name of
a Publisher of repute who would be likely to purchase for £1000 a
first-rate Sensational Novel? I have only written one chapter so
far, but I have the plot in my head, and I think a really able and
energetic Publisher would be able to judge of the work from a
small specimen. Which was the Firm that gave GEORGE ELIOT £5000 for
_Middlemarch?_ I should like to go to them.--NO JUGGINS.

       *       *       *       *       *

LEAVES FROM A CANDIDATE'S DIARY.

_Billsbury, Tuesday, 3rd June._--We had an immense meeting here last
night, just to keep the enthusiasm going. We had done our best to
got a Cabinet Minister to come down, but they all had some excuse
or other, and we had to content ourselves with CARDEW, who, being an
Undersecretary, is the next best thing to the genuine Cabinet rose.
VULLIAMY came too. A most extraordinary chap that. Instead of being
offended at what I did with reference to his proposals for wholesale
illegality, he merely delivered his soul of what he called "a gentle
protest," and declared himself ready to do all he could to help me
to counteract the effects of my own obstinacy. There was considerable
difficulty, as there always is, in apportioning the various speeches,
so as not to leave any of the important local chiefs out of
the proceedings. First of all TOLLAND, as Chairman, opened the
proceedings. Then came a vote of confidence in Her Majesty's
Government, proposed by Colonel CHORKLE, and seconded by VULLIAMY. To
this CARDEW responded.

[Illustration: Free and Independent Elector.]

Then MOFFAT proposed, and JERRAM seconded, a vote of confidence in me,
to which, of course, I responded. Old DICKY DIKES proposed a vote of
thanks to the Chairman. This was seconded by BLISSOP, and after a
few cordial words from TOLLAND, the gathering broke up. On the
whole, everything went off extremely well. VULLIAMY'S speech was a
masterpiece. He said:--

"I turn from the larger questions of public policy to the private
concerns of the borough of Billsbury. On previous occasions I have had
an opportunity of saying what I think of your Candidate, Mr. PATTLE. I
have known him for years. Ever since I first met him, I have been more
and more struck by the extraordinary intelligent interest he takes in
political matters. His views are enlightened, his judgment is sound,
and his eloquence is of so high an order as to ensure to him a
brilliant success in the House he is destined to adorn. But what
chiefly commends him to my regard and to yours, is the honourable
uprightness of his character. The contest here will be a fierce and
determined one; but, thank heaven, with such a Candidate as yours, it
will be kept free from all personal bitterness, and will be conducted
in such a way that no breath of suspicion will rest on the absolute
and scrupulous legality of everything that may be done. The conscience
of the people demands this of the candidates who may appeal to its
suffrages, and, speaking as an old man, I can only say that I rejoice
to see those who are yet young bearing themselves so honourably,
and maintaining the great traditions which have made of England the
greatest and proudest nation in the world, and have advanced Billsbury
to a position of glorious prosperity which other towns strive in vain
to approach."

This from VULLIAMY was splendid, considering that if I had followed
his advice, I should have steeped myself in illegality. But the cheers
that greeted the speech were deafening, the most enthusiastic coming
from MOFFAT, BLISSOP, and JERRAM, who had urged my compliance with
VULLIAMY'S suggestions.

_Wednesday, June 4th._--The _Meteor_ is furious about our meeting
yesterday. It says, in a leader:--"Do these gentlemen suppose that the
froth blown by them over the addle-pates who cheered their speeches is
likely to shake sir THOMAS CHUBSON from the secure position in which
the affection of the Billsbury public has enthroned him? We have
nothing to say against Mr. PATTLE except this, that his youth,
combined with the ridiculous immaturity of his views, absolutely
disqualifies him for the responsible post to which his foolish
ambition aspires. Let him go back to the briefs, which the vivid
imagination of his supporters pictures as crowding his table in the
Temple. Let him join debating societies, and learn how to speak in
public; let him eat, drink, and be merry in London; let him, in fact,
do anything except run the head which flattery has turned against the
sturdy stone of Billsbury Liberalism. We give him this advice in no
unfriendly spirit. Let him be wise in time, and take it."

The _Guardian_ is of course jubilant. "Never," it says, "has it been
our lot to hear the magnificent principles of our cause expounded with
an eloquence so convincing. Mr. CARDEW spoke, as he always does, with
that sturdy good sense which has not only made him a redoubtable foe
in the House of Commons, but has endeared his name to the masses of
the English people. Mr. VULLIAMY again showed himself a master of the
great questions of finance, and held his audience enthralled while
he contrasted the futile extravagance of Liberal Governments with the
wise, but generous economies, established by those who now hold the
reins of Government. Our popular and eloquent young Candidate, Mr.
PATTLE, showed himself not unworthy to take his place side by side
with the two great men we have mentioned upon the Government benches.
Rarely has any meeting displayed greater enthusiasm and unanimity. Our
wretched opponents may well hide their diminished heads. Another nail
has been struck into the coffin of the CHUBSONS, and the rest of the
gang whom the unfortunate apathy of the Conservatives, at the last
election, permitted to rise to high places in Billsbury politics. They
have earned their doom. _Sic semper tyrannis!_"

There's a curious paragraph in a little weekly sort of Society rag
published in Billsbury. It says:--"Mr. PATTLE has prolonged his stay
in Billsbury for some time. Can it _all_ be politics? I say nothing.
But others have been heard to whisper nothings which are sweet.
What price bonnets?" I suppose the idiot means to hint that there's
something between me and Miss PENFOLD? Hope MARY won't hear of this
rubbish.

       *       *       *       *       *

MODERN TYPES.

(_By Mr. Punch's Own Type Writer._)

NO. XXVI.--THE LADY SHOPKEEPER.

Ladies who, in order to correct the inequalities of fortune, or to
counteract a spendthrift husband, have betaken themselves to the
keeping of shops, form a large and rapidly-increasing body. In times
so ancient as to be scarcely within the memory of a juvenile dowager,
it was held by the high dry exponents of aristocratic privilege that
to touch trade, even when it proffered a bag of money in a well-gloved
hand, was to be defiled beyond the restoring power of a Belgravian
Duchess. To be sure, even the highest and the driest of these censors
contrived to close an indulgent eye when a moneyless scion of nobility
sought to prop his tottering house by rebuilding it upon a commercial
foundation, and cementing it with the dower of a "tradesman's"
daughter. But if these blameless ones, whose exclusive dust has long
since been consigned to family vaults with appropriate inscriptions,
could have foreseen the dreadful inroads of the trading spirit, if
in a moment of prophetic rapture they could have watched the painful
decay of caste which permits a lady to dabble in bonnets, to toy with
the making of fancy frames, to cut dresses almost like a dressmaker,
and, horror of horrors, to send in bills to her customers, surely
they would have refrained from the tomb in order to stem the tide of
advancing demoralisation. But they are dead, and we who remain are
left to deal as best we may with the uncompromising spirit of the age.

[Illustration]

It is absolutely essential to the proper production of a Lady
Shopkeeper that she should have been at one time both affluent and
socially distinguished. If to these qualities she can add the supreme
advantage of good looks and a modest demeanour, her career is certain
to be a prosperous and a rapid one. If, finally, she has been mated
to a husband who, having long ago spent his own cash, contrives in
a short time to run a best on record through hers, if he is a good
fellow of a sort, with a capacity for making friends which is as large
as his generosity in staking money, she may be sure that no element
will be wanting to her success. It is of course unnecessary that she
should have served any apprenticeship to the trade that she ultimately
adopts. When, after some glittering seasons of horses and footmen
and brilliant parties, the crash comes upon the little household, her
friends will be called into council. Some will recommend a retired
life in a distant suburb, where it is currently reported that £250 a
year may be made to play the part of £2,000 in the heart of May Fair.
Others will hint that governesses have been known, after years of
painful labour, to lay by a sufficiency for a short old age; others,
again, will dive into the storehouse of their reminiscences, in order
to produce for inspection the well-known example of a colonel and
his wife, who defied both the fates and the rheumatism in the modest
_pension_ of a Continental watering-place. All these suggestions,
however, are eventually put aside in favour of the advice that a
shop should be started, a _nom de commerce_ adopted, and a circle of
friendly customers be acquired by discreet advertisement. After these
matters have been decided, but not till then, it becomes necessary
to determine to what special branch the talents of the prospective
Shopkeeper are to be devoted. At last even this is accomplished,
and in a few months more the world of fashion may learn by private
circular or public paragraph, that a new competitor for its favours
has been launched into commercial activity under a sweetly symbolical
name.

After this everything depends upon the Lady herself. At first
everything will go swimmingly. Friends will rally round her, and she
may perhaps discover with a touching surprise that the staunchest and
truest are those of whom, in her days of brilliant prosperity, she
thought the least. But a _succès d'estime_ is soon exhausted. Unless
she conducts her business on purely business lines, delivers her
goods when they are wanted, and, for her own protection, sends in her
accounts as they fall due, and looks carefully after their payment,
her customers and her profits will fall away. But if she attends
strictly to business herself, or engages a good business woman to
assist her, and orders her affairs in accordance with the dictates of
a proper self-interest, she is almost certain to do well, and to reap
the reward of those who face the world without flinching, and fight
the battle of life sturdily and with an honest purpose. Some painful
moments may fall to her lot. It may be that in a crowded assemblage
of wealth and fashion she may see one of her masterpieces in the
dress-making art, torn into shreds under the clumsy heel of a Cabinet
Minister, or a Duchess may speak unkindly in her hearing of her latest
devices in floral decoration. Or, some brainless nincompoop may,
in his ignorance of her profession, cast aspersions on the general
character and behaviour of all who keep shops. And it may be that
friends, after a prolonged period of non-payment, will desert her, and
speak ill of her business. But she will be able to console herself for
those and similar bitternesses by the knowledge that on the whole the
world honours those who battle against ill-fortune without complaint
far above the needy crowd of spongers who strive to batten without
effort on the crumbs that fall from the tables of the rich.

       *       *       *       *       *


ROBERT ON THE HEMPERER'S VISIT TO THE CITY.

[Illustration]

Well, we are jest a going for to have a fine time of it in the old
Citty, we are! On the werry tenth of next month, which this year
happens for to be Jewly, we are a going for to receive to Lunshon,
quite in a frendly way, the Hemperer and the Hempress of all GERMANY,
not forgitting Hellygoland which we so kindly guv 'em larst year, and,
in addishun, about twenty other princes and princesses from differing
forren parts, as has all agreed for to cum at the same time to do
'em honour, and as if that wasn't quite enuff for one day, the noble
Prince of WHALES, and the butiful Princess of WHALES, and all the
Royal Family, will be werry much "hall there" for to receeve 'em and
shew 'em praps the luvlyest site in Urope, wiz., the butiful Gildhall
made into a bower of roses, and covered with reel dammarsk tablecloths
from top to bottom, and them all covered with such a fairy-like
Lunshon as makes my pore old mouth water ony jest to think upon!
There's one thing as I'm afraid as His Himperial Madjesty will be
werry angry at, and that is, as they ain't a going for to make him
free of the Citty, which is one of them grate honners as all the
celibryties of the World pines for. BROWN says it ain't _commy fo_, as
the French says, but BROWN don't know everythink, tho' he is a trying
his werry best to learn a few German words in case the Hemperer asks
him for sumthink to eat, such as a little sour krowt. The best of the
fun is that he acshally spells sour, _sauer!_ I ain't not a pertickler
good speller myself, but I reely shoud be artily ashamed of sich a
blunder as that.

The pore Committee, as has to see to hewerythink, begins for to look
jest a little pail and worryed--and who can wunder at it, for I'm told
as they is amost torn to peaces with applications for Tickets, tho
they ony has two a-peace for their friends, and won't have one for
theirselves, but will have to walk about all the time of the
Lunch, with their long sticks of office, to see as ewerybody xcept
theirselves is nice and cumferal, and got plenty to eat and drink.
And, torking of drink, jest reminds me of the tasting Committee, pore
fellers! who has got for to go to all the werry best Wine sellers in
the Citty, to taste all their werry best wines, and decide which,
of every kind and description, they shall select for their himperial
royal gests. Why it's amost enuff to give 'em all hedakes for the rest
of their nateral lives.

I don't know of any further arrangements as is quite finally settled,
so praps I may have jest a few lines to add nex week.

ROBERT.

       *       *       *       *       *

QUEER QUERIES.--A FIRST READING.--Would some person kindly inform
me of a good Recitation for a Smoking Concert? I have been asked to
recite "something telling" after the annual banquet of a Club of local
Licensed Victuallers. I am thinking of the First Book of _Paradise
Lost_. Or would parts of _The Excursion_ be more likely to create
a _furore_? I have never recited in public before, and feel rather
doubtful of my ability to "hold" the Victuallers.--WILLING TO OBLIGE.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: GENTLE SATIRE.

"I SAY, BILL, LOOK 'ERE! 'ERE'S A OLD COVE OUT RECORD-BREAKING!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

"THE DILEMMA."

(_An old Irish Story newly applied._)

    ["On which horn of the dilemma will the Gladstonians elect
    to stand?"--_Mr. Chamberlain, in his controversy with Sir
    W. Harcourt on the place of Home Rule in the Gladstonian
    programme._]

_Faithful Unionist Sentry, loquitur_:--

  Faith! yes, a dilemma, no doubt, is _the_ thing
    To stagger Big Bounce, in a fashion Socratic.
  I fancy I know now to plant a sharp sting,
    The success of my bayonet-play is emphatic.
  Remember a picture I once chanced to see,
    A Pompeian sentinel posed at a portal,
  And "faithful to death" though fire threatened. That's Me!
    As my country's defender, my fame is immortal.

  Yes, the Sentinel's _rôle_ suits my style passing well;
    The enemy won't find me napping or nodding.
  But what I _most_ like as I do sentry spell,
    Is the fine opportunity offered for--prodding!
  I watch like a lynx, as a sentry should do,
    With an eye like a hawk, and a smile sweet as syrup;
  But when there's a chance for 'a thrust--whirraroo!
    My bayonet-point is agog for a stir up!
  JOE, the Sentry, you know, like _Joe Bagstock_, is sly,
    Ay, "devilish sly,"--if I may speak profanely.
  That swashbuckler H-RC-RT now, swaggering there--why,
    The big burly Bobadil's acting insanely.
  I _do_ like to draw him. These ramparts are mine,
    But because we're old comrades he cheeks me. "Woa, EMMA!"
  As cads used to shout. I extremely incline
    To tickle him up with--a two-horned Dilemma!

  "Well, WILLIAM, what cheer?" He is struggling out there
    With a--Snark; 'tis a Boojum which shortly may vanish.
  Like _Frankenstein's_, his is a Monster, I fear,
    He would--did he dare--be delighted to banish.
  That big "Home-Rule" Bogey, my Bobadil, seems
    A "handful" with which you are destined to struggle,
  Which darkens your days as it haunts all your dreams;
    Which you cannot get rid of by force or by juggle.

  _You've got him, you say?_ Well, then, bring him along!
    Ha! ha! Says _"he can't!"_ That's exceedingly funny!
  It _is_ very hard when your "captive"'s so strong,
    He won't do your bidding for love or for money.
  Like SAMSON he leads his DELILAH a dance.
    Like PAT'S prisoner--all know the old Irish story--
  He won't give his captor a ghost of a chance.
    Such "prisoners" _do_ mar their conqueror's glory.

  _"Well, leave him behind, then, and come on alone!"_--
    Eh! "Captive won't _let_ you?" That's just what I told you!
  Your trophy, "Home Rule," has an incubus grown;
    He's got _you_, my friend, and, my faith, he will _hold_ you.
  'Tis PADDY'S Dilemma all over again,
    Only you're the true PAT. You can't take it _or_ leave it.
  Your triumph was futile, your struggles are vain;
    Mine's the Sentinel's eye, and you cannot deceive it.

[_Left chortling, but still "on duty."_

       *       *       *       *       *

"NOTHING SUCCEEDS LIKE"-- SUCCESSION?

"Supply--Army Estimates."

  General FRASER--not a _phraser_ clearly--
  Military grumbling vents sincerely;
  House won't listen, and the cruel _Times_
  Summarised his tale of woes and crimes,
  As--great CÆSAR!--"a few observations."
  TANNER, always great on such occasions,
  Intimates that it is his impression
  Soldiers are "succeeding in succession"
  In the interest of more Expense.
  Well, "economists" make stir immense,
  But in spite of most Draconic manner,
  Hardly ever seem to _save_--a "tanner."
  So that one is prone to think indeed,
  In succession they do _not_--"succeed!"

       *       *       *       *       *

"A LEGGE UP."--The new Bishop of LICHFIELD.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: "THE DILEMMA."

(_NEW ADAPTATION OF AN OLD IRISH STORY_.)

H-RC-RT. "HILLO, JOE! I'VE GOT HIM!"

CH-MB-RL-N. "ALL RIGHT; BRING HIM ALONG THEN!"

H-RC-RT. "BUT HE _WON'T COME!_"

CH-MB-RL-N. "THEN LEAVE HIM, AND COME AWAY!"

H-RC-RT. "BUT _HE WON'T LET ME!!!_"]

       *       *       *       *       *

VOCES POPULI.

DILATORY DINNERS.

SCENE--_The Grounds of a certain Exhibition. On this particular
evening, there has been a slight hitch in the culinary arrangements,
and the relations between the Chef and the Waiters are apparently
strained. Enter an Egotistic Amphitryon, followed by a meek and
youthful Guest._

_The Egotistic Amphitryon_ (_concluding an harangue_). Well, all
_I_'ve got to say is I've been here half-an-hour--(_with a bitter
sense of the anomaly of the situation_)--waiting about for _You!!_
(_They seat themselves at one of the little tables under the
verandah._) Oh, you're going to sit _that_ side, are you? It's all the
same to me, except that there's a confounded draught here which--well,
you're young, and these things don't affect you--or oughtn't to.
(_They exchange sides._) We shall have to hurry our dinner now, if we
mean to hear anything of the music. That was the reason I expressly
told you seven sharp. Here, Waiter! (Waiter _presents a carte, and
stands by with a proud humility._) Now, what are you going to have?
(_To_ Guest.) You don't mind? I hate to hear a man say he doesn't care
what he eats--he _ought_ to care, he _must_ care. What do you say
to this--"Potage Bisque d'écrivisses; Saumon Sauce Hollandaise;
Brimborions de veau farcis à l'imprévu; Ducklings and green peas; New
Potatoes; Salad"? Simple and, ah, satisfying. (_To_ Waiter.) Let us
have that as sharp as you can; do you hear?

[Illustration]

_Waiter_. Quick? Yes, I dell zem. [_He hurries off._

_The E.A._ Hang the fellow, he's forgotten the wine! (_To_ Guest.)
What will you drink?

_The Guest_ (_thinks it will look greedy if he suggests champagne_).
Oh--er--whatever _you're_ going to drink.

_The E.A._ Well, I'm going to have a glass of champagne myself. I want
it after all this worry. But if you prefer beer (_considerately_), say
so. (_The_ Guest, _in a spirit of propitiation, prefers beer._) Well,
we could have managed a bottle of Pommery between us, and it's never
so good to my mind in the pints--but please yourself, of course.
[_The_ Guest _feels that his moderation has missed fire, but dares
not retract; they sit in silence for some time, without anything of
importance happening, except that a strange Waiter swoops down and
carries away their bread-basket._

_A Meek Man_ (_at an adjoining table, who, probably for family
reasons, is entertaining his Sister-in-law, a lady with an aquiline
nose and remarkably thick eyebrows._) You know, HORATIA, I call this
sort of thing very jolly, having dinner like this in the fresh air,
eh? [_He rubs his hands under the table._

_Horatia_ (_acidly_). It may be so, AUGUSTUS, when we _do_ have it. At
present we have been sitting here fifteen minutes, and had nothing but
fresh air and small flies, and, as I don't pretend to be a Chameleon
myself, why-- [_She fans herself vigorously._

_Augustus_. Well, you know, my dear, we were warned that the trout
_en papillotes_ might take some little time. I suppose (_with mild
Jocularity_)--it's a fashionable fish--wants to come in with a "little
head sunning over with curls," as the poet says.

_Horatia_. Please don't make jokes of that sort--unless you wish to
destroy the little appetite I have left!

_Augustus_ (_penitently_). Never mind--I won't do it again. Here 's
our Waiter at last. _Now_ we're all right! [_The_ Waiter _puts a dish
down upon another table, and advances with the air of a family friend
who brings bad tidings._

_Horatia_. Will you kindly let us have that trout at once?

_The Waiter_ (_bending down to_ AUGUSTUS _with pity and sympathy_).
Fery sôry to dell you, esbecially after keebin you so long vaiting,
bot (_thinks how he can break it most gently_) ve haf zo many beople
hier to-day, and zey haf shust dold me in ze gitchen zere is no more
drout. Zis hote vedder ze drout, he vill nod stay!

_Augustus_ (_mildly_). No, of course not--well, let me see, now, what
can you--?

_The E.A._ Here, you Kellner, come here, can't you? What the--

_Waiter_ (_to_ AUGUSTUS). Von minute. I gom back bresently. (_To_
E.A.) You vant your pill, Sir, yes?

_The E.A._ (_exploding_). My bill! Confound it! I want something to
eat first. When is that Bisque coming?

_Waiter_. Ach, peg your bardon, ve haf peen so pusy all day. Your
Bisque vill pe retty diregly. I go to vetch him. [_He goes._

_Horatia_. Now we're farther off from getting any food than ever! I
suppose you mean to do _something_, AUGUSTUS?

_Augustus_. Of course--certainly. I shall speak very strongly.
(_Bleating_.) Waiter!

_Horatia_ (_with scorn_). _Do_ you imagine they will pay the least
attention to a noise like a sixpenny toy? Lot them see you _insist_
upon being obeyed.

_Augustus_. I am--I mean, I will--I am very much annoyed.
(_Fiercely_.) Wa-ai-ter!

_A Stern Waiter_ (_appearing suddenly_.) You vant somsing, Sir?

_Augustus_ (_apologetically_). Yes; we should--er--like something to
eat--anything--so long as you can bring it at once, if you don't mind.
"We--this Lady is rather in a hurry, and we've waited some little time
already, you see.

_The Waiter_. Peg your bardon, zis is nod my daple. I send your
Vaiter. [_He vanishes._

_The E.A_. Scandalous! over twenty minutes we've been here! Ha! at
last! (_A_ Waiter _appears with a tureen, which he uncovers._) Here,
what do you call _this?_

_Waiter_. Groûte au Bot--you order him, yes? No? I dake him away! [_He
whisks it away, to the chagrin of_ Guest, _who thought it smelt nice._

The E.A_. I ordered Bisque--where is it? and I want some wine, too--a
pint of Pommery '84, and a small lager. If they're not here very soon,
I'll--

_The Guest_ (_trying to make the best of things_). Nothing for it but
patience, I suppose.

_The E.A._ (_with intention_). I had very little of _that_ left before
I sat down, I can tell you!

_A Sarcastic and Solitary Diner._ Waiter, could you spare me one
moment of your valuable time? (_The_ Waiter _halts irresolutely._) It
is so long since I had the pleasure of speaking to you, that you may
possibly have forgotten that about three-quarters of an hour ago I
ventured to express a preference for an Entrecôte aux pommes de terre
with a half-bottle of Beaune. Could you give me any idea how much
longer those rare dainties may take in preparing, and in the meantime
enable me to support the pangs of starvation by procuring me the
favour of a penny roll, if I am not trespassing too much upon your
good-nature? [_The_ Waiter, _in a state of extreme mystification and
alarm, departs to inform the_ Manager.

_The E.A.'s Waiter_ (_reappearing with a small plated bowl, champagne
bottle and glass of lager._) I regred fery moch to haf to dell you
zat zere is only shust enough Bisque for von berson. [_He bows with
well-bred concern._

_The E.A_. Confound it all! (_To_ Guest.) Here, _you'd_ better take
this, now it's here. Afraid of it, eh? Well, Bisque _is_ apt to
disagree with some people. (_To_ Waiter.) Give it to me, and bring
this gentleman some gravy soup, or whatever else you have ready. (_He
busies himself with his Bisque, while the_ Guest, _in pure absence
of mind, drinks the champagne with which the_ Waiter _has filled his
glass._) Here, what are you doing? _I_ didn't order lager. (_Perceives
the mistake_.) Oh, you've changed your mind, have you? (_To_ Guest.)
All right, of course, only it's a pity you couldn't say so at once.
(_To_ W.) Another pint of Pommery, and take this lager stuff away.
(_Exit_ W.; _the unfortunate_ Guest, _in attempting to pass the
bottle, contrives to decant it into his host's soup._) Hullo, what
the--there--(_controlling himself_). You might have left me the
_soup_, at all events! Well--well--it's no use saying any more about
it. I suppose I shall get something to eat some day.

[_General tumult from several tables; appeals to the_ Waiters, _who
lose their heads and upbraid one another in their own tongue_;
HORATIA _threatens bitterly to go in search of buns and lemonade at
a Refreshment Bar. Sudden and timely appearance of energetic Manager;
explanations, apologies, promises. Magic and instantaneous production
of everybody's dinner. Appetite and anger appeased, as Scene closes
in._

N.B.--_Mr. Punch_ wishes it to be understood that the above sketch
is not intended as a reflection upon any of the deservedly popular
restaurants existing at present in either exhibition.

       *       *       *       *       *

LEGAL AND MILITARY.--"Ancient Lights."--Retired Lancers.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: PARLIAMENTARY NIGHT-BIRDS.]

       *       *       *       *       *

MEDICINAL MUSIC.

(_A Growl from a "Quiet Street."_)

    ["There is a disposition just now to revive discussion upon
    a very old subject, namely the curative influence of Music in
    cases of mental and bodily disease."--_Daily Telegraph_.]

  Curative Music? Just as well expect
    An Influenza-cure from Demogorgon!
  Some dolts there be, no doubt, who would detect
    Anodyne influence in a barrel-organ;
  A febrifuge in a flat German Band,
    A prophylactic in a street-piano!
  Some quackery a man _can_ understand,
    But Music I'll _not_ take, even _cum grano_.
  I don't believe what classic noodles say,
    That Music stopped the hæmorrhage of ULYSSES;
  That CATO'S stiffened joints attained free play
    From harmony of sounds. Such "rot" sense hisses.
  I'd just as soon believe the Theban walls
    Were twangled into place by young Amphion.
  Bah! Minds made sane by Music's scrapes and squalls?
    Not _mine_, though the lyre-thrumber were Arion.
  Drums, trumpets, fiddles, organs--_all_ are bad.
    And vocal fireworks are far worse than vanity.
  Stop, though! _I_'m sane, and they just drive me mad;
    So Music _may_ drive _idiots_ into sanity!

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: AT A SMOKING CONCERT.

_Distinguished Amateur_ (_with good Method but small Voice, suddenly
jumping up from Piano_). "LOOK HERE, ALGY. I DO CALL IT BEASTLY BAD
FORM FOR YOU AND SIKES TO TALK WHEN I'M SINGING!"

_Algy_. "ALL RIGHT, OLD MAN--AWFULLY SORRY--DIDN'T KNOW YOU _WERE_
SINGING, YOU KNOW!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.

EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M.P.

_House of Commons, Tuesday, June 23_, 12'15 A.M.--House just
adjourned; a little dazed by shock of narrow escape from grievous
danger. Been at it through greater part of night debating Second
Reading of Education Bill. JULIUS 'ANNIBAL PICTON led off with speech
of fiery eloquence. The SQUIRE of MALWOOD declares he never listens to
J.A.P. without an odd feeling that there have been misfits. Both his
voice and his gestures are, he says, too large for him. But that,
as ALGERNON BORTHWICK shrewdly points out, is professional jealousy
supervening on the arrogance of excessive stature. The SQUIRE, though
not lacking in moods of generosity, cannot abear a rival in the
oratorical field. Had things turned out differently to-night, he might
have enjoyed the advantage of addressing House at this favourable
hour, whilst its withers were yet unwrung.

[Illustration: Sir Algernon.]

But JULIUS 'ANNIBAL has not studied his great ancestor's strategy for
nothing. As soon as Second Reading of Education Bill appeared on the
paper, he romped in, and put down Amendment. Needn't move it; didn't
mean to move it; doesn't move it; but he gets first place in principal
Debate of Session, and shows himself worthy of it by the luminous
argument and almost passionate eloquence of his oration.

It wasn't that the House was disturbed about. The particular incident
arose a quarter of an hour before midnight, when CRANBORNE suddenly
got up and moved Adjournment of Debate. J.A. had bowled him and others
over in the earlier part of the Sitting; but there was a second night,
and the HOPE of HATFIELD determined he would collar that. Had the
Motion for Adjournment been accepted, he would, in accordance with
usage, have opened the ball when the House met again once more, fresh,
and in the mood to listen. But JOKIM objected to losing the quarter of
an hour.

"We can," he said, pleasantly, "bear another speech."

All right; CRANBORNE only a private Member, and modest withal; not the
person to argue with his pastors and masters. So resumed his seat. If
they wanted to use up the time, let some one else speak through the
quarter of an hour. Had things been so left, the listening Senate and
the waiting world would never have heard CRANBORNE in this Debate. As
the SPEAKER gently pointed out to him, having moved the Amendment he
had exhausted his privilege of speaking. He might sustain his thesis
at any length, or, being on his legs, might continue the Debate
without insisting on his Motion for the Adjournment. But he must speak
now, or for ever hold his tongue as far as the Debate was concerned.
This was awkward; but no help for it; so CRANBORNE plunged in and
talked up to midnight, when the Debate stood adjourned.

_Business done_.--Second Reading of Education Bill moved.

_Tuesday_.--Another night with Education Bill. Position rather
peculiar; everyone, or nearly everyone, in state of frantic adulation
of the measure; and yet everyone passing the cradle in which the
infant slumbers gives it a sly pinch. Here and there a Ministerialist
gets up and honestly denounces a Bill embodying principle which
Conservatives been led for generations to denounce. BARTLEY last night
made capital speech in this sense. To-night LAWRENCE bluntly declares
his regret that good Tories should be asked to support principles
which they, under their present Leaders, violently opposed at General
Election of 1885. ADDISON blandly and persuasively attempts to stem
this growing torrent of discontent. "The change of opinion on this
side of the House," he said, hitching on one side an imaginary wig,
clutching at an imperceptible gown, and turning over the pages of an
impalpable brief, "is owing to the fact that circumstances and times
have altered. It is the duty of statesmen,"--and here ADDISON,
like another Fat Boy known to history, wisibly swelled,--"to adapt
themselves to the necessities of the case."

JENNINGS, speaking from the Bench immediately behind ADDISON, had
no patience with this kind of argument. "Six years I've sat in this
House, Mr. SPEAKER," he said, "and during that time have seen measures
which we Conservatives have been encouraged, almost instructed, to
denounce, cordially received by our Leaders and passed into law. For
my part, I cannot flourish on this diet of broken pledges. One might
eat of it now and then, but when continually invited to the same dish,
it becomes a little monotonous."

OLD MORALITY happily out of the way of hearing all this. Gone off,
and wisely left no address. People walking along Downing Street, find
written over the door at the Treasury, "Back in Ten Minutes." That's
all; neither date nor hour specified. Ten minutes roll on, and OLD
MORALITY comes not. But he sometimes communicates with his most
intimate friends. Have this morning a note from him.

"I send these few lines," he writes, "hoping they will find you well
as they leave me at present. Talking about lines, mine have fallen in
pleasanter places than yours, or JOKIM'S chance to be just now. Some
people are inclined to deny me the faculty of humour. But I think the
merry-go-rounder of leaving JOKIM in charge of the Free Education Bill
is pretty well for a beginner. Everything must have a commencement.
Now I've started I may in time become a regular JOSEPH MILLER. Excuse
my not mentioning my present address, and be sure that wherever I am,
I am animated solely by desire to do my duty to Queen and Country,
and to meet the convenience of Hon. Gentlemen in whatever part of the
House they may sit. If you want to write to me, address 'Mr. SMITH,
England.' I have reason to believe that so perfect is the machinery of
the Post Office under the direction of my Right Hon. friend, that the
missive thus directed will not fail to reach its destination."

_Business done_.--On Second Reading of Education Bill.

_Thursday_.--An old acquaintance looked in at Lobby to-night. When
he was here, we used to call him LONG LAWRENCE. Now he is one of Her
MAJESTY'S Judges, and we must behave to him as such.

"How're you getting on here, TOBY?" he said, just as friendly as if he
were still at the Bar.

"As your Ludship pleases," I replied, too old a Parliamentary Hand to
be inveigled into familiarity by his unassuming manner.

Fact is, as, on his further entreaty, I proceeded to explain to the
learned Judge, we are getting on very well indeed. Truce been called
in party conflict, and is strictly observed. Mr. G. is absent on sick
leave--not keeping out of the way of Education Bill, as some will have
it. OLD MORALITY back to-night; came down in a penny 'bus, in final
effort to elude discovery of his place of recent retreat. PARNELL also
absent; news comes to-night that his business is matrimonial; graphic
accounts current of his expedition "in a one-horse vehicle" from
Brighton to Steyning.

"If," says his Ludship, fresh from a Criminal Court, "he had been
committing, a burglary, and was getting off with the loot in the
one-horse O'Shay, he could not have taken fuller precautions to evade
pursuit."

[Illustration: Long Lawrence.]

At first some doubt as to truth of story. Been rumoured often before.
Then comes, in special edition of evening paper, the detail: "The
ceremony being concluded, Mr. and Mrs. PARNELL drove away in the
direction of Bramber, Mrs. PARNELL taking the whip and reins."

"Ah!" said DICK POWER, "that's KITTY, and no mistake. She always takes
the whip and reins. Bet you three to one the trick's done."

SQUIRE of MALWOOD faithful at his post, but he, too, observant of the
Truce. Everyone tired to death of dullest Session ever lived through,
and chiefly anxious to bring it to an end.

_Business done_.--In Committee of Supply.

_Friday_.--In Lords to-night, Irish Land Purchase Bill read Second
Time, after series of essays delivered by half dozen Peers. Point of
honour not to take less than one hour in delivery. DERBY brought
down his contribution nicely written out on quarter sheets. Whilst
ASHBOURNE declaiming, DERBY seized opportunity to read his speech
over to himself. This all very well if he had strictly carried out
intention, but, when he grew so interested in it as to mumble passages
in an audible voice, situation grew embarrassing. At last KIMBERLEY,
who sat near, gently nudged him. "One at a time, my dear DERBY," he
whispered. "We know you're accustomed to dual action. DARBY and JOAN,
you know; but won't do here."

DERBY blushed, and thrust manuscript in pocket till his turn came,
when he had the pleasure of reading it aloud.

_Business done_.--Irish Land Bill through Lords; Public Health Bill in
Commons.

       *       *       *       *       *

MISS NOMER.

[Illustration: Tree in _Hamlet_.]

Now why was _The Dancing Girl_ ever called _The Dancing Girl_ at
all? As a matter of fact she never did dance, and from last week's
advertisements we find that she has been "running" ever since her
first appearance. Now she's off for another run in the provinces, and
then back again. Quite a theatrical illustration of the sporting term
"running in and out." And when Mr. BEERBOHM TREE is in the provinces
he is to appear as the _Prince of Denmark_.

       *       *       *       *       *

THE PURCHASE-OFFICERS' GUIDE TO THE ARMY.

(_Arranged in Question and Answer Form._)

_Question_. I may take it that the backbone of the British Army
(especially in the time of peace) are those commissioned warriors who
obtained admission to the Service by paying for their footing?

_Answer_. Indeed you may.

_Q._ And, at the time when these warriors were admitted, I fancy the
scientific branches of the Force (the "Gunners" and the "Sappers")
were rather looked down upon than otherwise?

_A._ Certainly, for you see they obtained their Commissions by brains,
and not through money-bags.

_Q._ And now you have to complain that the Generals' Establishment has
been reduced from 275 to 68?

_A._ A scandal and a shame! For this means that only a certain number
of us can hope to wear sashes round the waist, instead of hanging down
from the left shoulder.

_Q._ Does not promotion by selection, instead of seniority, cause you
also considerable loss?

_A._ Unquestionably. The Purchase Officer had a right to suppose that
once gazetted he would go up to the top of the tree, always supposing
he was able to pay his way like an officer and a gentleman.

_Q._ Is it not also sad that Officers who accept half-pay should be
called upon to serve in the Auxiliary Forces?

_A._ Not only sad, but confoundedly undignified.

_Q._ And do you not object to your condition generally?

_A._ Yes, certainly. And let me tell you the subject is _the_ burning
one of the hour!

_Q._ And what do you think of other matters affecting the welfare of
the Army?

_A_. That they are merely details that can safely wait indefinitely
the consideration of the Authorities!

       *       *       *       *       *

THE "WHETHER" AND THE PARKS.

To ask The RANGER and the Right Honourable Mr. PLUNKET, or
"_Plunketto_," as the name appears in the opera of _Marta_--

_Whether_ there cannot be some improvement made in that Despondent
Slough known as Rotten Row?

[Illustration]

_Whether_ Kensington Gardens, now sacred to nursery-maids and their
charges, and a few loungers, couldn't be opened up with one or two
good rides right across, and a few intersecting bridle-paths, after
the fashion of the Bois de Boulogne, and thus relieve the monotony of
the Row, which is getting more and more Rotten after every shower, and
more and more crowded every summer?

_Whether_, as every equestrian is rightly complaining, something
cannot be done in time for the season of 1892?

       *       *       *       *       *

-->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. July 4, 1891, by Various

*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 13563 ***