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Punch, or the London Charivari

Volume 105, November 18th 1893

_edited by Sir Francis Burnand_

       *       *       *       *       *




"THE PAPER OF THE DAY AFTER TO-MORROW."

    [In one of the magazines an entire article has been
    transmitted to the office, not by the post, but by mental
    suggestion.--_News paragraph._]

SCENE--_Editor's Room of "The Mental Mirror of the Universe."_
TIME--_An hour before publication._ Editor _and_ Chief-Sub.
_discovered in consultation_.

_Editor._ Dear me, Mr. PAYSTE, this is very annoying! Debate on Africa
in the House to-night, and our leader-writer has sent in no copy! Why
did you not communicate with me?

_Chief-Sub._ Well, Sir, as you were dining with the Duke, I did not
like to disturb you, especially as I had arranged matters. I have got
some one else to knock off the article.

_Ed._ Very good, and where does it come from?

_Chief-Sub._ I turned on the mentophone and found Lord MACAULAY
disengaged.

_Ed._ Of course he writes smartly enough, but I should have thought he
was scarcely sufficiently well-up in the subject.

_Chief-Sub._ So he said, Sir: so we applied to Sir WALTER RALEIGH, who
has sent in a good column.

_Ed._ His English, I am afraid, is a trifle old-fashioned.

_Chief Sub._ Well, yes, Sir; a little. But I gave it to one of our
subs. who has made black letter a study, and between them they have
turned out a very decent leader. Sorry to say the wire has broken down
between London and the seat of the war, so we have no despatches.

_Ed._ Distinctly annoying! However, I think I can put myself in
communication with our special. (_Takes a pen in his right hand, and
commences writing._) Well, what next?

_Chief Sub._ But shall I not disturb you?

_Ed._ Not at all; my right hand is in sympathy with LONGBOW, so I need
not pay any attention to what he is sending us until he gets to the
end of his copy. Everything else right?

_Chief Sub._ I think I may venture to say "Yes," Sir. Mrs. COVERS, who
does our reviews, has neglected to send in her stuff, but I have used
the mentophone again in that case. Put on CHARLES LAMB. And I think
that's all, save, as there is a letter about the authorship of
_Hamlet_, I have got WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE to answer it himself. And now,
Sir, I would suggest that, as we are rather full up this evening, you
might conclude that dispatch as quickly as possible.

_Ed._ My hand has just done writing. (_Gives copy to_ Chief Sub.)
Anything worth a line for the bill?

_Chief Sub._ (_after perusal_). Well, yes, Sir. I find there has been
a battle, so we may as well give that.

_Ed._ Everything right now?

_Chief Sub._ Everything, Sir.

_Ed._ Well, now you can send down the paper to press as soon as you
please. (_Exit_ Chief Sub. _to carry out directions_.) Dear me! It
really simplifies matters considerably when waves of thought will do
as well as the electric telegraph.

    [_The Curtain falls upon the_ Editor's _very natural
    reflection_.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: SANCTA SIMPLICITAS.

_Housemaid._ "WE'RE GETTING UP A SWEEPSTAKES, MRS. THRUPP. WON'T YOU
JOIN?"

_Housekeeper._ "GRACIOUS ME, CHILD; NOT I! WHY IF I _WON_ A HORSE I
SHOULDN'T KNOW WHAT TO _DO_ WITH HIM!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

TO THE SEA.

_An Expostulation._

  Oh, smooth and smiling! I have loved thee well!
  Hymned thee, and heard thee; lived beneath thy spell;
  For years thy life-giving ozone have bless'd,
  That makes loose garments tighter round the chest.
  Paced in the dark thy sounding margent white,
  And voiced my rapture in the boisterous night,
  Striking the lurking coastguard with affright.

  Now on my barque--ah, no! no barque be mine!
  On the new packet of the Angler Line,
  I learn, too late, when fairly out at sea,
  How well they speak who speak not well of thee
  Implacable, inscrutable Emirs
  Mock not the captured foe of bloodstained years
  As thou hast mock'd one who ne'er did thee wrong,
  Save in the venial fault of unexpressive song.
  Or canst thou this unmeasured vengeance take,
  Remembering some childish duck-and-drake,
  Forgotten long, and never done in spite?
  How could it harm thy navy-rending might,
  Thou, whose huge waves in wanton affluence bang
  Their heads against the rocks, in mid-air hang,
  Up the sheer cliffs clamber with foamy claws,
  And backward plunge again, with mad applause
  Of all the turbulent, tumultuous press
  That hurl themselves to spray in wantonness?
  Prone, but unconquered, I have roll'd to leeward,
  Soothed by the merciless mercy of the steward.
  How can I stand when hardest steel and teak
  Play a vertiginous game of hide-and-seek?
  All is a-swing and dipping and a-roll.
  Oh, vain material creed! Th' informing soul!
  Proves well its immateriality,
  Defying thus the tortures of the sea,
  That force all else to helpless surrender;
  For aught but very Spirit would prefer
  To seek at once the illimitable inane,
  Than cognisant of anguish thus remain
  The tenant of a desolated shrine,
  A bare clay cabin, like this frame of mine.
  Oh, rich saloons! Oh, rooms of wretched state!
  The pomp and glory of you all I hate!
  Ye fulsome diving dados, would ye were
  Extinct as your vocabular congener!
  Place me where errant icebergs, anchored deep
  By chains of frost, a darkling vigil keep,
  Fixed in the pole's impenetrable wall,
  Dead to the warmer ocean's roving call!
  Far from this liquid way that heaves and rolls,
  This world-long switchback, bounded by the poles,
  This path of pain, whose undulations cease
  Only in that palaeocrystic peace!
  Nay, what is this? How steady! Here we are!
  Field breezes mingle with the oil and tar,
  And with a shudder I behold anear
  The solid weed-hung timbers of the pier.
  Perfidious sea! I'll trust thee never more,
  And mock thy fury safely from the shore.

       *       *       *       *       *

TO HEBE.

(_See the Report of the Lady Commissioners on Women's Labour._)

  Waitress! with the dimpled chin,
  Cap as clean as a new pin,
  Here's a feather to put in!

  For Miss ORME'S report declares
  That no male with you compares
  In the showing off of wares.

  Be it counter, be it bar,
  You can "dress" it--you're its star,
  Bright, and _most_ particular!

  Grievances you have, no doubt;
  Which of us exists without?
  Still, you do not pine or pout.

  Standing with reluctant feet
  Always ready, trim, and neat,
  No one tells _you_--"Take a seat!"

  Hours are long, and meal-time short,
  Mashing bores, who think it "sport,"
  Say the things they didn't ought!

  Gather, then, the tips that fall;
  Don't let vulgar chaff appal;
  To the Bar you've had your "call"!

       *       *       *       *       *

CON. FOR COMPETITIVE SPORTSMEN.--_Q._ What is the most unpopular thing
in the (sporting) world? _A._ A "record," because it is always being
"cut," by everybody, everywhere, every day.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: THE GREAT AFRICAN LION-TAMER.]

    ["He fully admitted the difficulties of the Government and
    Sir HENRY LOCH. Both found themselves to be in a most
    exceptionally difficult position, created by those who had
    gone before them by granting in the wrong way the charter to
    the Company. He admitted that both Lord RIPON and Sir HENRY
    LOCH did their best in the circumstances for a long time to
    maintain peace; both urged that war should be avoided.... Mr.
    RHODES was Prime Minister of Cape Colony, and obviously Sir
    HENRY LOCH had an exceedingly difficult position in dealing
    as Prime Minister and as the head of the Company with that
    gentleman, to whom he could not say that he did not quite
    believe him, and that he was forcing on the war."--_Mr.
    Labouchere on the Chartered Company and Matabeleland._]

_Lion-Tamer_ (_grandly_). "Walk up, walk up, ladies and gentlemen! See
the great African live lion, Matabele--called Lo Ben for short--larger
than (average) life, and thrice as natural as normal (menagerie)
nature! Walk up! Walk up! Taming process just about to begin----

_Agent of Menagerie Proprietor_ (_sotto voce_). Oh, well you
know--subject, of course, to--ahem!--every provision being made
for--a--_humanity_--and--ahem--every precaution being taken
against--a--a--needless risks, you know, and--a--obvious cruelty, you
see--and--ahem!--all that sort of thing, don't you know.

_Lion-Tamer_ (_nettled_). No, I _don't_ know, dontcher know. And
what's more I don't believe _you_ know, dontcher know, nor your
guv'nors neither, for that matter. What _is_ your little game, anyhow?

_Agent_ (_with some assumption of dignity_). We have _no_ "little
game." Little Game is not the word. Lions, I believe, are generally
called "Big Game," by NIMRODS and others.

    [_Sniggers as one who has scored._

_Lion-Tamer_ (_sardonically_). NIMROD, indeed! Ah! a mighty hunter
before the Lords _you_ are, ain't you? You and your lot! Rural rabbits
and parochial foxes are G----'s "Big Game," eh?

_Agent._ This is neither the time nor the place to argue that point.
Your business is lion-taming; ours is menagerie-managing.

_Lion-Tamer_ (_scornfully_). All right, my noble swell! Manage _him_!

    [_Pointing to Lion, who is ramping and roaring._

_Agent._ Not at all, not at all!

    [_Spectators become impatient._

_Lion-Tamer._ Well, look here, do you want this lion tamed for you, or
do you _not_?

_Agent._ Why, cert'n'ly! Subject of course to the assistance--ahem!--I
_should_ say _supervision_ of LOCH and myself.

_Lion-Tamer._ Ah, "supervise" away as much as you please, only don't
interfere with me. The old game! Stand by while I do the dangerous
part of the business, hamper me as much as you can, and when, in spite
of you all, I am successfully through, take the business--and the
credit--over yourselves!

_Agent_ (_aside_). Wonderful man, very. Wish I quite knew what to
make of him. Lion-tamers, like fire, are excellent servants, but bad
masters. All alike, all alike, CLIVE, WARREN HASTINGS, Rajah BROOKE,
Jamaica EYRE, BARTLE FRERE, GORDON, all wonderful, and--in the
end--very useful, but worrying, worrying!

_Lion-Tamer_ (_proceeding_). Walk up, walk up, ladies and gentlemen!
All in to begin! See the big black-maned African lion, fresh from
Mashonaland wilds; bigger than CHURCHILL ever chased or SELOUS
slew, or VAN AMBURGH subdued, tamed in the twinkling of an assegai,
conquered in the 'tss! of a Hotchkiss, by the Great South African
Lion-Tamer, RHODOROWDIDOW the Rumbistical.

_Spectators._ Hooray! Hooray!! Hoo-_ray!!!_

_Agent_ (_aside_). How wonderfully popular these thrasonical
wild-beast tamers and prancing proconsul sort of fellows are--with the
gallery!

_Lion-Tamer_ (_to attendant_). I say, just hand me the loaded whip,
and--keep the poker hot, in case of emergency----

_Agent_ (_hurriedly_). Oh, here, I say; that will never do,
RHODOROWDIDOW!

_Lion-Tamer_ (_impatiently_). What do you mean?

_Agent._ Why, you know, loaded bludgeons and red-hot pokers _read_
too much like--_Cruelty to Animals_! What _would_ LABBY and the
Humanitarians say? You're none too popular already, you know, in
certain quarters. Your masterful little ways and monetary success have
put a good many backs up. We mustn't run any needless risks, RHODO.
_Wouldn't_ this little toy-whip and this big bottle of (_medicated_)
rose-water do as well?

_Lion-Tamer_ (_scornfully_). _Was it with Rose-water that "John
Company" tamed your Indian tiger for you?_

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: TWO WAYS OF LOOKING AT IT.

_Sporting Farmer_ (_who has been kind enough to give a mount to our
friend 'Arry_). "NOW THEN! THEY'RE AWAY. DON'T YOU SEE THEY'RE GONE?"

_'Arry_ (_who has been having a very bad time_). "EH! GONE! AND NOT
COMIN' BACK? WOT A BLESSIN'!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

YOU NEVER WROTE.

(_To Another Man's Fiancee._)

  You never wrote a single word, though I
    Sent prompt congratulations in a note,
  You gave my well-meant greetings the go-by--
                    You never wrote.

  Do you remember when we took a boat,
    And slowly drifted 'neath a summer sky?
  Perhaps you don't. In fact, perhaps, you vote
    Such memories a bore. You can't deny
  That, politician-like, you turned your coat,
    In fine, you jilted me. Is not that why
                    You never wrote?

       *       *       *       *       *

MRS. R. heard in Scotland that MONSON was always a bit of a scapegoat.

       *       *       *       *       *

UNDER THE ROSE.

(_A Story in Scenes._)

SCENE XIV.--_The Study at Hornbeam Lodge._

TIME--_Saturday night, about_ 11.30. Mr. TOOVEY _is alone_.

_Mr. Toovey_ (_to himself_). Oh the inestimable blessing of having
nothing on one's mind again! How providential that I found LARKINS in!
He was a little unsympathetic at first, to be sure; he _would_ have it
that I must have known all along what the Eldorado really was! but as
soon as he saw how strongly I felt about it, he was _most_ helpful. I
could _not_ have gone to that place this evening; how could I have met
CORNELIA'S eye after it? As it is, I can face her without---- Surely
she is later than usual from this Zenana meeting! (_Wheels are heard
outside._) A cab? I do hope nothing is the matter! Why, that sounds
like--like a _latchkey_! Can it be--ah!--a dispute with the cabman--it
_must_ be CORNELIA!

    [_The front door bangs._

_A Voice_ (_in earnest remonstrance through the keyhole_). 'Ere, I
say, you don't sneak off like _that_, you know! I _knowed_ you was no
good the minnit I clapped eyes on you! Are you going to gimme my legal
fare or not? I ain't goin' till I git it. I want another shellin' orf
o' you I do!

_Mr. Toov._ (_to himself_). Another shilling? Why, it's under a mile!
He little knows my wife's principles if he expects----

_The Voice._ You orter be _ashimed_ o' yourself! A lydy like you
to tyke a man orf his rank at this toime o' noight, all the w'y
from----(_The front door is hastily unlocked again._) Thankee,
mum, thankee; lor, I only want what's my doo, and the distance 'ere
from----

    [_The door shuts with a bang._

_Mr. Toov._ She's given him the extra shilling--she _can't_ be well!
I'm afraid she's really poorly. She's gone into the drawing-room, but
there are no lights there. She'll be here directly.

    [_He sits up expectantly._

_Mrs. Toov._ (_to herself, in the hall_). Just as I expected.
THEOPHILUS not home yet! I shall sit up for him in the study. (_She
opens the study door, and starts_.) So _there_ you are, Pa! And pray
when did _you_ come in?

_Mr. Toov._ (_mildly_). Yes, my love, here I am; I've been in a long
while, quite a long while.

_Mrs. Toov._ (_to herself_). And he imagines I believe _that!_
(_Aloud._) I understood you intended to spend the evening with
CHARLES.

_Mr. Toov._ So I did, my dear, so I did. I went to his rooms.

_Mrs. Toov._ And you went out somewhere together, Pa? Come, you won't
deny _that_!

_Mr. Toov._ (_to himself_). What a mercy I didn't go to that Eldorado!
I should have _had_ to tell her! (_Aloud._) Why you see we--we didn't
go anywhere. I found CHARLES was engaged to dine with a friend, so I
went away again.

_Mrs. Toov._ (_to herself_). A very likely story! Where has THEOPHILUS
learnt such brazen duplicity? (_Aloud._) Oh! and then of course you
came straight home?

_Mr. Toov._ Why, no, my love; not immediately. I--I suddenly
recollected that I had to see a friend on--on a little matter of
business which was--hem--somewhat pressing, so I went there first of
all.

_Mrs. Toov._ (_to herself, contemptuously_). Exactly the excuse in all
those horrid songs! (_Aloud._) And the business kept you rather late,
eh, Pa? Some business _is_ apt to do so, I know!

_Mr. Toov._ (_to himself_). She makes me almost feel as if I'd gone
after all! (_Aloud._) I _was_ a little late, my dear, not so very.
I suppose I must have been home between eight and nine, and PH[OE]BE
brought me up some nice cold mutton and the apple-tart, so I did very
well, very well indeed.

_Mrs. Toov._ (_to herself_). If he is deceiving me, I can soon find
out from the look of the joint and tart!

_Mr. Toov._ By the way, my love, surely _you_ are rather late this
evening, are you not? it's nearly twelve!

_Mrs. Toov._ (_to herself, with a start_). Oh, but I will _not_ fib
unless he forces me to. (_Aloud._) I--I was detained later than I
expected.

_Mr. Toov._ And you didn't expect to be back so very early either, for
you took the latchkey, didn't you?

MRS. TOOV. I happened to find it, Pa, and I thought I might as well
use it--and why not?

_Mr. Toov._ It was most thoughtful of you, my love, to think of
saving PH[OE]BE. By the way, do you notice----? (_He looks round him
suspiciously._) Ah, well, it may be my fancy. And you had a successful
meeting? were there many interesting speeches?

_Mrs. Toov_ (_choking_). As--as interesting as usual, THEOPHILUS! (_To
herself._) I 'm sure _that's_ true enough!

_Mr. Toov._ And supper provided afterwards, I suppose? Which accounts
for your being late. Dear--dear me!

    [_His face grows troubled again._

_Mrs. Toov._ Is there any reason why there _shouldn't_ be supper
afterwards, Pa?

_Mr. Toov._ Not in _that_ house. Our dear friends the CUMBERBATCHES do
everything on such a truly hospitable scale. Now, most people in their
position would have considered tea and coffee and sandwiches _quite_
sufficient. Was it a _hot_ supper, my love?

_Mrs. Toov._ (_desperately_). Yes--no--_rather_ hot--I didn't notice.
You ask such preposterous questions, THEOPHILUS!

_Mr. Toov._ I didn't mean to. I was just a little surprised, do you
know, at your taking a cab for such a short distance. I thought you
might have felt unwell; but perhaps dear Mrs. CUMBERBATCH insisted----

_Mrs. Toov._ Why, of course, Pa; you know how kind and considerate she
is; otherwise I should never have dreamed of----

_Mr. Toov._ Just what I thought, my love. But wasn't the cabman rather
uncivil? I wonder you gave way to him--unless, of course, he was
drunk.

_Mrs. Toov._ He _was_--disgracefully drunk, Pa; if you heard so much,
you must have noticed that; and how you could sit quietly here and
never think of coming to my assistance! Ah, it is hardly for _you_ to
reproach me for submitting to his extortion!

_Mr. Toov._ Indeed, my love, I'd no idea--you are generally so very
firm with cabmen that---- (_Changing the subject._) By-the-bye, I
don't know if you noticed a note for you lying on the hall table? It
must have come after you left. It looked to me wonderfully like dear
Mrs. CUMBERBATCH'S writing, but what could she have to write about
when she would be seeing you directly? Did she allude to it at all?

_Mrs. Toov._ From ELIZA CUMBERBATCH? No; at least, she--I'll go and
get it. (_She goes into the hall and finds the note._) Good gracious,
it _is_ ELIZA'S hand! (_She reads it hurriedly under the hall-lamp._)
"Just a line. Zenana meeting postponed at last moment. Will let you
know when another day fixed. Well, it will save me the trouble of
writing to her; but, oh dear, the stories I've been telling Pa! But
he's as bad--I _know_ he's as bad!

_Mr. Toov._ (_as_ Mrs. T. _returns_). So you found the note, CORNELIA,
and what does Mrs. CUMBERBATCH say?

_Mrs. Toov._ (_putting the note in the fire_). It--it was only
from--from my dressmaker. (_To herself._) He _drives_ me to this!

_Mr. Toov._ (_again uneasy_). Do you know, CORNELIA, I--I may be
wrong, but I've a very strong suspicion that----

_Mrs. Toov._ (_in terror_). Pa, speak out! In--in the name of Heaven,
_what_ is it you suspect?

_Mr. Toov._ It's getting stronger every moment. I'm sure of it. My
love, there's a strange man downstairs in the kitchen!

_Mrs. Toov._ (_with a gasp of relief_). A man! Oh, this must be seen
into at once! (_She rings the bell furiously; presently_ PH[OE]BE
_appears, evidently only half-awake_.) PH[OE]BE, what does this mean?
I insist on the truth!

_Ph[oe]be_. I'm very sorry m'm, but I'd no idea you was home, and I
was sitting up for you downstairs, and I expect I must have dropped
asleep, and never heard you come in.

_Mrs. Toov._ Don't attempt to deceive _me_! You are entertaining a man
downstairs, contrary to all my orders. Yes, it's useless to deny it,
your master has distinctly heard sounds.

_Mr. Toov._ No, my love, I can't exactly say as much as
that--but--yes, every time the door opens it's more perceptible! (_He
sniffs._) Don't you observe yourself, my dear, a remarkably strong
odour of tobacco-smoke? Now, as I never have been a smoker myself, it
stands to reason that----

    [_Mrs. T. suddenly sits down, scarlet._

[Illustration: "Mrs. Toovey suddenly sits down, scarlet."]

_Ph[oe]be_ (_roused_). I'm sure if you and master suspect me of
concealing followers downstairs, you're welcome to search as much as
you please! Cook's gone up to bed hours ago, and for a poor girl to
be kep' up to this time o' night, and then have her character took
away--why, I'm not accustomed to such treatment, and, what's more, put
up with it I _won't_.

_Mrs. Toov._ (_to herself, guiltily_). It's that filthy smoke at the
Eldorado! (_Aloud._) THEOPHILUS, how can you have such ridiculous
fancies? Tobacco, indeed! I--_I_ don't notice anything. PH[OE]BE, it
was a mistake of your master's; I don't blame you in the least. There,
you've sat up long enough, go to bed, go, girl!

_Ph[oe]be._ Beggin' your pardon, m'm, but insinuations have been
descended to which I can't pass over in a hurry, and before I go I
should wish----

_Mrs. Toov._ (_feverishly_). I tell you it was all a mistake. Your
master will apologise for it. Pa, say you're sorry!

_Ph[oe]be._ I don't require no apologies from _master_, m'm. I can
make allowances for _him_--more partickler as there's no mistake about
there being a smell of tobaccer-smoke. I don't wonder at _anyone_
noticing it. It's your sending for me like this, and trying to shift
the blame on the innercent, when all the time----

_Mrs. Toov._ (_to herself_). This is too intolerable! (_Aloud._)
Haven't I _said_ I didn't blame you, you unreasonable girl! Let us
have no more of this impertinence! Leave us!

_Ph[oe]be._ I will, m'm, as soon as ever you can get suited, for, to
tell you the truth, I don't like such goings on as these; and I'll
take care I get a good character, too, or I'll know the reason why!
(_As she closes the door._) And I 'ope master will satisfy himself
where the smell of tobacco reelly _does_ come from, I'm sure; it isn't
from _downstairs_!

    [_She vanishes, leaving Mrs. T. petrified._

_Mr. Toov._ You see, my love, it couldn't have been all my fancy,
because PH[OE]BE noticed it too. Dear me, it's late; I'd better go and
see that everything is locked up. (_As he passes_ Mrs. T.) It's very
extraordinary. Surely they don't allow any of the missionaries to
smoke at these Zenana meetings, my love--do they?

_Mrs. Toov._ Of course they don't. I--I am at a loss to understand
you. THEOPHILUS, and--and I am going to bed.

_Mr. Toov._ No, but really---- Why, I _see_ how it was! Depend upon
it, my dear, that cabman must have been sitting inside the vehicle
smoking, with the windows up, before you got in. Yes, yes; that
accounts for everything.

_Mrs. Toov._ (_faintly_). Do you think so, THEOPHILUS? I--I remember
noticing a smell of cigars.

_Mr. Toov._ (_as he goes out_). My poor dear love, _what_ a trial for
you; and you never complained! Now, when I see dear Mrs CUMBERBATCH at
church to-morrow, I must really caution her not to employ that cabman
again--she may have taken his number, and he really ought to lose his
licence--drunk, and smoking inside his cab! Oh, I shall tell her!

    [_He goes out._

_Mrs. Toov._ (_alone_). Pa shall _not_ go to church to-morrow. _I_
will take care of that, and by the time he sees ELIZA again he will
have forgotten all about it. Is he doing all this to cover his own
misdoings? I can't rest till I know! I will make CHARLES tell me
on Monday. But what if Pa is blameless? No, he must have been doing
_something_ he oughtn't to. It would be too horrible if it turned out
that I--_I_ am the only person who has been (_she catches her breath
with a shudder_) "hi-tiddley-ing," as those vulgar wretches would
call it! There 's only one comfort that I can see; nobody here is ever
likely to know, unless I choose to betray myself. Oh dear! oh dear! I
wish I could forget this awful evening!

  [_She ascends the stairs with a heavy and dispirited tread_.

END OF SCENE XIV.

       *       *       *       *       *

AN INQUIRY.--Miss QUOTA writes to ask us "where the following
well-known lines are to be found:--

  "'Eight hours to sleep, eight hours to food are given,
  Eight hours to play, and all the rest to Heav'n.'"

    [_We are not sure, but imagine that they are to be found In
    the works of "Anon." Anyhow, better send to Editor of "Notes
    and Queries," who knows everything._--ED.]

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: HUMAN NATURE REBELS!

POOR MR. WIGGLES HAS JUST BEEN DESCRIBED BY A FACETIOUS WITNESS OF
THE LOWER ORDERS AS "THAT THERE H'OLD BLOKE WIV A CHOKER, AN' A
CAULIFLOWER ON 'IS 'ED"!!!]

       *       *       *       *       *

TWO VIEWS OF VICTORY.

THE PAST.

THE Commander who had fought so bravely was tired out. He could go no
farther. He had beaten back the stubborn foe, and there was nothing
more for him to do. He waited with as much patience as he could muster
the return of his messengers. In a short time he would learn whether
the honour of his country had been preserved; whether his battle was a
defeat or a victory.

"Will they never come?" he murmured. "Surely by this time they should
have learned the truth?"

He had scarcely uttered these words when the scouts returned.

"General," cried the leader, "your campaign has been crowned with
success! England is herself again! Your reward is assured!"

And it was. A week later he was made a K.C.B.!


THE FUTURE.

The Commander who had contended with the stubborn foe with a spirit of
stern determination was at length exhausted. He had put to flight the
enemies who at every step had attempted to bar his progress. But now
the affair was over, and there was little for him to do; so he was
waiting as patiently as he could the return of those he had sent
forward to represent him in the proper quarter. Before long he would
receive the intelligence for which he hungered. He would be told
whether all was right or all was wrong; whether his battle was a
defeat or a victory.

"Will they never come?" he murmured. "Surely by this time they should
have revealed the truth, and made the most of the opportunity."

He had scarcely uttered these words when the scouts came back.

"General," cried the leader, "your campaign has been crowned with
success! Capel Court is itself again! The Stocks have gone up 15, and
your success is assured!"

And it was. A week later and he found himself a millionaire!

       *       *       *       *       *

MEM. FROM MATABELELAND.--Most of the news from the Cape, if not true,
is certainly _Lo Ben trovato_.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: EFFECTS OF SHYNESS.

_Shy Lady_ (_trying to break the ice_). "WHAT A SAD THING IT ALL IS
ABOUT THIS WRETCHED COAL-STRIKE, _ISN'T_ IT?"

_Silent Gentleman_ (_also shy_). "ER<--YES--ER--I ALMOST THINK THAT
EVERYTHING THAT CAN BE SAID ON THAT SUBJECT--ER--ER--_HAS_ BEEN SAID!"

    [_Conversation languishes after this._

       *       *       *       *       *

"RULE, BRITANNIA!" (?)

    ["Her Majesty's Government are perfectly satisfied as to the
    adequacy and capacity of the British Navy to perform all the
    purposes for which it exists."--_Mr. Gladstone, in House of
    Commons, November 7, 1893._

    "Everybody knows, Liberals as well as Tories, that it is
    indispensable that we should have not only a powerful
    Navy, but I may say an all-powerful Navy."--_Mr. Morley at
    Manchester, November 8, 1893._]

  Since "Britain First!" is Fate's command,
    And History bids us sway the main,
  We feel this charter of our land
    All guardian statesmen must maintain.
      Rule, BRITANNIA! BRITANNIA rule the waves!
      Out on the Chief who only shirks and saves!

  The nations must not rival thee,
    Their fleets below our own must fall.
  _Thou_ must, if thou'dst be great and free,
    Still rise superior to them all!
      Rule, BRITANNIA! BRITANNIA rule the waves!
  Such primacy e'en peaceful COBDEN craves.

  Russia and France are now allies!--
    Though funny, 'tis not all a joke.
  As their rejoicings shake the skies,
    Think how the great Free Trader spoke!
      Rule, BRITANNIA! BRITANNIA rule the waves!
      Better that Hundred Millions than be slaves.

  True, all thy statesmen _say_ the same,
    MORLEY hands COBDEN'S dictum down.
  Yet Ins and Outs do play a game
    That hardly adds to thy renown.
      Rule, BRITANNIA! BRITANNIA rule the waves!
      _But_ Parties squabble and the Exchequer--saves!

  If thou'dst maintain thine ocean reign,
    And first in Commerce still would'st shine,
  The easy optimistic strain
    And Pangloss pose must not be thine.
      Rule, BRITANNIA! BRITANNIA rule the waves!
      But constant warding constant watching craves.

  Devotion to the needs of home,
    And claims parochial, is not all.
  Beware, lest shades more darkling come,
    With gloomier writings on the wall.
      Rule, BRITANNIA! BRITANNIA rule the waves!
      Britons to careless trust should ne'er be slaves.

  Say, Statesman, are those figures found
    Full warrant for your picture bold?
  Our watch the wave-washed world around
    Needs iron hearts, _and_ ungrudged gold.
      Rule, BRITANNIA! BRITANNIA rule the waves!
      Britons--free-handed--never need be slaves!

       *       *       *       *       *

Mrs. R thinks the reason so many of the young men of the present day
are bald is, because they don't use antimacassar oil as they did in
her time.

       *       *       *       *       *

MARCH IN NOVEMBER.

    "Blow, blow, thou winter wind,"
    In verse some call thee wind.
  Though Thursday's crowd was thinned
    By blasts so unrefined,
  And men in armour, tinned
    Like lobsters, mutely pined--
  They, later, "wined" and "ginned,"
    Whilst guests superbly dined
  On turtle, fish (that's finned),
    Joints, game of matchless kind,
  And wines, rare, old, long-binned.
    Blow clear, before, behind,
  The streets where lately dinned
    The band--each man, defined,
  Of _Vaterland_ the _kind_--
    And sightless singers whined
  Not much like _Jenny Lind_;
    Would they were dumb, not blind!
  Whilst grinders grimly grinned,
    And ground their graceless grind.
  I swore; perhaps I sinned.
    But now they seem to find
  Their rags, just tied and pinned,
    Let in thy blast unkind,
  By which they're almost skinned.
    Then blow, I do not mind,
  Thou rough November wind--
    Pronounced by many, wind.

       *       *       *       *       *

Seasonable.

  When garden lawns are a green bog,
  And shrubbery vistas veiled in fog,
  Reload revolvers, let dogs run!
  The Burglar Season has begun!

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: "RULE, BRITANNIA!" (?)

SHADE OF COBDEN (_quoting from his own speech at Rochdale, June 26,
1861_). "I AM NOT ONE TO ADVOCATE THE REDUCING OF OUR NAVY IN ANY
DEGREE BELOW THAT PROPORTION TO THE FRENCH NAVY WHICH THE EXIGENCIES
OF OUR SERVICE REQUIRE. WE HAVE A LEGITIMATE PRETENSION TO HAVE A
LARGER NAVY THAN FRANCE.... IF THE FRENCH GOVERNMENT SHOWED A SINISTER
DESIGN TO INCREASE THEIR NAVY TO AN EQUALITY WITH OURS, I _SHOULD
VOTE A HUNDRED MILLIONS STERLING_ RATHER THAN ALLOW THAT NAVY TO BE
INCREASED _TO A LEVEL WITH OURS...._ I HAVE SAID SO IN THE HOUSE OF
COMMONS, AND I REPEAT IT TO _YOU_."]

       *       *       *       *       *

OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.

Mr. FISHER UNWIN is, my Baronite writes, still engaged in the
important work, some time ago undertaken by his house, of
publishing _The Story of the Nations_. The last volume issued is the
thirty-fifth, in which Mr. GREVILLE TREGARTHEN deals with the History
of the Australian Commonwealth. Australasia is a mere chit among the
nations of the world, and story, God bless you, it has hardly any to
tell. It has never been at war except with the aboriginal settlers,
who were, at the outset, so lost to all proper feeling as to resent
the incursion of the white man, occasionally carrying their prejudice
to the absurd extent of eating him. But this is ancient history in a
record which, beginning a little more than a hundred years ago with a
convict settlement--it was on January 26, 1788, the British flag was
for the first time unfurled in Sydney Bay--has already spread out
lusty limbs over a vast Continent. _The Story of the Nations_ forms a
library of itself, and this last volume is not the least fascinating
of the series.

The Baron, while greatly admiring and certainly grateful for the
Diamond editions of all the best works, and Diamond editions should
reproduce only those that can be classed among the "brilliants," of
which two or three specimens at a time can be carried easily in
the pocket of an ulster, begs to remind Messrs. ROUTLEDGE, the
republishers of DICKENS'S works in a very pocketable form, that
much of our journeying is done by such gaslight as railway companies
supply, and therefore, as this is not always of the most powerful
kind, a book in small type, however clear the type may be, is
unreadable. That is what the publishers have to consider. This
excellent little pocket volume of, for example, _The Cricket on the
Hearth_, is of no use to the Baron when once out of the pocket. True,
the publishers may say "it is intended for the pocket only"; but if
this be the case, then the pockets that would suffer would be those of
the publishers, not those of the reading public. The Baron's hints are
well worth consideration. For travelling, the publishers might provide
and sell a small case containing the Diamond edition and a portable
candle-lamp by which to read it. Only this would rather add to the
expense, and with every volume one does not wish to be obliged to
carry a candle-lamp. Therefore, bigger and clearer type. That's all.
Try it, and if it does not succeed, blame the hitherto blameless

  BARON DE B.-W.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: CRUELLE ENIGME; OR, TWOS INTO ONE WON'T GO.

THE PROBLEM OF THE DAY:--HOW TO GET THIS YEAR'S SLEEVES INTO LAST
YEAR'S JACKET.]

       *       *       *       *       *

Mrs. R. saw a heading in a newspaper. "_Board of Trade Returns._"
Whereupon she exclaimed, "Where's the Board of Trade been to? I
suppose for a holiday, and we shall have to pay!"

       *       *       *       *       *

THE BOGUS MANAGER'S VADE MECUM.

_Question._ Is it an easy thing to become the manager of a theatre?

_Answer._ Why, certainly; you require no cash, and very little credit.

_Q._ Is it necessary that you should have any special training to
enable you to appropriately fill so responsible a position?

_A._ No. If you are sufficiently impudent, you may in the past have
been a betting-man, a crossing-sweeper, or an unqualified dentist.

_Q._ Will you have any difficulty in securing a theatre?

_A._ Not at all. You will always find someone willing to accept you as
a lessee without making any inquiry as to your antecedents.

_Q._ Having obtained a theatre, what is your next step?

_A._ To get together a company. This is easily managed, as the
dramatic trade-journals give every week a long list of actors and
actresses who are "resting."

_Q._ What do you understand by such a word?

_A._ That the advertiser is much in need of an engagement, but is too
proud to acknowledge it.

_Q._ Such a frame of mind is, I suppose, favourable to hurried and
unconsidered engagements?

_A._ Quite so. It is an easy matter to get an entire company on
excellent terms. Not that money is of any importance; for you may
as well promise five pounds a week as five shillings, if you do not
intend to pay.

_Q._ Having secured your company, what is the next step?

_A._ To make them rehearse three weeks or a month without a salary.

_Q._ I suppose you have no trouble about obtaining a piece on
advantageous terms?

_A._ None whatever. If you are lucky you will get some conceited
noodle to pay you for producing his play; and if you are not so
fortunate, why at least you will get a drama, comedy, or burlesque for
nothing.

_Q._ Say that you are ready to begin, will you have any difficulty in
obtaining the preliminary announcements?

_A._ No. For having been trusted by the proprietor of the theatre, the
advertisement agents will follow suit, and you will obtain sufficient
publicity to balance your requirements.

_Q._ And what will take place on and after the opening of the
playhouse under your management?

_A._ You will get more or less ready money taken at the doors during
five days of the week, with which you can safely decamp without paying
anybody on or before the sixth.

_Q._ Will not your sudden departure cause some inconvenience to a
large number of persons connected with the enterprise?

_A._ Assuredly. Many of the company you have engaged will starve, and
the other parties to the proceedings will use strong language as they
wipe off your liability as a bad debt.

_Q._ Is it possible that you will be made a bankrupt?

_A._ Not only possible, but probable.

_Q._ And will this end your theatrical career?

_A._ Why, of course not. All you will have to do is to take a little
holiday.

_Q._ And after the holiday, what next?

_A._ Why, then you can secure another theatre and repeat the
proceedings with exactly similar results.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: NEWS FROM THE LAW COURTS.

Cold but In-vig-orating.]

       *       *       *       *       *

THE GINGHAM-GRABBER.

  Someone wrote, "Killing's no Murder."
  Nothing well could be absurder!
  But to many in our time
  Stealing (umbrellas) seems no crime.
  Therefore, to a frank plain dealer,
  Killing--an umbrella-stealer--
  Might be called--by Justice tried--
  Justifiable Snobicide!

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: "CRAMMING."

_Affectionate Uncle._ "GLAD TO SEE YOU, RUPERT. NOW TELL ME ALL ABOUT
IT. WHAT FORM ARE YOU IN, OLD BOY?"

_Nephew (just returned from Harrow)._ "WELL, UNCLE, NOT SO BAD,
I THINK. I CAN GENERALLY MANAGE A COUPLE OF EGGS, TWO SAUSAGES OR
KIDNEYS, SOME DUNDEE MARMALADE, AND TWO CUPS OF COFFEE FOR BREAKFAST.
I ALWAYS HAVE A LITTLE LUNCHEON, ANY AMOUNT OF ROAST BEEF OR MUTTON
FOR DINNER, AND I GENERALLY LOOK IN AT THE CONFECTIONER'S IN THE
AFTERNOON, AND INVARIABLY WIND UP WITH A GOOD SUPPER. WHAT DO YOU
THINK OF THAT?"

    [_Disappointed and misunderstood Uncle subsides, and thinks it
    best to make no comments._]

]

       *       *       *       *       *

THE NINTH OF NOVEMBER.

  The Lord Mayor's Show, I saw it from the Strand,
    I stood and waited there an hour or so,
  Till from afar there came with blare of band
                    The Lord Mayor's Show.

  In civic splendour and with footstep slow
    Passed the procession, glorious and grand!
  I liked the soldiers well enough, although
    The men from Deal looked quite at home on land.
  Yet I confess that when I came to go,
    I said that once a year's enough to stand
                    The Lord Mayor's Show.

       *       *       *       *       *

"THE BLACK ART" REVIVED!--"The best specimen of the Black Art," quoth
the Baron de B. W., "that I have lately seen, is the republication of
the works of the Wizard of the North, _alias_ Sir WALTER SCOTT, Bart.,
in a series of substantial library-shelve-ish volumes, printed in good
clear type."

       *       *       *       *       *

Q. E. D.

  Don't tell me of "room at the top!" It's a case,
  I'm sure, of "no thoroughfare." I'm at the base!
  Does that not suffice you? There only remains
  Some "room at the top" of your head, man, for brains.

       *       *       *       *       *

A DICKENSIAN QUESTION.--At the date when _Martin Chuzzlewit_ was
written, what may fairly be assumed to have been the fashionable hour
for dining?

       *       *       *       *       *

ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.

EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M.P.

_House of Commons, Monday, November 6._--PRINCE ARTHUR in fine
form to-night; made one of those speeches that distinctly enhance
Parliamentary reputation. Ticklish situation for Leader of Opposition
in face of Parish Councils Bill. Won't do, with General Election
within measurable distance, to declare plump against it; still
less will it suit party to support one of principal measures of a
Government whose successive steps, however devious, are all bent upon
goal of Home Rule. For two nights men rising from Opposition benches
have endeavoured to wriggle through this difficulty; been more or less
unsuccessful; PRINCE ARTHUR, with sure aim and light touch, does and
says exactly right thing.

By all means let HODGE have a voice in direction of his own affairs;
his best friend, the party who spent themselves in his behalf in
Corn-Law days, who acted in his best interests whenever question
of political enfranchisement or his relations to parson and squire
cropped up--the great Tory party would be the very last to slacken
effort for his prosperity. So anxious are they on the score, they
would not imperil opportunity by throwing out this Bill on the
Second Reading. But PRINCE ARTHUR showed, in little asides, that this
particular measure is badly conceived, not nearly so good as what
would have befallen HODGE had a Unionist Ministry been in office. For
an hour the PRINCE spoke, displaying perfect mastery of the subject,
managing, without assuming a hostile attitude, to bestow upon the
measure some damaging blows.

[Illustration: LIKA JOKO'S JOTTINGS.--No. 4. SCENES IN THE CITY.]

First time since House met Mr. G. began to show that keen interest in
proceedings which he seemed to have reserved for Home Rule Bill. Sat
listening intently with hand to ear as PRINCE ARTHUR gracefully glided
on from point to point. Pretty little sparring match when PRINCE
ARTHUR endeavoured to draw him into doing something damaging, either
in the way of reticence or declaration, touching GEORGE RUSSELL'S
explosive speech on Friday night. "I would not," observed PRINCE
ARTHUR, "have said so much, but I presume that in this matter the hon.
gentleman represented the Government of which he is a member." Mr. G.
shook his head. "Then he disclaims it?" Mr. G. shook his head
again. "Oh, then, though he does not dissociate himself from the
Under-secretary of India, he does not associate the Government with
his remarks?" Mr. G. again shook his head, finally explaining that his
young friend and colleague had merely revived former custom--existing
"in my early days"--whereby Ministers not in the Cabinet and not
connected with department specially concerned in matter at issue,
might enter at large into general debate.

"Here, here!" said ELLIS ASHMEAD-BARTLETT (Knight), for once in
agreement with the views of Arch Enemy.

[Illustration: T. H. Napoleon Boltonparty "objected to ladies being
Justices of the Peace."

_Justice Herself._ "Aha! Show me the man who said that!"]

_Business done._--More debate on Parish Councils Bill. As usual,
adjourned at midnight. Motion made that House forthwith adjourn,
OLIVER ROLLIT asks for more. Too early to go home; might as well sit
up till one o'clock, and take private Bills. House aghast. SQUIRE OF
MALWOOD discreetly says he will think the matter over.

_Tuesday._--Another night on Parish Councils. Debate should have
finished last night; finally arranged to close it before dinner hour
to-day; but it dribbled on to midnight. As there was an hour to
spare, TOMMY BOWLES, who since Session resumed has been silent in
six languages, thought he might as well say a few words. Romped in at
half-past ten; awkward this; about the hour when JOKIM had intended
to lift debate out of rut by one of his luminous speeches. THOMAS,
however, thought House would prefer to hear him. At any rate, he
provided opportunity. When at length JOKIM spoke upon subject on which
he is supreme authority, House almost empty, altogether languid.

Brightened up for moment at SQUIRE OF MALWOOD'S happy wit. JOKIM,
following on line trekked by PRINCE ARTHUR, suggested that half of
Bill dealing with Poor Law matters should be abandoned. "According
to judgment of SOLOMON," said the SQUIRE, "it was the true mother who
would not consent to divide her child in two."

A dreary night made endurable by incursion of
KNATCHBULL-HUGESSEN--HERBERT THOMAS, of Faversham division of Kent.
For many years his brother sat in House till he finally wobbled into a
peerage, and, as ROSEBERY said, wore his coronet as a crown of thorns
because it had been given him by Mr. G. When he was with us here, and
one turned to _Dod_ to find him under heading "HUGESSEN," there was
discovered instruction "See KNATCHBULL-HUGESSEN." This was explained
at the time on score that no one from day to day exactly knew where
_Hugessen_ was.

Different with his younger brother. "Sometimes," he said just now,
looking sorrowfully round the House, a gleam of comfort brightening
his eyes as they rested on a back view of JIMMY LOWTHER'S head, "I
believe I'm the only Tory left in the House."

To-night up and smote Parish Councils Bill in uncompromising speech.
No truckling to Socialism. No bowing the knee to the Baal HODGE. No
leaning on the arm of Rimmon as he goes to worship in the temple
of the Compound Householder. The Bill another downward step on the
pathway dug out for the chariot of Free Trade; the country going to
dogs at accelerated pace.

Small House, but it listened with delight to the most thoroughly
honest speech heard from any bench through many Parliaments.

_Business done._--Parish Councils Bill read second time.

_Thursday._--Still smiling at PRINCE ARTHUR'S joke; led up to with
great skill; last touch of art given in the look of startled surprise
with which he regarded uproariously laughing audience. Was passing
eulogy on RHODES and the Chartered Company, forasmuch as, whilst
certainly mowing down the Matabele with the Maxim gun, they had
spread the benefits of civilisation, "extending railways, extending
telegraphs, extending roads."

[Illustration: The Clark of the House causing a Division.]

"Exactly," said the SAGE OF QUEEN ANNE'S GATE. "I spoke for an hour
and a half, and BALFOUR puts what I had meant to say in a phrase. What
is all this action in Mashonaland, this spending of money, and making
of war, but the Extension of RHODES?"

MAGUIRE undertook to defend Chartered Company against attack of SAGE.
"Terrible work, TOBY," he said, mopping his heated brow. "Much rather
approach LOBENGULA'S kraal itself than stand up and face the House."

Had to be done, however, and MAGUIRE not the man to run away from
anything approaching a fight. Still he observed precaution of getting
as near the door as possible, speaking from remote end of bench,
almost outside limits of bar. Also he found some subtle comfort,
strength, and consolation in standing on one leg whilst he addressed
the Speaker. Sometimes it was the right leg, sometimes the left.
Whether on one or the other--not for a moment on two--he described
to the charmed House how the cherished object of Mr. RHODES, the one
desire upon which all the energies of the Chartered Company were bent,
was that the men of Matabele should "marry and settle down."

_Business done._--Discussion of affairs in Matabeleland.

_Friday._--Debate on M'LAREN'S Amendment to Employers' Liability Bill
brought to conclusion at midnight. Thought it would be all over before
dinner; dragged on hour after hour with ever deepening depression.
Seems as if already, in this first fortnight of Autumn Session,
energy's sapped; dulness certainly dominant.

"The fact is," said THE SQUIRE OF MALWOOD, "there is no fight about
the House now JOSEPH is awa'. Hear he is coming back towards end
of next week, balmy from the Bahamas, breezy from the Atlantic. I
shouldn't at all wonder if, upon his arrival, a genial change was
wrought in things generally."

_Business done._--Government defeat averted by majority of 19.

       *       *       *       *       *

QUEER QUERIES.

THE LONDON PROGRAMME.--I entirely approve of the spirited protest
lately made by the cabmen against that vile instrument of Monopoly,
the "Station Omnibus." But what I want to ask is whether there is
no plan of doing away with a still more nefarious specimen of
capitalistic greed and oppression--I allude to the "Out-Porter." Why
should this minion, of railway tyrants be permitted to take the beer
out of the mouths of honest English working-men? I and a number of my
pals are constantly loafing round the station in our suburb waiting
for a job of luggage-carrying, or if we aren't exactly _at_ the
station, we are always to be found at the Public just opposite.
Will it be believed that passengers actually prefer to engage this
avaricious blackleg, the Out-Porter, instead of employing _us!_ Their
paltry excuse is that he charges less than we do and is more civil.
That _shows_ him to be a contemptible blackleg! Only a serf of our
present miserable social arrangements is ever civil to anybody. Call
him an Out-Porter! If me and my pals catch him one of these dark
nights we'll make an Out-Patient of him! Is the mere convenience of
the public for ever to override the legitimate claims of the deserving
unemployed?--CORNER BOY.

       *       *       *       *       *






End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume
105, November 18, 1893, by Various

*** 