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       *       *       *       *       *

Punch, or the London Charivari

Volume 105, December 9, 1893.

_edited by Sir Francis Burnand_

       *       *       *       *       *




[Illustration: JUVENILE PESSIMISM.

_First Youthful Reprobate._ "'SAY, BILLY, 'AVE YER GOT SECHA THING AS
A BIT O' 'BACCA ABOUT YER?"

_Second Y. R._ "AIN'T 'AD SO MUCH AS A W'IFF SINCE LARST TOOSDAY
FORTNITE!"

_First Y. R._ "AH! WOT A WORLD! EH?"]

       *       *       *       *       *

OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.

A perusal of Captain LUGARD'S _Rise of our East African Empire_ fills
one with a thrill of pride at being also an Englishman. Captain LUGARD
is a Soldier of Fortune, of the type of _Quentin Durward_, only,
instead of lending his sword to a foreign king, he helps to carve
out empire for England in the very heart of Africa. This is, however,
merely an accident. He reached Massowah bent upon joining the Italian
forces then fighting against the Abyssinians. This journey was
undertaken for what, to my Baronite's peace-loving disposition, is
the oddest reason in the world. Finding himself with his regiment
at Gibraltar in December 1888, his health shattered in the Burmah
campaign, Captain LUGARD came to the conclusion that nothing would do
him good except a little fighting. So, with L50 in his belt, and no
outfit except his rifle, he got on board the first passing ship, and
sailed whithersoever it chanced to be going. This turned out to be
Naples, a fortunate stroke, since Italy was the only nation that
chanced at the moment to be at war. Captain LUGARD'S efforts to obtain
permission to join the expeditionary force, made first at Rome, and
afterwards at Dogali, were unsuccessful. He drifted into East Africa,
and finally reached Uganda, with which territory, particularly
interesting just now, much of the book is concerned. It is impossible
even to hint at the marvellous adventures through which he made his
way. They were accomplished with marvellous endurance and superb
courage, the picturesque narrative being written with charming
modesty. No more stirring story has been told in recent years than
Messrs. BLACKWOOD publish in these two handsome volumes, profusely
illustrated and enriched with maps.

A few hints to those about to marry in _Courtship and Marriage_, by
ANNIE SWAN. Miss ANNIE SWAN is a Duck!

The latest "Outs" published by "INNES" are _The Dainty Books_, a
charming series, containing some very pretty stories; that of a little
girl, always aiming at dramatic effects, in _A Hit and a Miss_, by the
Hon. EVA KNATCHBULL-HUGESSEN, is most amusingly told, and The _Lily
and the Water Lily_ is a delicate flowery romance by Mrs. A. COMYNS
CARR, in which flowers and fairies talk and act for the benefit of
some little children.

Those who have bad memories should get the _Dictionary of Quotations_,
compiled by Rev. JAMES WOOD. It is not a Stock Exchange memorandum,
but a compilation of more than the usual stock quoted from various
writers.

Distinguished for his art gems, RAPHAEL TUCK AND SON are as Artful as
ever with their variety show of cards and booklets.

In consequence of the high price of coals this winter, FAULKNER &
CO. have turned our eyes to summer flowers and pictures. Winter being
summarily dismissed, is not on the cards.

A splendid collection of _Good Words_ for 1893, published by ISBISTER,
and edited by DONALD MACLEOD, D.D.; in it will be found a serial story
by EDNA LYALL. "To Right the Wrong," which proves how wrong it is to
write,--but read this, and right through, says the

  BARON DE BOOK-WORMS.

       *       *       *       *       *

HOW TO WRITE A CHEAP CHRISTMAS NUMBER.

_From Editor to Contributor._--We are going to have a seasonable
extra, but can't go to any unnecessary expense. Want a story of the
old kind. Snow, ice, hunting, and plum pudding. Scene must be laid in
an antiquated country-house, to bring in picture of "Downderry Grange
by Moonlight." Can you manage it?

_From Contributor to Editor._--Just the thing ready to hand. Scene
Burmah, but can easily bring all the characters to Loamshire. Central
incident. Heroine run over by a wild elephant, easily changed into an
accident on the railway. Have you any blocks you can send me?

_From Editor to Contributor._--Sending you heaps of cuts by the
parcels post. Choose those you like best, and return the remainder.
Isn't railway incident rather stale? Better stick to elephant.
Possibly introduce a topical tone. Think you will find in parcel a
sketch of the bombardment of Rio. Do your best.

_From Contributor to Editor._--Thanks for packet of blocks. I have
kept half a dozen. Have found a fellow who will do for a hero. Only
drawback he's always changing his personal appearance. However, can
make him an amateur detective. Wrong about the bombardment of Rio. No
picture of that incident. Think you must have taken "Illumination of
Jammeripore, on the occasion of the Queen's Jubilee," for it. Can work
in _that_, as it will do for one of my Burmese scenes. Rough sketch
of plot. Hero in love with heroine, who is left alone in lonely
manor-house. She meets him in a circus, where he rescues her from an
infuriated elephant. Brings in three blocks nicely. Hard at work.

_From Editor to Contributor._--Afraid I must ask you to send
back blocks you have selected. Appears I promised them to another
Contributor, who had written up to them a story called, "Farmer
Foodle's Visit to the Cattle Show." However, retain the Jubilee
illumination, as he says he doesn't want it. Sending you fresh parcel.

_From Contributor to Editor._--Rather annoyed, as I was getting on
capitally. EDWIN and ANGELINA, on their escape from the mad elephant,
were seeking shelter under the Adelphi Arches. Now come a lot of
pictures of the French Revolution! However, will do my best.

_From Editor to Contributor._--You are such a good-natured fellow,
it's a shame to bother you. Find I had promised another chap those
revolutionary subjects. He has written a story up to them, called
"Nettleby's Nightmare." Have sent you a heap more in exchange.

_From Contributor to Editor._--It's really too bad! I had put EDWIN in
the Conciergerie and ANGELINA was trying to bribe ROBESPIERRE. And
now you have altered it all! And what am I to do with a picture which
seems to be an advertisement of somebody's shirts? Haven't you made
another mistake. However, I have got on as fast as I can, and put a
heap of subjects in a mad scene. EDWIN'S brain breaks down, and he has
visions of lots of things, inclusive of some wedding-cakes.

_From Editor to Contributor._--You are quite right. I _did_ make a
mistake. The last packet of blocks were put into my room by mistake.
Please return them at once--they are required for the advertisements.
Better send in your story as it is, and then I will find something
appropriate. Why _will_ you live in the country? If you were here, you
could settle the whole matter in two twos.

_From Contributor to Editor._--I stay in the country because I can't
get inspiration in town. And that's my affair, and not your's. Pardon
this tone of irritation, but I hate altering a story after once
panning out the plot. However, I have obeyed your orders. EDWIN and
ANGELINA are born in Burmah (they are cousins), and are taken to an
old English country-house. Then they are told by an old crone
the story of their parents' past. That brings in all the French
revolutionary business. Then I get in the detective part, with a
reference to the undiscovered crime in Cannon Street. You will see it
is all right.

_From Editor to Contributor._--I have read it, and heartily
congratulate you. Just what we wanted. What do you call it?

_From Contributor to Editor._--"A Lovely Devonshire Rose." It seems to
me neat and appropriate; or, as it is a story for Christmas, how will
"A Ray of Arctic Sunlight" do?

_From Editor to Contributor._--"A Ray of Arctic Sunlight" is better
for Yule Tide. I have got the very blocks for the illustrations.
Belonged to a book called _Travels in the Soudan and Syria_. Could not
have found anything more appropriate if I had searched for centuries.
I enclose a little cheque, and offer thousands of thanks for all
the trouble you have taken. It is no idle form when I wish you the
happiest of Christmasses and the most prosperous of New Years!

_From Contributor to Editor._--Reciprocation of seasonable
compliments. But I say--hang it--you might have made it guineas!

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: PARLIAMENTARY FOOTBALL MATCH.--"FOWLER'S FINE
SINGLE-HANDED RUN."--(_See page 267._)]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: A DILEMMA.

_Young Sportsman_ (_to his small nephew, the Parson's son_). "HELLO!
JIMMIE! WHY DON'T YOU COME OUT ON THE PONY? YOU'LL NEVER BE A MAN IF
YOU DON'T HUNT."

_Jimmie._ "NOW LISTEN TO THAT, MOTHER! THERE'S UNCLE JACK SAYS I SHALL
NEVER BE A MAN IF I _DON'T_. THERE'S FATHER SAYS IT'S CRUELTY IF I
_DO_. THEN OLD JOHN SAYS I SHOULD BE LAMING THE PONY; AND YOU SAY THE
PONY WOULD BE LAMING ME! WHAT AM I TO DO?"]

       *       *       *       *       *

"A SINGLE-HANDED RUN."

    ["It is interesting to watch the methods of obstruction....
    Progress (with the Parish Councils Bill) has been slow enough,
    but it is impeded with an artfulness which indicates a
    certain division of labour among the different sections of
    the Unionist army. The first section includes the Liberal
    Unionists, whose _role_ is ... to take no overt part in the
    game of mere talkativeness; the second is the official Tories,
    who mostly hate the Bill ... and lose no opportunity of
    expressing a guarded but thoroughly sincere distrust of
    every portion of it; the third section consists of the
    go-as-you-please Lowtherites--the mere guerillas, who
    are allowed to obstruct as much and as long as they
    please."--_"House and Lobby" in the "Daily Chronicle."_]

    (_Rough, and rather amateurish, reporter's mems. picked up on
    the St. Stephen's Football Grounds during the progress of the
    big match, Midlothian United_ v. _Unionists. See illustration,
    p. 266._)

Football at St. Stephen's looking up! Fine exponents of the Rugby
game. Strong combinations, "Midlothian United" and "Unionists" met to
decide great--postponed--fixture. Though weather favourable, failed
somehow to attract the large crowd usual at matches between these two
"sides" of far-famed amateurs. Enthusiastic followers of the game,
however, who turned up in adequate numbers, rewarded by sight of good,
if slow and unexciting game. Both sides well represented, and the
homesters, who won the toss, played first half from pavilion end of
ground, having wind, which was blowing across ground, a trifle in
their favour.

"Midlothian United," famous team, better known as "GLADSTONE'S Men,"
play well together, and are strong lot, though less speedy perhaps
than their opponents. "Unionists" indeed (made up from two admirable
teams at one time opponents) an extremely clever, not to say artful,
combination. As pick of anciently opposed sides, wonderful how well
they are together, and how unselfishly they play the game. "Midlothian
United" team (which has undergone numerous changes of late) also
fairly well together, and admirably captain'd.

From kick-off, ball was well returned, and play settled down in
homesters' territory. Later, game of very equal character, each side
looking like scoring, but nothing definite obtained before half time.
Game then ruled a bit slow. Showing good combination, the visitors'
forwards caused home-side some anxiety. Forwards, however, played
very self-denying game, and game largely confined to the half
and three-quarter backs, and in this visitors had advantage, as
"Midlothian United" do not so greatly shine in this phase of game,
whereas, among their opponents, BOWLES, LONG, LOWTHER, and one or two
more, very smart and tricky. FOWLER, however, the great Midlothian
forward, played with fine combination of energy and judgment, made
some fine runs, and proved vastly effective in scrum. BALFOUR,
GOSCHEN, and H. JAMES, played very artfully indeed, and "tackled"
strongly, and although that mighty forward CHAMBERLAIN less prominent
than usual, still, in doggerel of football-field, it may be said that,

  JOE, the Brum,
  Shines in scrum.

Later BOWLES, TOMLINSON, STANLEY, LEIGHTON, LOWTHER, and HANBURY,
were very active for the "Unionists," though one or two of them seemed
sometimes "within measurable distance" of being pulled up for fouls.
COLLINGS once made tracks but failed to pass RIGBY, who throughout
played a sound game at back for the Midlothianites. Not to be denied,
the "Unionists" again advanced to the attack, LONG and LEIGHTON
especially being conspicuous. FOWLER deprived latter, but BALFOUR and
CHAMBERLAIN rushing up relieved. Fast and even play then became
order, the ball being taken from one end of ground to other with great
rapidity. FOWLER broke up a determined attack by "Unionists." From a
hot scrum he got possession, and put in a fine single-handed run right
down centre of ground, closely pursued by those determined tacklers,
BALFOUR, JAMES, GOSCHEN, and the redoubtable Brum, when----

    [_Here the reporter's mems. abruptly terminate, and it is
    presumed they were dropped--actually or metaphorically--by the
    evidently amateur scribe._

       *       *       *       *       *

DIABOLUS EX MACHINA.--Dynamiting Anarchism.

       *       *       *       *       *

UNDER THE ROSE.

(_A Story in Scenes._)

SCENE XVIII.--_The Drawing-room, as before. The door opens, and_
PH[OE]BE _appears_.

_Ph[oe]be_ (_to_ Mrs. TOOVEY). If you please, ma'am, Mrs.
CUMBERBATCH----

_Mrs. Toovey_ (_in a rapid whisper_). Not here, PH[OE]BE! Show her
into the study--anywhere. Say I'll come!

_Ph[oe]be._ She said she hadn't time to come in, m'm; she left her
compliments, and just called to let you know the Banana Meeting will
be next Friday. And oh, if you please, m'm, I wished to ask you
about that dress you wore last Saturday. I've tried everything, and
I _can't_ get the smell of tobaccer out of it, do what I _will_, m'm.
(_To herself._) That'll teach her not to accuse me of hiding followers
downstairs!

_Althea_ (_to herself_). Mine had to be left all night in a thorough
draught. Where _could_ Mamma have been, unless----?

_Mrs. Toov._ (_with dignity_). I came home in a smoky cab, and you
know perfectly well this is not the place to ask me such questions.
Leave the room!

_Ph[oe]be_ (_to herself, as she leaves_). A smoky cab indeed! There's
no smoke without fire--as Master will find out before long!

_Charles._ Had your cabman been giving a smoking party inside his
fourwheeler, or what, Aunt?

_Mrs. Toov._ I don't--yes, I believe he had. He apologised for it;
it--it was his birthday. (_To herself._) Oh, dear me, _what_ makes me
tell these dreadful stories?

_Mr. Toovey._ His birthday! Why, if you remember, CORNELIA, you _said_
the man had been drinking. That would _account_ for it! But did I
understand there was to be _another_ Zenana Meeting, my love? That
seems _rather_ soon, does it not, after having one only last Saturday!

_Mrs. Toov._ (_to herself_). I _must_ go on, or he'll suspect
something. (_Aloud, severely._) And why not, Pa--pray, why not? You
know what an energetic creature Mrs. CUMBERBATCH is! _Can_ we do too
much for those poor benighted heathen women? And there was a great
deal that we had to leave unfinished the other evening.

_Mr. Toov._ Dear me, and you were home so late, too!

_Mrs. Toov._ Perhaps you disbelieve my word, Pa? If you do, _say_ so,
and I shall know what to think! Though _what_ I've done to deserve
such suspicion----

_Mr. Toov._ (_astounded_). My own love, I never for one single
moment---- Hem, the wife of Caesar is above suspicion.

_Mrs. Toov._ (_with relief_). I should hope so, THEOPHILUS; not that
you are _Caesar_--but there, that is enough of a very painful subject.
Let us say no more about it.

_Curphew_ (_to himself_). I'm more certain every moment that this
immaculate matron is lying like a prospectus, but what can I do? I've
no proof, and if I had, I couldn't bring myself to---- Well, I must
wait, that's all.

_Mrs. Toov._ What _I_ should like to know is, why Mr. CURPHEW still
remains here after we have distinctly informed him that we do not
desire his further acquaintance?

CURPH. Before I go, let me say this: that I have no intention of
giving up your daughter until she gives up me. I am in a position to
marry and support her, and if you refuse your consent, you will only
reduce us to the painful necessity of doing without it.

    [ALTHEA _intimates her entire acquiescence in this ultimatum_.

_Mrs. Toov._ We will never consent to give our daughter to a notorious
music-hall singer--_never_!

_Curph._ That objection is easily met. I am no longer a music-hall
singer. I have left the profession for ever; not that I consider
it any disgrace to belong to it, but I prefer to live by my pen in
future. (_To_ Mr. T.) I appeal to _you_, Sir. You had no objection
before; what can you have now?

    [Mr. T. _opens his lips inaudibly_.

[Illustration: "Well, Ma'am, this is the _last_ place I expected to
find you in!"]

_Mrs. Toov._ Tell him, Pa, that in the circle in which _we_ move, the
remotest connection with--with a music-hall would be justly considered
as an indelible disgrace.

_Charles_ (_sotto voce_). No, hang it, Uncle! It's no business of
mine, and I'm not going to shove my oar in; but still you know as well
as I do that _you_ can't decently take that line, whatever Aunt may
do!

_Mrs. Toov._ I heard you, CHARLES. So, Pa, there _is_ something you
have been hiding from me? I felt positive there was some mystery about
that box. Now I _will_ know it. ALTHEA, leave us!

_Mr. Toov._ There is nothing she had better not hear--_now_, my love.
It--it's true I would rather have kept it from you, but I'd better
tell you--I'd better tell you. The fact is that, without being in the
least aware of it--I was under the impression I was investing in
a gold-mine--I--I became the proprietor of several shares in the
Eldorado Music-hall.

_Curph._ (_surprised_). You, Sir! you were a shareholder all the time!
Is it possible?

_Mr. Toov._ (_bewildered_). Why, but you _knew_! I consulted you at
the Junction about whether I ought to retain the shares or not, and
you advised me to go and judge for myself!

_Curph._ I assure you I thought we were talking about _my_ connection
with the Eldorado, not yours.

_Mrs. Toov._ So, Pa, by your own story you found yourself in
possession of those horrible wicked shares, and you actually hesitated
what to do! You considered it necessary to--to visit the scene!

_Mr. Toov._ Indeed. I never actually went, my love. And--and Mr.
CURPHEW assured me the establishment was quite respectably conducted,
under the supervision of the London County Council; and then there
was the dividend--seventy per cent. on only five hundred pounds--three
hundred and fifty a year, CORNELIA; it--it seemed a pity to give it
up!

_Mrs. Toov._ (_to herself, impressed_). Three hundred and fifty a
year! Why we can keep our carriage on it! (_Aloud._) Well, Pa, of
course--as you bought the shares under a misapprehension--and
I'm bound to say _this_ for the Eldorado, that there was nothing
positively objectionable in the performance so far as _I_
could--(_correcting herself hastily_)--have ever been given to
understand--why, I'm the last to blame you.

_Mr. Toov._ (_overjoyed_). Ah, my dear love! I scarcely dared to hope
for this leniency. But I never would have gone--oh, never. Why, I
could never have looked you in the face again if I had!

_Mrs. Toov._ (_with a twinge_). That _depends_, Pa; it is quite
possible to go to such places, and yet----

_Mr. Toov._ Yes, but you see I _didn't_ go, my dear. I found I
couldn't really bring myself to visit it when it came to the point, so
I went to call on LARKINS instead, as it was on his advice I had taken
the shares, and I told him my difficulty, and he quite sympathised
with my scruples, and most good-naturedly offered to take them off my
hands.

_Mrs. Toov._ But surely, THEOPHILUS, you never gave up three hundred
and fifty a year without so much as consulting Me!

_Charles._ You can't count on such dividends as a certainty, you know,
Aunt, and I've no doubt Uncle got rid of them at a very good figure;
they've been going up like sky-rockets!

_Mrs. Toov._ (_mollified_). Of course if your Uncle did _that_, I----

_Mr. Toov._ Well, you see, my love, CHARLES very properly pointed out
to me that there was no moral difference between that and keeping the
shares, and--and LARKINS took the same view himself; so (I'm sure,
CORNELIA, you will consider I have only done what was my strict duty!)
I agreed to surrender the shares for just what I paid for them--five
hundred pounds--and my conscience is clear.

_Mrs. Toov._ If it's no clearer than your _head_, Pa---- I never heard
of such downright Quixotism! As if _you_ could be held responsible; as
if anyone here need _know_! I call it folly--sheer ruinous folly!

_Ph[oe]be_ (_opening the door--to_ Mr. T.). A young gentleman to see
you, Sir; says he comes from Mr. LARKINS, with a paper to be filled
up. I've shown him into the study, Sir.

_Mr. Toov._ Ah, to be sure, yes; tell him I'll come. (_To_ Mrs. T.)
It's about those shares; LARKINS said he would send a clerk down to
complete the transfer.

_Mrs. Toov._ So it isn't completed _yet_? Mr. LARKINS has been trying
to get the better of you, Pa; but it's not too late, fortunately.
(_To_ PH[OE]BE.) Show the young man in here. _I_ wish to see him about
this business. (_As_ PH[OE]BE _goes_.) I shall insist on the fair
market value of the shares being paid before you put your signature
to any document whatever; leave this entirely to me, Pa. I _think_ I
shall be a match for any young----

_Ph[oe]be_ (_returning_). Mr. JANNAWAY.

_Mr. Jann._ (_to_ Mr. TOOVEY). From Mr. LARKINS, Sir. Brought a
transfer-deed for your signature.

_Mrs. Toov._ (_to herself_). Gracious goodness! It's the man whose
ears I boxed at the Eldorado! What _shall_ I do?

    [_She seizes the current number of "The Quiver," and retires
    behind it._

_Alth._ (_to herself_). He's _awfully_ like the young man in that box
on Saturday! If Mamma really _was_ there! (_She glances at_ Mrs.
T., _in whose hands "The Quiver" is rustling audibly_.) Ah, then I
_wasn't_ mistaken. Oh, how dreadful if he should recognise her!

_Mr. Toov._ My signature? Yes, yes, yes, to be sure, just so; but the
fact is, I--I've been thinking over the matter, and--and--but that
lady by the window will explain my views.

_Mrs. Toov._ (_in a muffled voice, from behind "The Quiver"_). I--I
shall do nothing of the sort. I--I'm busy. Sign whatever the young man
wants, Pa, and don't bother _me_ about it!

_Mr. Jann._ (_to himself_). That's rum. Where have I heard that voice?
And "_Pa_," too! _Very_ rum!

_Mr. Toov._ Oh, very well, my love; I only thought--but I'll sign.
I'll sign. Only, I rather fancy you're sitting just in front of the
writing materials, my dear.

_Mr. Jann._ (_gallantly_). Allow _me_! (_He goes towards_ Mrs. T.'s
_chair. "The Quiver" treacherously collapses at the critical moment;
their eyes meet._) Well, ma'am, this is the _last_ place I expected
to find you in; after 'unting for you the entire Sunday afternoon all
over Upper Tooting, too!

    [_General sensation. Tableau._

END OF SCENE XVIII.

       *       *       *       *       *

THE TYRANNY OF THE UNSUITABLE.

(_A Fragmentary Christmas Tragedy._)

[Illustration]

_The atmosphere of the chamber is heavy with a portentous sense of
paralysing dread; the fire cowers in the grate, cold at its very
heart; the gas-flame shudders with a shuddering not caused by water in
the pipes._ Mr. DREDFERLEY CORNERD, _seated in his arm-chair, glares
at his newspaper with preoccupied and unreceptive eye; while ever
and again his hand passes nervously over his care-lined brow_. Mrs.
DREDFERLEY CORNERD _glances furtively at him through the perforations
of her fancy-work, held between tremulous fingers; her eye is
dilated, while her pale brow is puckered by the lines that whisper of
prescience of impending calamity_. Mr. DREDFERLEY CORNERD _feels
that his wife's eye is upon him; he strives to avoid her gaze; but,
fascinated, yields; and their eyes meet_.

_Mrs. Dredferley Cornerd_ (_huskily_). JAMES----

    [_Thrice he raised his outspread hands in wild, unvoiced
    deprecation; he clutches at his throat, as if suffocating;
    then buries his face in his trembling hands, and, in a hollow,
    far-off gurgle, says "Go on!" She goes to him, and smoothes
    his throbbing brow._

_Mrs. D. C._ JAMES, let us nerve ourselves to it once more! Let us
remember DUTY! Come; we will plunge at once into the thick of it. What
is JANE to have?

_Mr. Dredferley Cornerd_ (_hurling himself from his chair, his
eye ablaze with unspeakable hate_). Nothing--a bottle of poison--a
dynamite bomb--the cat-o'-nine tails! Hear me, MARY-ANN. One year ago,
at this very season that brings this haunting, maddening torture
of the selection of Christmas presents, my sister JANE sent us that
ormolu clock which at this very moment glares upon us from that
mantel-piece! I loathe ormolu. Had we not laboured and struggled, you
and I, to furnish this, our dining-room, in perfect taste, all in
old oak and Flemish pottery. Then, in the very moment of our triumph,
arrived that loathsome clock of ormolu, and crushed our whole design!
It _had_ to go there, lest we gave offence. I hate my sister JANE!

_Mrs. D. C._ Well, let us, for the moment, then, dismiss your sister
JANE. Now what are we to give to JOSEPH?

_Mr. D. C._ MARY-ANN, I loathe that man! Well knowing how I hated
summer-houses--abominations filled with creeping horrors--he gave me
one just seven years ago. It makes our garden hideous to this day; I
will _not_ speak of him----

_Mrs. D. C._ Well, then, the JONESES. They gave _us_----

_Mr. D. C._ MARY-ANN, I know they did. We have to eat them still
whenever they drop in to meals. A lamprey makes me--(_shudders_) ugh!
They give us seven barrels twice a year! No, MARY-ANN; I will not
threaten you, but breathe their name no more.

_Mrs. D. C._ Well, put them off. But now there's Mrs. BLENKINSOP.

_Mr. D. C._ The cat! She gave us six outrageous oleographs, all green
and yellow, framed in blazing gold, and said we ought to hang them in
the hall. Our hall is Japanese; we'd left six spaces for kakemonos of
subdued design, and there we had to hang those oleographs. I loathe
our hall--I never enter it--I come round always by the garden door!
Woman, you madden me! You'll mention next the hated name of Cousin
ICHABOD----!

_Mrs. D. C._ I was about to.

_Mr. D. C._ Cousin ICHABOD presented to me, fifteen years ago, a pair
of silver brushes. At the time I had but little hair; that very year
I lost the rest. Still those accursed brushes mockingly gibber on my
dressing-table. They _must_ be there, for Cousin ICHABOD drops in at
unexpected moments! Once I hurled them from the window. One of them
caught ICHABOD, approaching up the path, over the eye, and raised a
livid bump. I writhe with detestation of his name. Would that
that brush---- Unhand me, MARY-ANN; see, I am calm. For years have
thoughtless friends encumbered us with Christmas presents quite
unsuited to our tastes and our requirements. What do we want with
seven berceaunettes (our children being two), with fifteen inkstands,
with twenty biscuit boxes, and thirty-five illuminated hanging
almanacks? For years we've played the shameless hypocrite, pretending
to adore these gruesome gifts; and now I bid you mark me, MARY-ANN; I
mean REVENGE. Yes, let us to the council, and plan what gifts to such
and such; the most unsuitable that we can hit on. Here's PARKER'S
list, and PORRINGE'S, and SPRITELEY'S. Come, here are wedding dresses;
sister JANE is sixty and a spinster; I will send her a wedding
gown--(_hysterically_) a dozen wedding gowns! Write, MARY-ANN, to
PARKER for a dozen. Then JOSEPH. JOSEPH, ha! I have it; JOSEPH goes
mad with fright on passing near a dog. To-morrow I will seek the Lost
Dogs' Home, and pick out fifty of the savagest--all bloodhounds, mark
you! I will drag the pack to JOSEPH'S door, and leave them with the
maid. And now the JONESES. Silence, MARY-ANN! I do not need cold water
on my temples! You shall _not_ stroke my head, and murmur "Shish!" You
shall _not_ scream for cook, and BLENKINSOP, and GEORGE, and JANE. I'm
calm. The JONESES--hurr! Let me get at them! Back--unhand me! Ha!----

[Illustration]

    [_He swoons. Curtain._

       *       *       *       *       *

TRIOLET.

(_Written whilst you wait._)

  A woman who's late
    Is, of course, in the fashion.
  She's quite up-to-date,
  The woman who's late.
  The man has to wait,
    And swears in his passion.
  A woman who's late,
    Is, of course, in the fashion.

       *       *       *       *       *

WEATHER WISDOM.

  "_Hark! I hear the Asses bray_,
  _We shall have some rain to-day_."
  So the nursery jingle goes,
  Is it truthful? Goodness knows!
  But if vocal donkey's strain
  Brings indeed the daily rain
  'Tis no marvel altogether
  We are worried with wet weather.

       *       *       *       *       *

A "Wonder-Kid."

    [A licence was recently applied for to enable NELLIE WICK,
    aged eight years, to shave in public. Mr. DE RUTZEN, in
    granting the application, remarked that "the child was not
    likely to suffer any injury from the performance." Let us hope
    no one else will, either.]

  The latest infant-prodigy is literally a _shaver_,
    A little lady-Figaro, who'll _raze_ you like the wind!
  Though brave may be this barber-child, her victims will be braver--
    A _kind_ of _wounder_, possibly, might prove this "_wunderkind_!"

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: LEAVING THE PARENTAL NEST.

_The Bride's Father (to Bridegroom)._ "OH, JOHN, YOU'LL TAKE _CARE_ OF
HER, _WON'T_ YOU!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

THE MODERN MEDUSA.

    ["The views and objects of the 'Commonweal' group of
    Anarchists are published in a journal called the _Commonweal_
    ... and by reference to which it appears that they applaud
    and justify the wholesale massacre of innocent persons as a
    legitimate method for the attainment of their ends."--_Mr.
    Asquith._]

  Gorgon Medusa of the snaky locks,
  Whose loathly lair was 'midst the wave-washed rocks,
    Thou wert less hideous than our monstrous, mad
  Belated birth of Nemesis and Nox.

  Gendered of vengeful hatred and blind wrath,
  Crawling malign in Civilisation's path!
    Venomous vermin, of relentless fang,
  Foul spawn of wrong, oppression's aftermath.

  Dark is the monstrous mystery of thy birth,
  Sinister scourge of a time-wearied earth;
    But all men's hands against thee must be raised,
  Foe of all love and murderer of all mirth.

  Negation of all progress, hope's chill blight,
  Black bringer-back of Chaos and Old Night;
    The one unfaltering foe of humankind[A]
  Which all that's human to the death, must fight.

  With thee weak tenderness must make no truce,
  Parley with thee were pity's mere abuse.
    The hand that halts, the sword that shrinks or spares,
  But lets the Gorgon's snaky offspring loose.

  Gorgon or Demogorgon! "Dreaded name!"[B]
  Yet dread of thee were but disastrous shame.
    Fear is thy hope, and, fronting thee, to _fear_,
  Is but to court disaster and disfame.

  Thou crawling horror of the coward soul!
  Thy snaking convolutions furtive roll.
    To track thy trail, to face thy stony glare,
  And smite and slay is general duty's goal.

  Civilisation armed with trenchant Law
  Must play the Perseus with thy monster maw,
    And all mankind be banded in the quest
  Of the worst enemy mankind e'er saw.

  The massacre of innocents, the blind
  Blasting of the best hopes of humankind;
    Hate's indiscriminate earthquake, letting loose
  Of all the fiends of blood, and fire, and wind:

  Sheer wreck of hearth and altar, home and State,
  Rending of reverenced ties, love desolate,
    Order submerged; these are the Gorgon's hopes,
  Which Law must frustrate ere 'tis all too late.

  Smite Perseus! Wield the unhesitating brand
  With steadfast heart and with unfaltering hand;
    And from the grosser Gorgon of our day
  Free, in Humanity's cause, each harried land!

    [Footnote A: "_Hostis humani generis._"]

    [Footnote B: "The dreaded name of Demogorgon."

      _Paradise Lost._]

       *       *       *       *       *

AN ADVERTISER'S APPEAL.

    ["Mr. CAINE (who advocates prohibiting open-air advertisements
    in rural places) forgets that a good many people are unable to
    see that an advertisement of soap and pills mars the beauty of
    a landscape."--_Illustrated News._]

  Oh, Mister CAINE--not Sugar-CAINE, but bitter
    'Gainst alcohol and opium and field-signs--
  Why put poor Advertisers in a twitter
    By laying thus hard legislative lines
  In the defence of merely pastoral Beauty,
  By levying on Field-Signs a fine or duty?

  Good gracious! what _are_ meadows, rocks and trees
    Compared with the necessity--_absolute_, Sir!--
  Of advertising Silks and Soaps and Teas,
    POPKINS'S Pickles, BOODLE'S Bottled Fruit, Sir?
  Or how should he King Mammon's heavy hand 'scape
  Who'd sacrifice great L _s. d._ to--Landscape?

  A Nuisance? Nonsense!!! Posters and Placards,
    In field or forest, serve the Public better
  Than all the blatant bosh of bleating bards.
    The Advertising Art would you thus fetter?
  What _is_ the worth of rivers, rooks, and hills
  Compared with SMUGSON'S Soaps and PODGER'S Pills?

  Soap, Sir, means Cleanliness, and Pills mean Health;
    And Sanitation's surely more than Scenery!
  Subordinate the claims of Health--and Wealth--
    To sentimental love of rural greenery?
  No, Mister CAINE. I wonder _you're_ not wiser,
  Pan is at present the great Advertiser!

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: THE MODERN MEDUSA.]


       *       *       *       *       *

NEW LIGHTS FOR OLD.

On religious instruction being entirely omitted from the School Board
curriculum, the following suggestions towards the formation of a moral
and physical catechism may possibly be of use:--

_Question._ There was at one time much debating about a so-called
"Conscience Clause." Now I will ask you what are we to understand by
the word "conscience"?

_Answer._ It is only a name for the action of the liver in its various
states.

_Q._ What is a "troubled conscience"?

_A._ It may arise from indigestion, or from an east wind, or from many
other causes which affect different persons, with differing livers, in
a variety of ways.

_Q._ In what sense do you recognise "conscience" as "an inward
monitor"?

_A._ Its recognition as such depends on the extent of each
individual's acquaintance with his own particular physical
organisation as differentiated from that of others. In some cases the
"voice of the inward monitor" may point to blue pill, and in others it
may indicate moderated remedies.

_Q._ What is the moral law?

_A._ The so-called moral law is purely hygienic. Perfect health is
perfect morality. _Mens sana in corpore sano._ "Law," so-called, is
for the protection of the "good livers," and for the punishment of the
"evil livers." _Voila tout!_

       *       *       *       *       *

THE ONLY PROFESSION WHERE THERE _ISN'T_ "THE 'DEVIL' TO PAY."--The
Legal.

       *       *       *       *       *

EUROPEAN CRISIS AVERTED!!

[Illustration: _"Touche!"_ Victorious Bancroft and Victorien Sardou.]

_Latest Intelligence._--We are glad to be able to assure our readers
that, in spite of relations between the two parties being somewhat
strained, it is not apprehended that serious international
complications will arise out of "_L'affaire Bancroft-Sardou_;" though
it _is_ now pretty generally known that so grave a catastrophe has
only been averted by the sudden change in the French Ministry.

       *       *       *       *       *

DEPTFORD HATH ITS DARLING.

A LAY OF LOYALTY.

    ["Mr. DARLING, of Deptford, considers it his mission to
    chastise the HOME SECRETARY."--_Illustrated News._]

AIR--_"Charlie is my Darling."_

  Deptford hath its DARLING, its DARLING, its DARLING!
    O! Deptford hath its DARLING, the great Cav-il-ler!

  If ASQUITH needs stern warning,
    Or MORLEY wants the spur,
  They'll find it in our DARLING,
    The great Ca-vil-ler!
      O! Deptford hath its DARLING, &c.

  As he comes striding up the House,
    GLADSTONE shrinks like a cur;
  He knows _his_ fluency must fail
    To foil the Ca-vil-ler!
      O! Deptford hath its DARLING, &c.

  "With Liberty Caps upon their heads
    Shall Anarchists confer
  On treason in Trafalgar Square?"
    Demands the Ca-vil-ler!
      O! Deptford hath its DARLING, &c.

  "Now stand aside, you Liberal loon!
    _I_'m going to raise a stir;
  I'll harry you--at Question time!"
    Quoth the great Ca-vil-ler!
      O! Deptford hath its DARLING, &c.

  And it's by the Square's damp fountains,
    And it's in their Press, with pen,
  Tr-r-raitors daren't sputter treason,
    For DARLING, best of men!

  Deptford hath its DARLING, its DARLING, its DARLING!
    O! Deptford hath its DARLING, the great Cav-il-ler!

       *       *       *       *       *

ANACREONTICS FOR ALL.

(_Being Bacchanalian Ballads for the use of all Professions, Trades,
Crafts and Callings, and Convivial Carols for the Classes, the Masses,
and the Lasses. By Tom Moore, Junior._)

THE DOCTOR'S DITTY.

AIR--"_Here's to the Maiden of bashful fifteen!_"

  Here's to the patient of hectic fifteen!
    Here's to asthmatical fifty!
  Here's to the port-soaked dyspeptic old dean!
    And here's to the slop-swigger thrifty!

                _Chorus--_

            Let the dose pass,--
            Drink, lad or lass!
  I'll warrant ye'll soon love the (medicine) glass!

  Here's to the charmer whom wrinkles surprise!
    Now to the maid who has none, Sir!
  Here's to the girl with two lungs of full size,
    And here's to the nymph with but one, Sir!

                _Chorus--_

            _Whoe_'er they be,
            Send 'em to me!
  I warrant they'll prove an excuse for a fee!

  Here's to "Old Purple," with port in his toe!
    Now to him who's gone saffron on sherry!
  Here's to the masher whose mind's on the go
    Through making nocturnally merry!

                _Chorus--_

            Let the dose pass!
            Drink, lad or lass.
  I warrant I'll prove there's _some_ use in my glass.

  For let 'em be gamesome or let 'em be grim,
    Ill or hearty, I care not a feather;
  Fill 'em--with physic--bang up to the brim,
    And let us all dose 'em together!

                _Chorus--_

            _Howe_'er they be,
            Send 'em to me!
  I warrant I'll find some excuse for a fee!

       *       *       *       *       *

A FINE OLD GIRL AND UNCOMMONLY WELL PRESERVED is _The Bohemian Girl_
by the BALFE and BUNN family, whose Jubilee, November 27th, was
celebrated by the chivalrous Sir DRURIOLANUS at the Good Old House
from which he takes his Latinised title, conferred upon him some years
since as a reward of merit (not PAUL MERRITT, dramatist, and once upon
a time _collaborateur_ with PETTITT) by _Mr. Punch_. The fair Bohemian
seemed "going strong," and as lively as ever. _Ad multos annos!_

       *       *       *       *       *

NEW VERSION.--An amendment has been proposed in our National Anthem.
It is suggested that instead of "Knavish," we should substitute
"Navy-ish," when the line in question would read "Frustrate their
Navy-ish tricks," which may be applied to a Home Governmental policy
or to that of our Continental possible foes, just as circumstances may
require.

       *       *       *       *       *

TO MARJORIE.

(_An Imaginary Name of a Child Friend._)

  Dear little maid, who in the Circle train
    Sat so demurely, daintily arrayed
  In sweet old-fashioned garment of delane--
                    Dear little maid.

  Your merry smile, your laugh all unafraid
    Made me forget the daily stress and strain.
  To earth your childish prattle quickly laid
    The phantoms that to middle age bring pain,
  And life seemed more attractive, not so staid.
    Oh! some day soon ride with me once again,
                    Dear little maid.

       *       *       *       *       *

"HOW ARE YOU OFF FOR ----?"--Messrs. A. and F. P-RS, a name which
rhymes to the first and final word of the line, "Tears, idle Tears"
(by the way, what a delightful song for a Radical to sing, "_Peers,
idle Peers_!"), write to _Mr. Punch_, informing him of the supreme
excellence of the P-RS' Christmas Number, asking him to notice it, as
he probably would do, in his pages, and adding that "_it is already
out of print_." Then what is the use of drawing attention to it? Of
course, if being out of print makes it the more valuable, then lucky
are the possessors of original specimens, and well indeed are they off
for the material for which the Upper House or House of P-RS is famed.

       *       *       *       *       *

THE SILK INDUSTRY (_not from the Board of Trade Returns_).--Mr. J.
F. LEESE, Q.C., M.P., appointed Recorder of Manchester. _Mr. Punch_
wishes this capital cricketer a long innings, and may Manchester have
a LEESE that will run for any number of years without expiring.

       *       *       *       *       *

A CHANCE FOR THE BRIEFLESS.

DEAR MR. PUNCH,--I am a briefless barrister, and I wish to throw
myself upon your generosity by asking you to allow me to make a
suggestion which will be of great public interest, and incidentally
help me to make my fortune. All London to-day is placarded with a
thrilling picture of the Law-Court Scene in _A Woman's Revenge_. My
suggestion is--Why not have _real_ barristers? The theatre to-day is
nothing if not realistic. Drury Lane has its race-horses, Ibsenity
its ghosts--why should not the Adelphi take the town by storm with its
barristers? The actor may, no doubt does, act the part admirably, but
who can contend that he can possibly do so as well as could a real,
actual barrister, who would know that he was striving not merely for
the applause of the moment, but for the guinead briefs of the future?
If Messrs. GATTI will undertake to accept the plan, I will undertake
to provide the barristers. The programme would then run:--

    _Sir John Blacklock, Q.C._ (_Counsel for the Crown_) ... Mr.
    A. B., 102, Temple Gardens, Temple, E.C.

What we briefless barristers want in these hard times is merely the
chance. I look to Messrs. GATTI to give it to us. I ought to add that
the above address, though, in point of fact, it is my own, is given
purely by way of illustration, and in no way to advertise myself,
though should anyone wish to consult--again, of course, purely with
reference to this suggestion--the way to my chambers from the Strand
is down Middle Temple Lane, whilst the Temple Station is just three
minutes' walk. I am, Sir, your obliged servant.

  L. ERNED COUNSEL.
  _November 30th, 1893._

       *       *       *       *       *

No second editions for Mrs. R. She says "she'll see the _First Mrs.
Tanqueray_, or none at all!"

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: THE SAFE SIDE.

(_Problem set:--To flatter a Poet's vanity and do no violence to your
conscience._)

_Pownceby_ (_a minor poet_). "ES, HAVE YOU SEEN MY LAST VOLUME, LADY
VERA--_THROBS AND THROES?_"

_Lady Vera._ "OH, YES, I HAVE."

_Pownceby._ "AND WHAT DID YOU THINK?"

_Lady Vera._ "OH, I THOUGHT--THAT YOU HAD NEVER DONE ANYTHING
BETTER."]

       *       *       *       *       *

THE LOST SMELL.

    [The Queen's Hall is at present free from the smell of
    cooking hitherto "the inseparable accompaniment of orchestral
    music."--_Times, Nov. 27._]

  Seated to-day at a concert,
    I am weary and ill at ease,
  Though LLOYD and ALBANI are singing,
    Or anyone else you please;
  I know not what they are doing,
      For something is wanting there--
  That old-fashioned concert-hall odour
    Which throbbed in the scented air.

  It flooded the place, like one of
    BEETHOVEN'S sonatas might,
  And it lay on my fevered spirit
    With a touch of wild delight;
  It quieted pain and sorrow,
    It thrilled the enraptured sense,
  A song without words--or music--
    That travelled one knew not whence;
  It linked all delightful odours
    Into one perfect peace,
  And trembled away into soup-plates
    As if it were loth to cease.

  I have sought--but I seek it vainly--
    That one lost smell sublime,
  Which came from adjacent kitchens
    At dinner or supper time.
  It may be that CHOPIN is severed
    From scents which with music we group,
  It may be that SCHUBERT is parted
    For ever from odours of soup.

       *       *       *       *       *

The Belfry of Bruges Overlooked.

    ["A more silent city than Bruges does not
    exist."--_Standard._]

  What? Bruges a silent city!
    Now, nay a thousand times!
  If deaf, accept our pity;
    If not,--oh dear! those chimes!

       *       *       *       *       *

NEW LEGAL WORK. (_By the author of "In Silk Attire."_)--"The Briefless
Junior; or, Plenty of Stuff to Spare."

       *       *       *       *       *

ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.

EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M.P.

_House of Commons, Monday, November 27._--Another night with Parish
Councils Bill, dull as usual, save for one thrilling moment. Happened
just before dinner. HENRY FOWLER accepted Amendment making responsible
for expenses or damage those who had summoned meetings in Parish
School. Sudden tumult below Gangway in Radical camp; Question put from
Chair that Amendment be added to Bill. LOGAN raised stentorian shout
of "No!" Chairman repeated Question; hubbub increased; amid it LOGAN
seen waving arms aloft like windmill that had suddenly remembered an
appointment. MELLOR'S face grew a shade mellerer, not to say paler.
Set his lips, and there was a gleam in his eye reminiscent of BEERBOHM
TREE'S when seated on the gargoyle of Canterbury Cathedral. On
memorable night in summer-time LOGAN had taken him at disadvantage.
Had executed flank movement, and so almost come down on CARSON'S knee
on Chairman's left rear. Now, if he meant business, he would catch the
Chairman's eye; and probably something else.

During interval when House cleared for division ACLAND, who, having a
holiday, has been out helping FOWLER, left Treasury bench; cautiously
but nimbly crossed gangway; amid buzz of admiration from assembly that
ever admires personal courage, entered the LOGAN'S den. Sat down in
very midst of excited Radicals; proposed to argue matter out. Effect
upon LOGAN maddening. Windmill remembered another appointment more
pressing than the last. Members, anxious for ACLAND'S safety, looked
round for HAYES FISHER. The LOGAN Tamer not in his place; sand rapidly
running out of glass on table; another minute question would be put
again; if LOGAN insisted division must be taken, split manifested in
Ministerial ranks, and a quarter of an hour wasted. ACLAND, undaunted,
pegged away persuasively; windmill still went round, but less
furiously; half a minute and last sands would run out.

LOGAN glanced towards table; Chairman's glittering eye fixed upon
him. Effect magical. LOGAN slowly rose and walked towards Bar; crowd
thronging in at sound of division bell respectfully opened their ranks
as he approached. Like accomplished husband in case that recently
occupied attention of Sir FRANCIS JEUNE, LOGAN "can use 'em a bit."
Suppose he were to begin promiscuously with the crowd at the Bar! Had
no such intention. At other side of the Bar he was technically out of
the House. What others did whilst he stood there would leave no sear
on his conscience. When question was put again, and Chairman declared
"The Ayes have it," there was no responsive angry shout of "No!" The
crisis was passed, but what it cost the Chairman, and how it would
have been but for ACLAND'S fearless foray, who can tell?

_Business done._--Reached Clause VI. Parish Councils Bill.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: AN INFLUENZIAL HOUSE OF COMMONS.]

       *       *       *       *       *

_Tuesday._--The MAN FROM SHROPSHIRE in great form to-day. Original
_Mr. Gridley_ was, according to records of Court of Chancery,
accustomed to haunt the Court, and, at close of day's proceedings,
address the Chancellor. STANLEY LEIGHTON knows no such limitation.
'Tis true he is generally found on his legs at moment of adjournment,
shouting and gesticulating, whilst suborned and iniquitous
Ministerialists (answering to tipstaves in Court of Chancery) howl him
down. That only an incident in day's proceedings. Our MAN FROM
SHROPSHIRE begins as soon as his Lordship--I mean the Chairman--takes
his seat. At brief intervals, which make openings for TOMLINSON, our
_Mr. Gridley_ is at it all through the sitting of the Court.

To-night HENRY FOWLER took mean advantage of the suitor. That person
had amendment on paper which if added to Bill meant nothing worse than
surplusage. Rising from his usual place at back of Court, he began
prodigious speech in support of amendment. Expected, in accordance
with usage, to go on for quarter of an hour or twenty minutes; FOWLER
would say couldn't accept Amendment; TOMLINSON would talk for quarter
of an hour; perhaps Cap'en TOMMY BOWLES, having clapped the pilot in
irons, would put in an oar; and HANBURY might say a few words. Then
WALTER LONG or HICKS-BEACH would rise from Front Opposition Bench,
protest fullest appreciation of Amendment, declare it indispensable
to success of Bill, but in circumstances, observing obstinacy of
Minister, and impatience of gentlemen below Gangway opposite, advise
hon. friend not to press it. THE MAN FROM SHROPSHIRE would make
another speech, thanking right hon. friend for his remarks, in
deference to which he will withdraw, although----

Here another speech, about as long as the distance from Shrewsbury
to Wem. Thus an hour pleasantly and agreeably disposed of, MAN FROM
SHROPSHIRE takes breath, not that he wants it; a little later, comes
up frowning with another Amendment, or a rambling speech in support of
one moved by TOMLINSON.

[Illustration: The Persuasive Acland and the Pugilistic Logan.]

FOWLER'S strategy deprived him of this accustomed round of luxury. But
if President of Local Government Board thought he had circumvented THE
MAN FROM SHROPSHIRE he was as mistaken as the Chancellor in another
court who used to stare at the ruined chancery suitor and blandly
protest that, legally, he was unaware of his existence. Charm of
speeches by Member for Oswestry division of Shropshire is their
illimitable adaptability. Will suit any purpose, any opportunity. If
not delivered at opening of sitting upon his own Amendment, will come
in admirably on somebody else's Amendment to another line of
Clause dealt with at later hour by another member. Thus, when
GRIFFITH-BOSCAWEN delivered prodigious oration in presenting Amendment
standing in the name of HULSE, THE MAN FROM SHROPSHIRE, bounding to
his feet, waved his arms, and in them caught the Chairman's eye. A
priceless opportunity this. To deliver your own speech prepared for
your own Amendment a commonplace performance. To deliver it either for
or against (doesn't matter which) an Amendment moved by another man,
on behalf of a third man, is a luxury to be appreciated only by a
_gourmet_.

THE MAN FROM SHROPSHIRE audibly smacks his lips over it. The other
noise you hear is baffled HENRY FOWLER grinding his teeth.

_Business done._--Reached Clause VII. Parish Councils Bill.

[Illustration: The Shropshire Windmill.]

_Thursday._--Some people inclined to regard as sufficient an
arrangement that keeps them sitting day after day from three o'clock
in afternoon to midnight listening to talk about Parish Councils.
Others want a little more. CHANNING suggests House shall sit on
Saturdays, and, on four days a week, shall commence business at noon,
putting in a twelve hour day. BARROW assents to that, but thinks
twelve o'clock Rule should be suspended, so that, for fuller luxury,
House meeting at noon may, an' it please, sit all night. No one yet
proposed to sit on Sunday and Christmas Day; that will follow as
natural consequence. THE MAN FROM SHROPSHIRE, breaking out in fresh
place, joins in conversation. Asks Mr. G. if he is aware that
scores of Members are ill through overwork, and whether, instead of
lengthening sittings, he will not rather shorten them.

Expected when Mr. G. rose he would make obvious retort that since Bill
has been in Committee there is not single sitting that might not have
been shortened by at least an hour if THE MAN FROM SHROPSHIRE had
restrained his tendency to irrelevant babble. Mr. G. leaves that
unsaid; is very firm about sitting till all necessary business is
done; conditionally promises Saturday sitting; announces meeting of
Cabinet to consider measures for expediting Bill. After this go into
Committee, and succeed in not expediting progress. Night unspeakably
dull.

_Business done._--Reached Clause IX. Parish Councils Bill. Disposed of
eight Clauses in eleven sittings. This leaves sixty-three more, not
to mention new Clauses. If it takes eleven sittings to clear off eight
Clauses, at what date, assuming same rate of progress, shall we be
through a Bill that contains seventy-one? Small boys thinking of
coming home for Christmas holidays please do this sum.

_Friday._--Pretty to see Mr. G. just now explaining to Opposition that
if they weren't good boys they'd be kept in to-morrow. Not that he
put it in that coarse way. STOREY, coming to his assistance in task
of directing business of House, had, as Mr. G. put it with a positive
pang of pain in his voice, invited him to assume attitude of censor of
proceedings in Committee on Parish Councils Bill.

"That," said Mr. G., with an effort recovering himself, "I am not
entitled to do." All he had to say was that under present Standing
Orders a Saturday Sitting would naturally follow unless a Minister
interposed with Motion preventing it. MARJORIBANKS sitting by his side
was looking forward anxiously to pleasure of making such a Motion. It
would be cruel disappointment to an amiable man if circumstances so
shaped themselves as to forbid him the pleasure and gratification of
rising on stroke of midnight and moving that House do adjourn till
Monday. But--here Mr. G. shook his head and his voice thrilled with
infinite pathos--business must be done. If, in short, Committee passed
9th and 10th Clauses of Bill, MARJORIBANKS would move adjournment till
Monday. "If unfortunately," he added, "any miscarriage should occur he
would not be in a position to make the motion." SQUIRE OF MALWOOD half
rose from his seat as if to catch the drooping figure of his right
hon. friend overcome with emotion. But Mr. G., waving him off, sank
slowly back into his seat and shudderingly closed his eyes, as if to
shut out picture of gentlemen opposite spending Saturday in further
consideration of Parish Councils Bill. GOSCHEN said it was too large
an order. Couldn't possibly be done in the time. But it was.

_Business done._--Got up to Clause X. and nearly finished it.

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Transcriber's Note:


Page 265: 'advertisment' corrected to 'advertisement'.

"... a picture which seems to be an advertisement of somebody's
shirts?"

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End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol.
105 December 9, 1893, by Various

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