Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 99, July 19, 1890


VOL. 99

JULY 19, 1890


[Illustration: PARALLEL.

Joe, the Fat Boy in Pickwick, startles the Old Lady; Oscar, the Fad
Boy in Lippincott's, startles Mrs. Grundy.

_Oscar, the Fad Boy_. "I want to make your flesh creep!"]

The Baron has read OSCAR WILDE'S Wildest and Oscarest work, called
_Dorian Gray_, a weird sensational romance, complete in one number of
_Lippincott's Magazine_. The Baron, recommends anybody who revels in
_diablerie_, to begin it about half-past ten, and to finish it at one
sitting up; but those who do not so revel he advises either not to
read it at all, or to choose the daytime, and take it in homoeopathic
doses. The portrait represents the soul of the beautiful Ganymede-like
_Dorian Gray_, whose youth and beauty last to the end, while his soul,
like JOHN BROWN'S, "goes marching on" into the Wilderness of Sin. It
becomes at last a devilled soul. And then _Dorian_ sticks a knife into
it, as any ordinary mortal might do, and a fork also, and next morning

"Lifeless but 'hideous' he lay,"

while the portrait has recovered the perfect beauty which it possessed
when it first left the artist's easel. If OSCAR intended an allegory,
the finish is dreadfully wrong. Does he mean that, by sacrificing
his earthly life, _Dorian Gray_ atones for his infernal sins, and so
purifies his soul by suicide? "Heavens! I am no preacher," says the
Baron, "and perhaps OSCAR didn't mean anything at all, except to give
us a sensation, to show how like BULWER LYTTON'S old-world style he
could make his descriptions and his dialogue, and what an easy thing
it is to frighten the respectable _Mrs. Grundy_ with a Bogie." The
style is decidedly Lyttonerary. His aphorisms are Wilde, yet forced.
Mr. OSCAR WILDE says of his story, "it is poisonous if you like, but
you cannot deny that it is also perfect, and perfection is what we
artists aim at." Perhaps; but "we artists" do not always hit what
we aim at, and, despite his confident claim to unerring artistic
marksmanship, one must hazard the opinion, that in this case Mr. WILDE
has "shot wide." There is indeed more of "poison" than of "perfection"
in _Dorian Gray_. The central idea is an excellent, if not exactly
novel, one; and a finer art, say that of NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE, would
have made a striking and satisfying story of it. _Dorian Gray_ is
striking enough, in a sense, but it is not "satisfying" artistically,
any more than it is so ethically. Mr. WILDE has preferred the sensuous
and hyperdecorative manner of "Mademoiselle DE MAUPIN," and without
GAUTIER'S power, has spoilt a promising conception by clumsy unideal
treatment. His "decoration" (upon which he plumes himself) is indeed
"laid on with a trowel." The luxuriously elaborate details of his
"artistic hedonism" are too suggestive of South Kensington Museum
and aesthetic Encyclopaedias. A truer art would have avoided both the
glittering conceits, which bedeck the body of the story, and the
unsavoury suggestiveness which lurks in its spirit. Poisonous! Yes.
But the loathly "leperous distilment" taints and spoils, without
in any way subserving "perfection," artistic or otherwise. If _Mrs.
Grundy_ doesn't read it, the younger _Grundies_ do; that is, the
_Grundies_ who belong to Clubs, and who care to shine in certain
sets wherein this story will be much discussed. "I have read it, and,
except for the ingenious idea, I wish to forget it," says the Baron.

* * * * *

The Baron has seen the new, lively, and eccentric newspaper, entitled
_The Whirlwind_. It has reached the third number. "I am informed,"
says the Baron, "that, on payment of five guineas down, I can become
a life-subscriber to the _Whirlwind_. But what does life-subscriber
mean? Do I subscribe for the term of my life, or for the term of the
_Whirlwind's_ life? Suppose the _Whirlwind_ has to be wound up, or
whirl-winded up, and suppose I am still going on, can I intervene to
stop the proceedings, and insist on my contract to be supplied with
a _Whirlwind_ per week for the remainder of my natural or unnatural
life being carried out? If the contract is for our lives, then, as
a life-subscriber, I should insist on the _Whirlwind_ remaining
co-existent with me, so that, up to my latest breath, I might have a
_Whirlwind_. But if the life-subscription of five guineas is only for
the term of the _Whirlwind's_ life, then, I fancy the proprietors,
editor, and staff, that the Hon. STUART ERSKINE and Mr. HERBERT
VIVIAN, who are, I believe, the Proprietors, Editor, and Staff of the
_Whirlwind_, will have by far the better of the bargain. I resist the
temptation, and keep my five pounds five shillings in my pocket, and


* * * * *


[All applications in answer to be addressed to the office
of this journal, accompanied by handsome P.O.O, and lots of
shilling stamps, which will in every case be retained, without
acknowledgment, as a guarantee of good faith.]

URGENT CASE.--WANTED, by a little Boy, aged 10, of thoroughly
disagreeable temper, selfish, greedy, ill-mannered, and thoroughly
spoilt at home, a good sound Whipping, weekly, if possible. Great care
will be necessary on the part of applicant in fulfilling requirements,
parents of youth in question, being firmly convinced that he is a
noble little fellow, with a fine manly spirit, just what his dear
Papa was at his age (as is very probably the case) and only requiring
peculiarly gentle and considerate treatment.--Apply (in first
instance, by letter) to Godfather, care of _Mr. Punch_.

* * * * *

TO PARENTS AND GUARDIANS,--affectionate but practical-minded, and
anxious to find economical homes (somewhere else) for young gentlemen
who cannot get on without expensive assistance at starting in Mother
country, owing to excessive competition in laborious and over-crowded
professions. A firm of enterprising Agents offer bracing and
profitable occupation (coupled with the use _gratis_, of two broken
spades, an old manure-cart, and an axe without a handle) in a
peculiarly romantic and unhealthy district in the backwoods of
West-Torrida. Photograph, if desired, of Agent's residence (distant
several hundred miles away.) Excellent opening for young men fresh
from first-class public school or college-life: who should, of course,
be prepared to "rough it" a little before making competence or
large fortune, by delightful pursuit of agriculture. No restrictive
civilisation. No drains. Excellent supply of water and heavy floods as
a rule, during three months of year, bringing on Spring crops without
expense of irrigation. Very low death-rate, most of population
having recently cleared out. Small village and (horse)-doctor within
twenty-five miles' ride. Wild and beautiful country. Every incentive
to work. Rare poisonous reptiles, and tarantula spiders, most
interesting to young observant naturalist. Capital prospect--great
saving offered to careful parents anxious to set up brougham, or
increase private expenses. Five boys (reduction on taking a quantity)
disposed of for about L250 and outfit, with probably, no further
trouble.--Address, Messrs. SHARKEY AND CRIMPIN, Colonial and
Emigration Agents. &c.

* * * * *

CONCERTS! CONCERTS!--Amateur Comic Vocalist and impromptu "Vamper"
(gentleman born) of several years' experience in best London Society,
is anxious to meet with bold and speculative Manager who will offer
him a first engagement. Can sing--omitting a few high notes--various
popular melodies, comprising, "_Aunt Sarah's Back-hair," "The Twopenny
Toff of 'Ighgate 'Ill_," and "_Tommy Robinson's Last Cigar_," and also
play piano if required, with one finger, but prefers to be accompanied
by indefatigable friend, who plays entirely by ear, and if allowed to
smoke freely, can "pick up" any tune in a quarter of an hour. Seldom
breaks down or forgets words, except before large or unsympathetic
audience. Fetching comic "biz," and superlative Music-hall "chic."
Would have no objection to black face and appear at evening parties,
or in fashionable streets, with banjo (if provided with small police
escort.) Testimonials from several highly respectable relatives, now
in asylum, or under treatment at seaside.--Address, with terms, the
Hon. ALGERNON BRASSLEIGH CHEEKINGTON (or at Chimpanzee Chambers in
Piccadilly, W.)

* * * * *

be called immediately after dinner, and then each boy, instead
of saying, "Here, Sir!" could reply, classically and correctly,
"_Adsum!_" Yours truly, AN OVER-ETON BOY.

* * * * *

[Illustration: LAT. 60 deg. 8' N. LONG. 4 deg. 30' E.

_Mr. Punch en route for the Midnight Sun. First glimpse of Norway._]

* * * * *


The Total Abstainer staggered to his feet. The room seemed to be
waltzing round him, and his legs acted independently of each other.
One of those legs tried to walk to the right, whilst the other moved
to the left! He looked in the mirror and saw a double reflection!
He had two noses, a couple of mouths, four eyes, and countless
whiskers. This made him merry, and he laughed in very glee. But
only for a while! Soon he became utterly depressed. Then his head
ached--horribly! He tried to sleep--he could not! "Never too late--to
MENDAL!" he gasped out, uttering in his extreme agitation the name of
a Physician of Berlin who had made inebriety a special study.

Then his muscles became weak and trembling, his aversion to labour
increased, and he had scarcely the energy or power to observe that
his complexion (in patches) was ruddier than the cherry.

"Alas!" he sighed, and he succumbed permanently to persistent

And what was the cause of this unfortunate, this terrible condition?
Sad to say, the question was easily answered. The Total Abstainer had
taken a drop too much--of Coffee!

* * * * *




_Wednesday_.--All the Police, having now been replaced by Amateur
Special Constables, who are as yet unfamiliar with their duties, the
position of the Metropolitan Magistrates becomes impossible, and
they resign in a body at five minutes' notice, causing the greatest
consternation in signalling their resignation by sending every case
on the charge-sheet that morning for trial to a superior Court.

_Thursday_.--The Judges, overwhelmed by the prospect of an unusual and
quite impossible amount of extra work, demand the increase of their
salaries to L10,000 per annum. On this being categorically refused
by the Treasury, they then and there, on their respective Benches,
severally tear off their wigs and robes, and quit their Courts "for
good," with threatening gestures.

_Friday_.--The LORD CHANCELLOR, on being informed of the conduct of
the Judges, rips open the Woolsack, scattering its contents over the
floor of the House of Lords, and, denouncing the Government, throws up
his post on the spot. The legal business of the country, coming thus
to a deadlock, is involved in further chaos by a sudden strike of
all the Members of both the Senior and Junior Bars, which is further
complicated by another of every Solicitor in the three kingdoms.

_Saturday_.--Gatling guns being posted in the Entrance Hall, and Bow
Street having been cleared by a preliminary discharge of artillery,
the programme of the Royal Italian Opera for the evening is carried
out, as advertised, at Covent Garden. Ladies wearing their diamonds,
are conveyed to the theatre in Police Vans, surrounded by detachments
of the Household Cavalry, and gentlemen's evening dress is
supplemented by a six-chambered revolver, an iron-cased umbrella, a
head protector, and a double-edged cut-and-thrusting broad-sword.

_Sunday_.--The Church having caught the prevailing fever, the entire
body of the Clergy, headed by the Bishops, come out on strike, with
the result that no morning, afternoon, or evening services are held
anywhere. The Medical Profession takes up the idea, and, discovering
a grievance, the Royal College of Surgeons issues a manifesto. All the
hospitals turn out their patients, and medical men universally drop
all their cases. An M.D. who is known, upon urgent pressure, to have
made an official visit, is chased up and down Harley Street by a mob
of his infuriated brother practitioners, and is finally nearly lynched
on a lamp-post in Cavendish Square. The day closes in with a serious
riot in Hyde Park, caused by the meeting of the conflicting elements
of Society, who have all marched there with their bands and banners to
air their respective grievances.

_Monday_.--The London County Council, School Board, Common Council,
Court of Aldermen, and the Royal Academicians after discovering,
respectively, some trifling sources of dissatisfaction, wreck their
several establishments, and finally march along the Thames Embankment
towards Westminster, singing, alternately, the "_Marseillaise_" and
"_Ask a Pleece-man._"

_Tuesday_.--The House of Commons, after tossing the SPEAKER in his own
gown, declare the Constitution extinct, and, abolishing the House of
Lords and giving all the Foreign Ambassadors twelve hours notice to
quit the country, announce their own dissolution, and immediately
commence their Autumn Holiday.

_Wednesday_.--Railway Directors, Sweeps, Chairmen of Public Companies,
Coal-Heavers, Provincial Mayors, Dentists, Travelling Circus
Proprietors, Fish Contractors, Beadles, Cabinet Ministers, Street
Scavengers, Dog Fanciers, Archbishops, Gas Fitters, Hereditary
Legislators, Prize Fighters, Poor-Law Guardians, Lion Tamers,
Green-Grocers, and many other discontented members of the community,
having all joined in a universal strike, society, becomes totally
disorganised, and the entire country quietly but, effectually
collapses, and disappears from the European system.

* * * * *




For shame, be friends, and join for that you jar:
'Tis Union and Strikes, my lads, must do
That you affect; and so must you resolve
That what you cannot severally achieve,
United you may manage as you will.
A speedier course than lingering languishment
Must we pursue, and I have found the path.
My lads, a biggish business is in hand;
Together let brave British Bobbies troop:
The City streets are numerous and wealthy,
And many unfrequented nooks there be,
Fitted by kind for violence and theft;
But take you thence, and many a watchful ruffian
Will soon strike home, by force and not by words:
This way, or not at all, stand you in hope.
Come, come, our comrades, with more sluggish wit,
To vigilance and duty consecrate,
Will we acquaint with all that we intend,
And we will so commit them to our cause
That they cannot stand off or "square" themselves;
But to your wishes' height you'll all advance.
The City's courts have houses of ill-fame,
Town's palaces are full of wanton wealth,
The slums are ruthless, ravenous ripe for crime.
_Then speak, and strike, brave boys, and take your turn_!

* * * * *


_Fair Authoress_. "SO SORRY TO BE SO LATE. I'M AFRAID I'M _LAST_!"

_Genial Host_. "'_LAST_--BUT NOT _LEAST_!'"]

* * * * *




When thou art near, the hemisphere
Commissioned to surround me,
(As well as you,) is subject to
Some changes that astound me.
Where'er I look I seem mistook;
All objects--what, I care not--
At once arrange to make a change
To something that they were not!
When thou art near, love,
Strange things occur--
Thickness is clear, love,
Clearness a blur.
Penguins are weasels,
Cheap things are dear,
"Jumps" are but measles
When thou art near!

When thou art close, the doctor's dose
Is quite a decent tonic.
Thy presence, too, makes all things new,
And five-act plays laconic.
And, with thee by, the earth's the sky,
And _your_ "day out" is _my_ day,
While tailors' bills are daffodils,
And Saturday is Friday!
When thou art here, love,
Just where you are,
Far things are near, love,
Near things are far.
Beef-tea is wine, love,
Champagne is beer,
Wet days are fine, love,
When thou art near.

Without you stand quite close at hand,
A broker _is_ a broker;
But stick by me, and then he'll be
A very pleasant joker!
Without thee by, a lie's a lie--
The truth is nought but truthful.
But by me stay, and night is day--
And even _you_ are youthful
When thou art near, love,--
Not, love, unless,--
Thick soup is clear, love,
Football is chess.
Tadpoles are deer,
Wise men are fools, love,
When thou art near!

* * * * *

When KENNEDY fell out of his boat at Henley, his antagonist, PSOTTA,
magnanimously waited for him to get in again. He must be a good Psotta

* * * * *

LOST OPPORTUNITIES.--Last Tuesday week the members of the Incorporated
Cain-and-Abel-Authors' Society lost a great treat when Mr. GEORGE
AUGUSTUS lost a indignantly refused to take his seat "below the salt,"
and walked out without making the speech with which his name was
associated on the toast-list. But, on the other hand, what a big
chance Orator GEORGE AUGUSTUS lost of coming out strong in opposition,
and astonishing the Pen-and-Inkorporated ones with a few stirring
remarks, in his most genial vein, on the brotherhood of Authors,
and their appreciation of distinguished services in the field
of Literature. It was an opportunity, too, for suggesting
"Re-distribution of Seats."

* * * * *


The merry bells do naught but ring,
The streets are gay with flag and pennant,
The birds more sweetly seem to sing--
A Heart to Let has found a TENNANT!
No more will HENRY MORTON roam,
Nor from your charms away for long go,
But, honeymooning here at home,
Forget he ever saw the Congo!

To Oxford 'twas your husband went--
The stately home of Don and Proctor--
Where, 'mid the deafening cheers that rent
The air, he straight became a Doctor.
As one whose valour none can shake,
We've sung him in a thousand ditties,
And freedoms too we've made him take
Of goodness knows how many cities!

Yet while to honour and to praise
With one another we've been vying,
Has he not told us for the days
Of rest to come he ne'er ceased sighing?
And when, with pomp of high degree,
Your marriage vows and troth you plighted,
Why, everyone was glad to see
Art and Adventure thus united!

"To those about to Marry.--Don't!"
So _Mr. Punch_ did once advise us.
Spread the advice? I'm sure you won't.
A course which hardly need surprise us.
O lovely wife of one we think
Above all others brave and manly,
We clink our glasses as we drink
Long life and health to Mrs. STANLEY!

* * * * *


"I confess I was not at all prepared for the feelings that
some South Africans appear to entertain with respect to our
conduct in the recent negotiations"--_Lord Salisbury to
the Deputation of African Merchants respecting the proposed
Anglo-German Agreement._

[Illustration: _Imperial Instrumentalist_ (_loquitur_). "WHAT, NOT

I fancied that this Instrument
Would make a great sensation
And that its music would content
The critics and the nation,
I know it is what vulgar folks
Christen the "Constant-screamer;"
I thought _you_'d scorn such feeble jokes;
It seems I was a dreamer.
You writhe your lips, you close your ears!
Dear me! Such conduct tries me.
You do not like it, it appears
Well, well,--you _do_ surprise me!

'Tis not, I know, the Jingo drum,
Nor the "Imperial" trumpet.
(The country to their call won't come,
However much you stump it.)
They're out of fashion; 'tis not now
As in the days of "BEAKEY."
People dislike the Drum's tow-row.
And call the Trumpet squeaky.
So I the Concertina try,
As valued friends advise me.
What's that you say? It's all my eye?
Well, well,--you _do_ surprise me!

I fancied you would like it much,
You and the other fellows.
Admire the tone, remark my touch!
And what capacious bellows!
'Tis not as loud as a trombone,
But harmony's not rumpus;
The chords are charming, and you'll own
It has a pretty compass.
I swing like this, I sway like that!
Fate a fine theme supplies me!
The "treatment" you think feeble, flat?
Well, well--you _do_ surprise me!

The "European Concert"? Grand!
(You recollect that term, man!)
_This_ is a Concertina, and
It's make is Anglo-German,
You can't _expect_ the thing to be
English alone, completely;
But really, as 'tis played by me.
Does it not sound most sweetly?
Humph! DONALD CURRIE cocks his nose,
BECKETT disdainfully eyes me,
My Concertina you would--_close!_
Well, well--you _do_ surprise me!

* * * * *


Scarcely a day passes without bringing us nearer to the end of the
year. That is a melancholy reflection, but we are not sure that it
exhausts all the possibilities of misery latent in the flight of
time. It has been noticed, for instance, that the Duke of X----, whose
sporting proclivities are notorious, never fails to celebrate his
birthday with a repast at an inferior _restaurant_, and, as His Grace
is powerful, his friends suffer in silence and bewail his increasing
ducal age.

* * * * *

Henley Regatta came off as arranged. This is a peculiarity which is
very striking in connection with this Royal fixture. We are informed
that several certainties were upset, but by whom and why has not
been stated. Candidly speaking, such a brutal method as "upsetting"
consorts ill with the softer manners of our time. On the Thames, too,
it must be extraordinarily disagreeable.

* * * * *

Mrs. WEEDLE, the Hon. Mrs. THREADBARE, and Lady FAWN, have joined
the lately established Bureau for the Dissemination of Fashionable
Friendships. The Personal Advertising Department is now open, and is
daily filled with a distinguished crowd of applicants. Arrangements
are in process of completion for supplying the deserving rich with
cambric handkerchiefs, and imitation diamonds, at nominal prices.

* * * * *

A well-known Actor has lately been deprived of his customary allowance
of fat. His loss of weight (in avoirdupois) has been computed at
five-sixteenths of the integral cubit of a patent accumulator's
vertical boiling power, divided by the fractional resistance of a
plate-glass window to a two-horse-power catapult.

* * * * *

The weather has been variable, with cryptoconchoidal deflections of a
solid reverberating isobar previously tested in a solution of zinc and
soda-water. This indicates cold weather in December next.

* * * * *

Consols 1/50094th better. Wheat in demand. Jute firm. Bank rate too
fast to last.

* * * * *

A Politician, whose name has been frequently mentioned during the
late crisis, has stated it as his opinion that a temperance orator's
powers of persuasion are to a moral victory as a Prime Minister is
to a willow-pattern dinner-plate. The remark caused much excitement
in the lobby, where this gentleman's humorous sallies never lack

* * * * *

What is this I hear of a certain Noble Duke, well-known in sporting
circles, having accepted a three months' engagement to appear in a
"comic character sketch of his own composition," at a long-established
East End-Music Hall? If there is any truth in the rumour, I should
like to ask _what the Duchess has been about?_

* * * * *

A distinguished Oxford Mathematical Professor has, just after
prolonged and patient research, established the undoubted certainty
of the following interesting facts beyond any possible question or
controversy:--That the quantity of Almond Rock Hard Bake, consumed in
the United Kingdom in the year terminating on the 15th of May last,
amounted to 17 lbs. 9 oz. for each member of the population, including
women and children. That if at all the old and discarded Chimney Pot
Hats for a like period were collected in a heap, and packed closely
together, they would fill a building twice the height of St. Paul's,
and three times the length of the Crystal Palace. That winners of
the Derby who have become eventually four-wheeler cab-horses are
ninety-six in number, but that there is _only one authentic_ instance
of a four-wheeler cab-horse having become a Derby winner.

* * * * *

So great is the craze for the newest idea in locomotion that it is
calculated that including Duchesses no less than 1470 _grandes dames_
whose names are well-known in Society, now pass Piccadilly Circus on
the outside of the London General Omnibus Company's vehicles, between
the hours of 8 A.M. and 10 P.M. daily.

* * * * *

is to be a diligent student of _Mr. Punch's_ works, and to have earned
the abuse of the _Pall-Mall Gazette_.

* * * * *


_Monday_.--_Les Huguenots_. Great night in consequence of police
strike in Bow Street. Rioting, and Life Guards called out late, just
as they were retiring for the night. Down they came, in regimentals,
in undress, anyhow, to quell the disturbance. At least, such is the
report inside the house. But inconvenient to be in two places at
once. Henceforth they ought to record this incident by having an
extinguisher (typical of going to bed and also of quelling the row)
slung on to their breast-plates. Extinguisher clinking against
armour would make pretty noise. Their Royal Highnesses the Prince and
Princess of WALES, having come to enjoy the Opera, remain undisturbed,
and leave in perfect tranquillity. Excellent example to perturbed
audience. Excitement within the house. DRURIOLANUS, Earl DE GREY,
Mr. HIGGINS, and other members of the Organising Operatic Committee,
ready to charge the mob at a moment's notice, to charge up to two
guineas a stall, if necessary. Not necessary, however. Calls for the
Sheriff-elect. DRURIOLANUS, not having the official costume ready,
cannot appear in it, but uses his authority and his persuasive powers
in clearing lobbies, saloons, and hall. At any moment he is ready
to march out with all the Huguenot soldiers and charge the rioters.
Peace restored about midnight, Household troops sent home to bed, and
constables decided to strike only on the heads of roughs, rowdies,
and burglars. This shows how useful it is to have a Sheriff on the
premises. At Her Majesty's last winter they had the nearest approach
to it, that is, Sheriff's officers on the premises. But this is not
precisely the same thing, as Sheriff's officers wear no uniform, and
not being permitted to go out of a house when once it is given into
their custody, they, however valiant, are of no use in a crowd.


_Tuesday_.--_Lohengrin_. Regardless of rioters, their Royal Highnesses
again here. Much cheered outside on driving away. Yet crowd in Strand
(so we hear) not particularly good-tempered, and have wrecked a
private brougham or two. No effect on Opera, which goes as well as
ever. Rumours that the player of the _grosse caisse_ has struck at
rehearsal are confirmed, he appears in his place and strikes again,
so does the Shakspearian performer "Cymbaline."

_Wednesday_.--_Don Giovanni_. ZELIE DE LUSSAN as _Zerlina_, very
popular. Still a little too like _Carmen_ in appearance. LASSALLE
can't be bettered. Great night everywhere. Mlle. MELBA and Mr. EDOUARD
DE RESZKE taking a little holiday at a concert in Grosvenor Square,
where also are Madame PATEY and another EDWARD yclept LLOYD, whom
HERR GANZ accompanies with his "_Sons of Tubal Cain_"--no political
allusion to the recent Barrow Election. Opera comparatively full.
Some _habitues_ look in to see how everything's going on, then go on
themselves to Reception in Piccadilly, At Homes elsewhere, M.P.Q.'s
Smoking Concert, and various other entertainments. Society winding
itself up brilliantly. "Rebellion's dead! and now we'll go to supper."
And so we do. "Again we come to the Savoy!"

_Thursday_.--_Lucia_ off-night, but everything and everybody "going
on" as usual. H.R.H. again at Opera.

_Friday_.--_La Favorita_. Breathing time before the great Operatic
event of week to-morrow night.

_Saturday_.--_Esmeralda_. Too late at last moment to say anything on
this splendid subject, save that the Composer was deservedly greeted
with a storm--of applause!

* * * * *


PRIVATE R. VAN WINKLE opened his eyes, and, taking up his rusty rifle,
marched towards the new ranges.

"Dear me!" said he, gazing with amazement at his surroundings, "this
is not at all like what I saw when I went to sleep."

"No, RIP, it is not," replied _Mr. Punch_, who happened to be in the
neighbourhood. He had been watching his sweetest Princess making a
bull's-eye at the opening ceremony.

"Why, it is twice as large as Wimbledon," continued the astounded

"You are well within the limit," the Sage assented, "and see, there
is plenty of space. No fear of damaging any of the tenants of GEORGE
RANGER in _this_ part of the country."

"No, indeed!" exclaimed Private VAN WINKLE. "Not that I think His
Royal Highness had much cause of complaint. The truth is--"

"Let bygones be bygones," interrupted _Mr. Punch_. "GEORGE RANGER is
no longer your landlord, except, in a certain sense, representing the
interests of the Regular Army, and I shall keep _my_ eye upon him in
that capacity."

"An entirely satisfactory arrangement. But where are the fancy tents,
and the luncheon parties, and all the etceteras that used to be so
pleasant at Wimbledon?"

"Disappeared," returned _Mr. Punch_, firmly. "Bisley is to be more
like Shoeburyness (where the Artillery set an excellent example to
the Infantry) than the Surrey saturnalia."

"And is it to be _all_ work and no play?"

"That will be the general idea. Of course, in the evening, when
nothing better can be done, there will be harmonic meetings round the
camp-fires. But while light lasts, the crack of the rifle and the
ping of the bullet will be heard in all directions, _vice_ the pop
of champagne corks superseded. And if you don't like the prospect,
my dear RIP, you had better go to sleep again."

But Private VAN WINKLE remained awake--to his best interests!

* * * * *


Well, we're jest about going it, at the reel "Grand Hotel," we are. We
had jest about the werry lovliest wedding here, larst week, as I ewer
seed, ewen with my great xperiense. Such a collekshun of brave-looking
men and reel handsum women as seldom meets together xcept on these
most hintresting occashuns. And as good luck wood have it, jest as
we was in the werry wirl and xcitement of it all, who should come in
to lunch but the same emminent yung Swell as cum about a munth ago.
And he had jest the same helegant but simple lunch as before, with a
bottle of the same splendid Champane, as before, and he didn't harf
finish it, as before, and not a drop of what he left was wasted, as
before; and so, when he paid me his little account, he arsked me if
many of the werry bewtifool ladies, as I had told him of when he came
larst, had been to the "Grand" lately, so the bold thort seized, me,
and I says to him, "Yes, your ---- ----, there's jest a nice few of
'em here now, and if you will kindly foller me up to our bewtifool
Libery, and will keep your eyes quite wide open as you gos along, you
will see jest about a hole room full of 'em."


So I took him parst the grand room in which the Wedding Gests was
assembled, and there sure enuff, he seed such a collection of smiling
bewty, as ewidently made a great impression on his---- ----'s Art,
and one speshally lovely Bridesmade gave him a look, as he passed by,
as ewidently went rite thro it. I scarcely xpecs to be bleeved wen I
says, as his ---- ----'s cheeks quite blusht with hadmirashun, and he
turned round to me and says, says he, "Ah, Mr. ROBERT, if there was
many such reel lovely angels as that a flying about, I rayther thinks
as I shood be perswaded to turn a Bennedictus myself." I didn't at all
know what he meant, but I thort as it was werry credittable to him.
We got quite a chatting arterwards in the Libery, of course I don't
mean to say as I forgot for a moment the strornary difference atween
us, but he had werry ewidently been werry much struck by the lovely
Bridesmade, for he says, "Mr. ROBERT," says he, "what's about the rite
time for a man to marry?"

Of course I was reglar staggered, but I pulls myself together, and I
says, without not no hesitashun, "Jest a leetle under 30, your ----
----, for the Gent, and jest a leetle over 20 for the Lady, and then
the Gent gits just about 10 years advantage, which I thinks as he's
well entitled to." At which he larfs quite hartily, and he says, "Why
that wood keep me single for another ten years--but I will think it
over;" and, strange to say, jest as we passed again by the room as the
Bridal party was in, the same lovely Bridesmade happend to be near the
door, so they coud both have a good look at each other, and a hansum
cupple they was, if ever I seed one. And when his ---- ---- wished
me good day, which he did, quite in a frendly way, he added, with his
most bewtifool smile, "Ten years, MR. ROBERT, seems a long time to
wait for such a sweet angel as that!"

Ah, it's a rum world as we all lives in, and in nothink much rummer
than in the wunderfool power of a bewtifool face, ah, and as sumbody
says, for Wheel or for Wo, jest as it appens, more's the pitty.

I rayther thinks, as I gathers from the tork of the many yung swells
as we has dining here, that they are not altogether what I shoud call
a marrying race; they seems to think as there's allers plenty of time
for that sollem seremony when they're a good deal older.

Ah, of course it isn't for a poor old Hed Waiter to presume to adwise
young and hemenent swells, but my xperiense of uman life teaches me,
as the werry werry appiest time of a man's life is from 30 to about
40, perwided as he has been lucky enuff to secure for hisself a yung,
bewtifool, good-tempered, helegant, and ercomplished Bride, to, as the
Poet says, harve his sorrows, and dubble his joys.


* * * * *



&c., &c., &c., &c.]

* * * * *


The Lying Spirit! "Doctrine hard!" some mutter,
Dictated by unsympathetic scorn;
A doctrine that on light would draw the shutter,
And close the opening gateways of the morn.
No so; no guiding light would _Punch_ extinguish,
Or chill true champion of the toiling crowd;
But wisdom at its kindliest must distinguish
Between true guides and tricksters false as loud.
The blameless King his headlong knights upbraided
In kindly grief for "following foolish fires,"
False flames that in mere dun marsh-darkness faded,
Leaving lost votaries to its mists and mires;
And here's an _ignis fatuus_, fired by folly,
And moved by violence as fierce as blind;
The gulf before's a bourne most melancholy,
And what of those fast following behind?
Well-meaning hearts, maybe, all expectation
Of glittering gains upon a perilous road,
Stirred by wild whirling words to keen elation,
Pricked on by poverty's imperious goad;
Hoping,--as who of hope shall be forbidden?--
Striving,--as who hath not the right to strive?--
For flaunted gain through perils shrewdly hidden!
Oh, labourers hard in Industry's huge hive,
What wonder, if, ill-paid and tired, you hasten
To follow the loud bauble and the lure,
Or gird at those who your wild hopes would chasten,
Or guide you on a pathway more secure!
And yet beware! No oriflamme of battle
Is that false radiance round yon impish brow.
The jester's bladder-bauble, with its rattle
Of prisoned peas, is not the tow-row-row
Of Labour's true _reveille_. Bonnet Phrygian,
Cap of sham Liberty, the spectre wears;
But he will plunge to depths of darkness Stygian
Whom anti-civic Violence ensnares.
Plain Justice, honest Hope are good to follow,
But Insubordination, fierce and blind,
Mouthing out furious threat or promise hollow.
Is the sworn foe of civilised mankind;
Breaking up ancient bonds of love and duty,
All social links that bear abiding test,
With no sound promise of a better beauty,
A fairer justice, or a truer rest.
No; patient Labour, with its long-borne burden
And guardian Force, with its thrice-noble trust,
Claim from the State the fullest, freest guerdon,
And all wise souls, all spirits fair and just,
Must back the Great Appeal that Time advances,
And Progress justifies in this our time.
But civic Violence, in all circumstances
Now like to hap, is anti-social crime,
Foul in its birth and fatal in its issue.
Tyrannic act, incendiary speech,
Recklessly rend the subtly woven tissue
That binds Society's organs each to each.
Strong Toiler, deft Auxiliar, stalwart Warder,
Your hour has struck, your tyrants face their doom,
But let hot haste unsettle temperate order,
And Hope's bright disc will feel eclipse's gloom.
This is a lying spirit, sly and sinister,
Its promise false, its loud incitements vain.
Not to your true advantage shall it minister,
Mere Goblin Gold its glittering show of Gain:
Spectre of Chaos and the Abyss, it flutters
Before you flaunting high its foolish fire,
But there's a lie in each loud word it utters,
And its true goal is Anarchy's choking mire!

* * * * *


On the 24th of June, 1871, _Mr. Punch_ sang, _apropos_ of the Germans
desiring to purchase Heligoland--

"Though to rule the waves, we may believe they aspire,
If their Navy grow great, we must let it;
But if one British island they think to acquire,
Bless their hearts, don't they wish they may get it?"

And they _have_ got it!

* * * * *

[Illustration: THE LYING SPIRIT.]

* * * * *


What is this your _Punch_ hears of you? Can't you dissipate his fears?
Did the bugle ring out vainly for the British Grenadiers?
Once the regiment was famous for its deeds of derring-do,
And you followed where the flag went when on alien winds it flew.
Has the soldiers' "oath of duty" been forgotten, that you shirk,
Not the face of foe, we're certain, but this kit-inspecting work?

You have trodden paths of glory (we have seen your banners fly)
Where the murky smoke of battle gathered thickly o'er the sky;
Can you thus besmirch the laurels that in other days you won,
By forgetfulness of duties that by soldiers must be done?
Egad! my gallant lads, your _Punch_ can scarce believe his ears,
When he hears this shocking story of the British Grenadiers!

* * * * *



The Hostess is receiving her Guests at the head of the
staircase; a Conscientiously Literal Man presents himself.

_Hostess_ (_with a gracious smile, and her eyes directed to the people
immediately behind him_). _So_ glad you were able to come--how do you


_The Conscientiously Literal Man_. Well, if you had asked me that
question this afternoon, I should have said was in for a severe attack
of malarial fever--I had all the symptoms--but, about seven o'clock
this evening, they suddenly passed off, and--

[Perceives, to his surprise, that his Hostess's attention
is wandering, and decides to tell her the rest later in the

_Mr. Clumpsole_. How do you do, Miss THISTLEDOWN? Can you give me a

_Miss Thistledown_ (_who has danced with him before_--once). With
pleasure--let me see, the third extra after supper? Don't forget.

_Miss Brushleigh_ (_to Major Erser_). Afraid I can't give you anything
just now--but if you see me standing about later on, you can come and
ask me again, you know.

_Mr. Boldover_ (_glancing eagerly round the room as he enters, and
soliloquizing mentally_). She ought to be here by this time, if she's
coming--can't see her though--she's certainly not dancing. There's her
sister over there with the mother. She _hasn't_ come, or she'd be with
them. Poor-looking lot of girls here to-night--don't think much of
this music--get away as soon as I can, no _go_ about the thing!...
Hooray! There she is, after all! Jolly waltz this is they're playing!
How pretty she's looking--how pretty _all_ the girls are looking! If
I can only get her to give me one dance, and sit out most of it
somewhere! I feel as if I could talk to her to-night. By Jove, I'll
try it!

[Watches his opportunity, and is cautiously making his way
towards his divinity, when he is intercepted.

_Mrs. Grappleton_. Mr. BOLDOVER, I do believe you were going to _cut_
me! (_Mr. B. protests and apologises._) Well, _I_ forgive you. I've
been wanting to have another talk with you for ever so long. I've
been thinking so _much_ of what you said that evening about BROWNING'S
relation to Science and the Supernatural. Suppose you take me
downstairs for an ice or something, and we can have it out comfortably

[Dismay of Mr. B., who has entirely forgotten any theories
he may have advanced on the subject, but has no option but to
comply; as he leaves the room with Mrs. GRAPPLETON on his
arm, he has a torturing glimpse of Miss ROUNDARM, apparently
absorbed in her partner's conversation.

_Mr. Senior Roppe_ (_as he waltzes_). Oh, you needn't feel convicted
of extraordinary ignorance, I assure you, Miss FEATHERHEAD. YOU would
be surprised if you knew how many really clever persons have found
that simple little problem of nought divided by one too much for them.
Would you have supposed, by the way, that there is a reservoir in
Pennsylvania containing a sufficient number of gallons to supply all
London for eighteen months? You don't quite realise it, I see. "How
many gallons is that?" Well, let me calculate roughly--taking
the population of London at four millions, and the average daily
consumption for each individual at--no, I can't work it out with
sufficient accuracy while I am dancing; suppose we sit down, and I'll
do it for you on my shirt-cuff--oh, very well; then I'll work it out
when I get home, and send you the result to-morrow, if you will allow

_Mr. Culdersack_ (_who has provided himself beforehand with a set of
topics for conversation--to his partner, as they halt for a moment_).
Er--(_consults some hieroglyphics on his cuff stealthily_)--have you
read STANLEY'S book yet?

_Miss Tabula Raiser_. No, I haven't. Is it interesting?

_Mr. Culdersack_. I can't say. I've not seen it myself. Shall

[They take another turn.

_Mr. C._ I suppose you have--er--been to the (_hesitates between
the Academy and the Military Exhibition--decides on latter topic as
fresher_) Military Exhibition?

_Miss T.R._ No--not yet. What do you think of it?

_Mr. C._ Oh--_I_ haven't been either. Er--do you care to--?

[They take another turn.

_Mr. C._ (_after third halt_). Er--do you take any interest in

_Miss T.R._ Not a bit.

_Mr. C._ (_much relieved_). No more do I. (_Considers that he has
satisfied all mental requirements_). Er--let me take you down-stairs
for an ice.

[They go.

_Mrs. Grappleton_ (_re-entering with_ Mr. BOLDOVER, _after a
discussion that has outlasted two ices and a plate of strawberries_).
Well, I thought you would have explained my difficulties better than
_that_--oh, what a _delicious_ waltz! Doesn't it set you longing to

_Mr. B._ (_who sees_ Miss ROUNDARM _in the distance, disengaged_).
Yes, I really think I must--

[Preparing to escape.

_Mrs. Grappleton_. I'm getting such an old thing, that really I
oughtn't to--but well, just this _once_, as my husband isn't here.

[MR. BOLDOVER resigns himself to necessity once more.

_First Chaperon_ (_to 2nd ditto_). How sweet it is of your eldest girl
to dance with that absurd Mr. CLUMPSOLE! It's really too _bad_ of him
to make such an exhibition of her--one can't help smiling at them!

_Second Ch._ Oh, ETHEL never can bear to hurt anyone's feelings--so
different from some girls! By the way, I've not seen _your_ daughter
dancing to-night--men who dance are so scarce nowadays--I suppose they
think they have the right to be a little fastidious.

_First Ch._ BELLA has been out so much this week, that she doesn't
care to dance except with a really first-rate partner. She is not so
easily pleased as your ETHEL, I'm afraid.

_Second Ch._ ETHEL is _young_, you see, and, when one is pressed so
much to dance, one can hardly refuse, _can_ one? When she has had as
many Seasons as BELLA, she will be less energetic, I daresay.

[MR. BOLDOVER has at last succeeded in approaching Miss
ROUNDARM, and even in inducing her to sit out a dance with
him; but, having led her to a convenient alcove, he finds
himself totally unable to give any adequate expression to the
rapture he feels at being by her side.

_Mr. B._ (_determined to lead up to it somehow_). I--I was rather
thinking--(_he_ meant _to say, "devoutly hoping," but, to his own
bitter disgust, it comes out like this_)--I should meet you here

_Miss R._ Were you? Why?

_Mr. B._ (_with a sudden dread of going too far just yet_). Oh,
(_carelessly_), you know how one _does_ wonder who will be at a place,
and who won't.

_Miss R._ No, indeed, I don't.--_how_ does one wonder?

_Mr. B._ (_with a vague notion of implying a complimentary exception
in her case_). Oh, well, generally--(_with the fatal tendency of a shy
man to a sweeping statement_)--one may be pretty sure of meeting just
the people one least wants to see, you know.

_Miss R._ And so you thought you would probably meet me. I _see_.

_Mr. B._ (_overwhelmed with confusion, and not in the least knowing
what he says_). No, no, I didn't think that--I hoped you mightn't--I
mean, I was afraid you might--

[Stops short, oppressed by the impossibility of explaining.

_Miss R._ You are not very complimentary to-night, are you?

_Mr. B._ I can't pay compliments--to _you_--I don't know how it is,
but I never can talk to you as I can to other people!

_Miss R._ Are you amusing when you are with other people?

_Mr. B._ At all events I can find things to say to _them_.

Enter Another Man.

_Another Man_ (_to_ Miss B.). Our dance, I think?

_Miss R._ (_who had intended to get out of it_). I was wondering if
you ever meant to come for it. (_To_ Mr. B., _as they rise._) Now
I shan't feel I am depriving the other people! (_Perceives the
speechless agony in his expression, and relents._) Well, you can have
the next after this if you care about it--only _do_ try to think of
something in the meantime! (_As she goes off._) You will--won't you?

_Mr. B._ (_to himself_). She's given me another chance! If only I can
rise to it. Let me see--what shall I begin with? _I_ know--_Supper!_
She hasn't been down yet.

_His Hostess_. Oh, Mr. BOLDOVER, you're not dancing this--do be good
and take someone down to supper--those poor Chaperons are dying for
some food.

[Mr. B. takes down a Matron whose repast is protracted
through three waltzes and a set of Lancers--he comes up to
find Miss ROUNDARM gone, and the Musicians putting up their

_Coachman at door_ (_to Linkman, as Mr. B. goes down the steps_).
That's the _lot_, JIM!

[Mr. B. walks home, wishing the Park Gates were not shut, to
as to render the Serpentine inaccessible_

* * * * *



* * * * *



_House of Commons, Monday, July 7._--Cabinet Council on Saturday;
House begins to think it's time Ministers made up their minds what
they're going to do with business of Session. But OLD MORALITY returns
customary answer. Ministry still carefully considering question.
Meantime he has nothing to say.

"Except in respect of sex and age, O.M. reminds me." said ALBEBT
ROLLIT, "of scene in play recently put on stage by BEERBOHM TREE--_A
Man's Shadow_ it was called. Daresay you remember, TOBY; there's a
murder witnessed through window by wife and little daughter.
They think it's their man that did the deed; but 'twas the other
fellow--the Shadow, don't you know. There is police inquiry; mother
and daughter cross-examined; believe the murderer is the husband and
father; saw him do it with their own eyes; but of course not going
to peach; little girl pressed to tell all she knows; makes answer in
voice that thrills Gallery, and makes mothers in the Pit weep, 'I have
seen nothing, I have heard nothing.' Never see OLD MORALITY come to
the table, as he is now accustomed nightly to do, and protest he has
no statement to make, than I think of the little TERRY in this Scene,
and her wailing, piteous cry, 'I have seen nothing, I have heard
nothing.' Quite time he had, though. If Ministers can't make up their
minds, what's the House to do? Begin to think if things don't mend
soon, I shall have a better record of business done to show at end of
Session than the Ministry. Bankruptcy Bill will make three Measures to
me this Session."

[Illustration: "THE SHADOWLESS MAN."

(_Latest Irish Edition of the Old German Romance_.)

[In the course of the Debate last Monday week, Mr. DILLON said, "I was
never shadowed."]]

Irish Constabulary Vote on; Prince ARTHUR lounging on Treasury Bench;
prepares to receive Irishry; engagement opens a little flat, with
speech from JOHN ELLIS, oration from O'PICTON, and feeble flagellation
from FLYNN. Then Prince ARTHUR suddenly, unexpectedly, dashes in.
Empty benches fill up; stagnant pool stirred to profoundest depths:
ARTHUR professes to be tolerant of Irish Members, but declares himself
abhorrent of connivance of Right Hon. Gentleman above Gangway. Talks
at Mr. G., who begins visibly to bristle before our very eyes as
he sits attentive on Front Bench. ARTHUR in fine fighting trim;
Ministerial bark may be labouring in troubled waters; a suddenly
gathered storm, coming from all quarters, has surrounded, and
threatens to whelm it; MATTHEWS may be sinking under adversity; the
Postmen may pull down RAIKES; GOSCHEN is gone; OLD MORALITY'S cheerful
nature is being soured; there is talk of Dissolution, and death. But
if this is Prince ARTHUR'S last time of defending his rule in Ireland,
it shall not be done in half-hearted way. Come storm, come wrack, at
least he'll die with harness on his back.

The accused becomes the accuser. Called upon to defend himself, he
turns, and makes a slashing attack on his pursuers, carrying the
war into their camp. Scorning the Captains and Men-at-arms, he goes
straight for Mr. G., and in an instant swords clash across the table,
and shields are dinted. Nothing more delightful than to hear Mr. G.
complaining, as he rose, and took his coat off, that Prince ARTHUR
had "dragged him into the controversy." On the whole, he bore the
infliction pretty well, and went for ARTHUR neck and crop. _Business
done_.--Irish Votes in Supply.

_Tuesday_.--"I have seen nothing; I have heard nothing." Pathetic
refrain of OLD MORALITY murmured again to-night: Members wanted to
know about various things; but in OLD MORALITY'S mind, fate of the
Tithes Bill, intentions of Government touching proposed new Standing
Order, and allocation of money originally intended for Publicans, all
a blank. "We are still considering," says he.

"A most considerate Government," says WILFRID LAWSON. "Might save time
and trouble if they had at table an automatic machine; Members wanting
to know how business is to be arranged, what Bills to be dropped, and
which gone forward with, could go up to table, drop a penny in the
slot, and out would come the answer--'I have seen nothing; I have
heard nothing.'"

Seems that HANBURY has exceptional means of obtaining information.
OLD MORALITY has privately shown him Military Report with respect to
Heligoland. A confidential communication, something of the kind the
MARKISS carried on with the population of Heligoland. But HANBURY
straightway goes and tells all about it in a letter to one of his
Constituents; letter gets into papers. SUMMERS reads it out to House.
Eagerly thirsting after knowledge on military matters, SUMMERS wants
also to see the text of Report. Why should HANBURY have it all to
himself? Quartermaster-General SUMMERS would like opportunity of
studying it, and forming opinion as to accuracy of the naval and
military men who have drawn up plan. Will OLD MORALITY favour him
by placing him on an equality of confidence with HANBURY? No, OLD
MORALITY will not. Howl of indignant despair from Radicals. Never
heard of this Report before; but that HANBURY should see it, and
thereby be enabled to assure his constituents, even by nods and winks,
that it was all right about Heligoland, was more than they could put
up with. O'PICTON sat morose at the corner seat below the Gangway.
Who was HANBURY, that he should have the advantage of studying these
military documents when the grand-nephew of PICTON of Waterloo was
left out in the cold, his martial instincts unsatisfied, his knowledge
of strategical points of the British Empire unsatiated?

Another instance this of the misfortune that pursues the Government.
Little did OLD MORALITY think, when in moment of weakness he showed
this important document to HANBURY, what a hornet's nest it would
bring about his unoffending head.

_Business done_.--Irish Constabulary Vote passed.

_Thursday_.--At last OLD MORALITY has heard something and seen
something. Heard how things went on to-day in Committee on Procedure.
Worse and worse. Prince ARTHUR made curious blunder for one so alert:
introduced into draft Report admission of principle that Lords might,
an they pleased, refuse to consider in current Session, any Bill
coming up to them from Commons. HARCOURT saw his opportunity; used
it with irresistible skill and force. Committee adjourned in almost
comatose state.

This is what OLD MORALITY has heard from JOKIM, who begins to think
that, after all, life is a serious thing. What he sees is, that it
is impossible to further delay decision about business. Accordingly
announces complete surrender. All, all are gone, the old familiar
faces--Land Purchase Bill, Tithe Bill, and even this later project
of the new Standing Order. "What, all our pretty chicks?" cry the
agonised Ministerialists.

"Yes," said OLD MORALITY, mingling his tears with theirs, "our duty to
our QUEEN and Country demands this sacrifice. But," he added, bracing
up, significantly eyeing Mr. G., and speaking in dear solemn tones,
"we reserve to ourselves absolute freedom of action on a future
occasion." Opposition shouted with laughter, whilst OLD MORALITY stood
and stared, and wondered what was amusing them now. New Session is,
according to present intentions, to open in November. Will the Land
Purchase Bill be taken first? Mr. G. wants to know.

"Sir," said OLD MORALITY, "I have indicated the views of the
Government as to the Land Purchase Bill, according as those views
are held at the present time." (Cheers from the Ministerialists.)
Encouraged by this applause, and, happy thought striking him, went on:
"But it is impossible for the Government to say what circumstances may
occur to qualify those views."

Once more Opposition break into storm of laughter; OLD MORALITY again
regards them with dubious questioning gaze.

"Curious thing, TOBY," he said to me afterwards, "those fellows
opposite always laugh when I drop in my most diplomatic sentences.
It's very well for MACHIAVELLI that he didn't live in these times,
and lead House of Commons instead of the Government of the Florentine
Republic. He would never have opened his mouth without those Radicals
and Irishmen going off into a fit of laughter."

_Business done_.--Announcement that business _won't_ be done.

_Friday_.--Still harping on Irish Votes. Want to dock Prince ARTHUR'S
salary. SWIFT MACNEILL brought down model of battering-ram used at
Falcarragh; holds it up; shows it in working order; Committee much
interested; inclined to encourage this sort of thing; pleasant
interlude in monotony of denunciation of Prince ARTHUR and all his
works; no knowing what developments may not be in store; the other
night had magic-lantern performance just off Terrace; that all very
well on fine night; but when it's raining must keep indoors and
battering-ram suitable for indoor exhibition.

HAVELOCK wanted to borrow it, says he would like to show SCHWANN how
it works; but MACNEILL couldn't spare it till Irish Votes through.

New turn given to Debate by plaintive declaration from JOHN DILLON
that he has "never been shadowed." "A difficult lot to deal with,"
says ARTHUR, gazing curiously at the Shadowless Man. "If they are
shadowed, they protest; if they're not, they repine."

_Business done_.--Irish Votes in Committee.

* * * * *



"_How well your Picture bears the artificial light!_" i.e., "Couldn't
look worse than it does by daylight."

"_Mustn't keep you on the stairs. Such heaps of your friends asking
for you upstairs_;" i.e., "Got rid of him, thank goodness!"

"_Here you are at last! Been dodging you from room to room!_" i.e.,
"To keep out of your way. Caught at last, worse luck!"

"_You look as if you had just stepped out of a picture-frame!_" i.e.,
"Wish you'd step back into one!"

"_Not seen Mr. O'Kew's picture? You_ must _see it. Only three rooms
from here, and no crowd there now. So go and bring me back word what
you think_;" i.e., "Now to flee!"


"_Yes, I'm so fond of Cricket_;" i.e., "How can I find out if Oxford
or Cambridge is in?"

"_Don't move, pray_;" i.e., "If she doesn't, I shall be smothered in

"_Not the least in my way, thanks_;" i.e., "Does she think I can see
through her parasol?"

"_Pray join us at lunch! Heaps of room in the carriage_;" i.e., "Hope
she doesn't! It only holds four, and we're six already."

"_Don't they call a hit to the left like that, a Drive?_" i.e.,
"Young-rich--good-looking--worth catching--looks as if he liked 'sweet


"_Has at heart the best interests of the Borough_;" i.e., Means to
subscribe largely to all local clubs and charities.

"_The honour of representing you in Parliament_;" i.e., "The pleasure
of advertising myself."

"_I should wish to keep my mind open on that subject_;" i.e., "I
cannot afford to commit myself just yet."


"_I have never heard such an astounding argument_;" i.e., "Since I
last employed it myself."

"_To come to the real question at issue_;" i.e., "To introduce my one
strong point."

"_I do not pledge myself to these figures_;" i.e., "The next speaker
will very likely show them to be absolutely unreliable."


"_Oh, as to all that, I quite agree with you_;" i.e., "I wasn't

"_I rather understood that you were arguing, &c., &c._;" i.e., "You
are now flatly contradicting yourself."

* * * * *




_Captain_ (_to Subaltern_). Have you proved them?

_Subaltern_. Sorry, Sir, but the men say they know their places, and
it is useless labour.

_Capt._ Very well--I daresay they are right. You know we have been
told to be conciliatory. Open order! March! For inspection--port arms!


_Sergeant_ (_stepping forward, and saluting_). Beg pardon, Sir,
but the men are under the impression that you wish to examine their

_Capt._ Certainly. (_To Subaltern_). Take the rear rank, while I look
after the front.

_Serg._ Beg pardon, Sir, but the men haven't taken open order yet.
They say that they are responsible for their rifles when they have to
use them before the enemy, and you may rely upon it that they will be
all right then.

_Capt._ Very well--then we will dispense with inspection of arms.
Buttons bright, and straps in their proper places?

_Serg._ (_doubtfully_). So they say, Sir.

_Capt._ Well, then, read the orders.

_Serg._ Beg pardon, Sir, but the men say they know their duty, and
don't want to listen to no orders.

_Capt._ Well, well, I am glad to hear that they are so patriotic. Hope
that the Commanding Officer will dispense (under the circumstances)
with the formality. Anything more?

_Serg._ Privates BROWN, JONES, and ROBINSON are told off for duty on
guard, Sir.

_Capt._ March them off, then.

_Serg._ Please, Sir, they say they want to speak to you.

_Capt._ Very well--bring them up. (Sergeant _obeys_.) Now, men, what
is it?

_Private Brown_. Please, Sir, I have got a tooth-ache.

_Capt._ Very well--fall out, and go to the doctor.

_Private B._ Please, Sir, I don't want to see no doctor. I can cure

_Capt._ Very well--cure yourself. (Private _salutes, and retires._)
And now, JONES and ROBINSON, what do you want?

_Private Jones_. Please, Sir, me and ROBINSON were told off for
guard six months ago, and we think it's too much to expect us to do
sentry-go so soon.

_Capt._ Well, you know your orders.

_Private J._ Oh, that'll be all right, Sir! We'll explain to the War
Office if there's any row about it!

[The Privates salute, and retire.

_Capt._ Anything else, Sergeant?

_Sergt._ Well, no, Sir--you see the men won't do anything.

_Capt._ Under those circumstances, I suppose I have only to give the
usual words of command. Company, attention! Right turn--dismiss!

[They dismiss.


_Captain_.--Now, my men, all you have to do is to keep your heads, and
obey orders. Attention! Fix Bayonets!

_Subaltern_. Sorry to say, Sir, they have paraded without bayonets.

_Capt._ Well, that's to be regretted; although they are small enough
nowadays, in all conscience! Fire a volley! At a thousand yards!

_Sub._ Very sorry. Sir, but the men forgot to bring their ammunition.

_Capt._--Come, this is getting serious! Here's the Cavalry preparing
to charge, and we are useless! Must move 'em off! Right turn!

_Sergeant_. Please, Sir, the Company's a bit rusty, and don't know
their right hands from their left.

_Capt._ (_losing his temper_). Confound it! They don't, don't
they! Well, hang it all, I suppose they will understand this? (_To
Company._) Here, you pampered useless idiots--bolt!

[They bolt.

* * * * *

A CUTTING (transplanted from the advertisements in the _Belfast

WANTED, A PARROT: one brought up in a respectable family, and
that has not been taught naughty words or bigoted expressions,
preferred.--Apply by letter, stating price, &c.

"Preferred!" What sort of a Parrot had they been previously accustomed
to at that house?

* * * * *

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.


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