Punch 1898-04-23: Vol 114 Iss 2963

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VOLUME CXIV. aa APRIL 23,

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HOWARD BEDFORD. Ploughs, Harrows, Cultivators, Haymakers, Horse Rakes, Straw Trussers, Mowers, Hay Presses, Oil Engines, & Light Railways. SKINS ¥ ONFIRE Ww th torturing. o figuring, itching, burn- ng, seal and pimply humours, \ ved | a warm bath with (: tion of Corn of Cur tT! le app anc full 7. RA RA st of blood purifiers and Gitcura a Stes 7 Writ 4 os a, US a free nar " ouns and pe ir Purrfied and tifleu ( ’ ma Boar. | BENZINE ¢ oOLLas- Ask for * Colias,” & ~CLEANS D'(*S8E8 8 CLEANS DRESSES ES —CLEANS DKESSES _ | Benzin GOLLAS. Buy “ Collas.” IL, ~PAINT, GREASE STAR PAINT, GREASE rUns CLOTH, Re p° NOT BUY ee eae Bane COLLAS. As h for * Collas” wh te. oy yd way st xfordst ,W CIGARES..JOY| Joya Cigarettes) Immediately Relieve ASTHMA, WHEEZING, CHRONIC BRONCHITIS All Chemists, box of 36, 2/6,or Post Free WILCOX , 83, Mortimer &t., London, W. TRIAL SAMPLE FREE. . “PYRAMID t NIGHT LIGHTS Sold everywhere. CLARKE'S PYRAMID a FAIRY | LIGHT OO. Ltd, Cricklewood, London, N.W PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHAKIVAKL.—Arau. 23, 1898. TRY IT IN YOUR BATH SCRUBB’S Removes Stains and G a iaaae ae BUTTER-SCOTCH (The Celebrated Sweet for Children,, Na fsa Lancet Neo Camera is a Kodak woless made by the Eastman Co. The No. 4 CARTRIDGE ~ Kopax. An ideal Cycling Camera. Only 1 inches thick. Takes a picture 5 x 4 ins. “ LOADED IN DAYLIGHT. Price £5 5s. SEND FOR ILLUSTRATED Price List Photographic EASTMA Materials Co. Ltd. 43 Clerkenwell Rd. LONDON, L.c Retail Branches: 115-117 OXFORD STRERT, Ww. and fo CHRAPSIDE, E. CLOUDY FLUID MARVELLOUS PREPARATION. Refreshing as a Turkish Bath. Invalu sble for Toilet hy Splendid C: yo P pueparation or the Hair. Allays the Irr.tation cnt aased Inv. gorating in Hot R -»stores the Colour to Carpets, Cleans Plate and Jewellery. Price 1s. per Bottle. Of all Grocers, Chemists, Etc. SCRUBB & CO., 32> SOUTHWARK STREET, S.E. Ppots from Clothing. Mosquito Bites, limates Burrow’s “Soda.” If you want REAL SODA for your Whiskey, ask for it by its PLAIN NAME, and get BURROW’S if you can— It is by far the best. Pottled at THE SPRINGS, MALVERN. fa §=EXQUISITE COLOURS. BRILLIANT GLOSS. EASY TO USE. Aspinall’ S More Popular than ever. Sales increasing all over the wo | | £6 Gs, GENEVA TOUR, 9 bays. Mow Blanc), Zermatt Matterhern,, ,- ,-4 Ober land,ete. Lecturers, Sir Robert. ‘ball Mr Baward Wymper, Dr. Luna. Departures weekly = Mey 10. Details from 5 ile Gaidens, Euston, London, N.W £21 TO THE NORTHERN CAPITALS, St. Petersburg, Stockholm, Copenhagen ond Christiania, a yy by r. CONNOP PEROWNE, on the 8 *St. Rognvald,.” twenty-four days. Po plan and details, apply Seeretary, 5, Endsleigh Gardens Euston, London, N Ww. HOTEL METROPOLE, BRIGHTON. “The finest and most luxurious Seaside Hotel in the World.” Charges moderate. Proprietors: THE CORDON HOTELS, LTD. 5, Eudsle, QRIENTAL CARPETS. ORIENTAL CARPETS. (ORIENTAL CARPETS. TRELOAR’S LISTS OF SPECIAL SHIPMENTS. Enamel. TRELOAR & SONS, BEWARE OF CHEAP WORTHLESS IMITATIONS. WORKS, NEW CROSS, 8.E. EVERY HOME is beautified by PHOTOGRAPHS ano PHOTOCRAVURES A LAXATIVE, |, REFRESHING F FRUIT | LOZENCE, VERY AGREEABLE TO TAKE. TAMAR comer INDIEN FOR IPATION, Intestinal Troubles, Headache. Bee ae London: 47, Southwark Street, S8.E. SOLD BY ALL CHEM/STS AND DRUGGISTS, Qe. éa. A BOX. Heemorrhoids, Bile, Loss of Appetite, Gastric and | || USED IN THE ROYAL NURSERIES. UDGATE HILL. al for Catalogue. HOWARD'S PARQUET FLOORS d, From 3 per foot. Finest quality produced. Solid Oak Wall Panelling from 2s, 2d. per foot. 25, 26, & 27, BERNERS STREET, W. “PUNCH” ix being set up every week by LINOTYPE COMPOSING MACHINES. awvorys Moores Self-Digesting. Sold Everywhere In Tins. Ve, 2. ” BJ-, 10/- Z Mapbim s eo, Gian 158 to 162, OXFORD ST., W, 2, QUEEN VICTORIAST.,E.C.] Facing the Mansion House.) Maa wtory: The ROYAL WORKS, NORFOLK STREET, SHEFFIELD. lilustrated Price Lists Post Free. LONDON.

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| PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL. 181 Apri 23, 1898.] - ——— TZ — a cit z “LAST, BUT NOT LEAST.” ‘*THAT JUST PROVES IT. ‘“WHY DO YOU CALL HIM A Goop JockEYy? He CAN FINISH LAST ON THE BEST Horse IN THE Race!” HE NEVER RIDES A WINNER.” TALL SCORING. (A Bowler’s Nightmare.) Seatep in my study, I had just read in one of the evening papers that, in a recent | cricket-match between Melbourne Univer- | sity and Essendon, the former side had | compiled the record score of 1,697 in their | first innings, when.... “In my study,” did I say ? What an absurd mistake; why, [ was sitting in a cricket-pavilion, look: ing on at a match. And, apparently, I was talking to an old gentleman seated | at my side, who was making remarks on the game. Suddenly a loud cheer pro- claimed the fall of a wicket. My companion turned to me wrathfully. “ Just what I was saying,” he exclaimed. | “ These men aren’t the slightest use. Why on earth they are played for the county I can’t think. et at that, five of the best wickets down for something under — hundred runs! Perfectly sickening, I call it!’ “TI beg your pardon,” I asked, in some surprise, “but what did you say was the score ?” “ There it is, Sir,” he replied, brandishing | | his umbrella in the direction of the tele- | raph-board. “ Read it yourself—680 runs, ve wickets, last man 152. And they told us he was a coming man! 152, indeed! Simply paltry!” “Dear me,” I ventured to say, “but isn’t that a pretty fair innings? ” My companion became more indignant than ever. “None of your beastly sar- casm. You know well enough that if nowadays a man can’t make three or four hundred at least, he might just as well not go in at all. Ah! that’s more like it,” he broke off, as the new batsman let out at a half-volley. “Well run, Sir! Go again, gv again! Seven or eight more yet! There, that’s all! Stay where you are! Seventeen,” he added, turning to me again, “a very pretty hit.” “Very,” I assented, dubiously, “ but, pardon my ignorance, for I haven’t seen much cricket lately, is there any chance of this match ever being finished?” “Of course there is,” was the answer. “T dare say it will be quite short, and won’t last over a fortnight, although of course it’s set down as a three-weeks match. There’s a pretty stroke!” he added, as one of the batsmen dexterously snicked a fast ball through the slips for VOL. CXIV. thirteen. “ Come, thousand up now.” “And what,” I enquired, “do you con- sider a good average score?” “ Well, that depends. But on a tolerable wicket a strong batting side ought never to be dismissed under three thousand. As, however, this is only a trial match against the colts, 1 dare say the county will declare their innings closed pretty soon. Did you see that over? JoHNson drove that slow bowler for sixteen three times running, and then put him trickily to short leg tor eight. Look, there's the thousand going up now. Ah,” he ex- claimed, as the players all walked towards the pavilion, “I told you so, They've * declared.’ won't get your innings!” “My innings!” I gasped. —I’m not playing!” “ None ot your jokes with me,” said the old gentleman, with some asperity. “ Ii you’re not playing for the county, why are you wearing the county cap, and how is it you’re down on the card? I know who you are, right enough. Be off witk you, you’ve got to get out into the field uow ; there ’s the bell!” Overwhelmed with surprise, I walked across to the scorer’s table. There, sure enough, was my name among the list of the county team. So I went out to speak to the captain, who was already placing the field, meaning to point out that there was some mistake. To my astonishment, he called out to me by name, throwing me the ball, “‘ You may as well begin at that end,” he said. “I’ve put long-on about a quarter of a mile bebind the wicket. Will that suit you?” Then two batsmen appeared, and I began to bowl. Of all that happened subse- quently I have only a vague recollection ; we'll soon have the “ But—but after a short time a kind of grey horror | came upon me. But it seemed as though { were bowling for centuries to a pair of demon batsmen, who smote my most cun- ning deliveries for miles. It made no | Sorry for you, Sir, since you difference whether I sent in short-pitcled | balls or yorkers, all were treated alike ; | and when I was not bowling I had to run for hours—or so it seemed—before I could catch up the ball, whenever a batsman made one of his terrific hits in my direc- tion. In vain I appealed piteously to the captain to let me go home. “ Nonsense,” he said, “you’re bowling excellently. Why, they ’ve only made forty-two off your three last overs!’ How long the dreadful game went on | | cannot say. somewhere about two thousand, we got a At last, when the score was | man run out (he was trying to steal a | twelfth run off a cut that went straight to | cover-point), and therewith stumps were drawn for the day. I sank to the ground utterly cahentel and my captain came and looked at me derisively. “ Remember, we start play at 7 a.m. sharp | ‘ to-morrow,” he said. Mind you’re here in time.” “And we’ve only got one wicket!” I groaned. “That leaves nine to get, nine more wickets, and each of them———” A strange smile came over the captain’s face. “Nine more?” he interrupted. “You forget, this is a colts’ match, and we’re playing against a twenty-two!” At these awful words, I gave a shriek of despair and fainted... . and awoke to find myself in my study, seated before the fire, and with the evening paper still upon my knee. |

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Kise Vv PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARLI. [Apri 23, 1898, ay Vantin, “Yea Wy A B. ‘THANK YoU VERY MUCH; SO KIND OF YOU, “ETHER IN CHINA FRESH START. You cor my Wire ABovT your success IN Eoeyrt, Jonn?” But, Facta won Versa, your ImpeRiaAL MaAJesty. How ABOUT ACTING

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APRIL 23, 1898.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 183 DARBY JONES ON THE AND SUBURBAN, Honovurep Str, On the eccasion of the City and Suburban Handicap—note how artfully the title was chosen, “City and Suburban,” whereby a direct interest in the race was given to all dwellers East, West, North and South of St. Paul’s Cathedral—the Merry Lon- doner, far more jolly than the gloomy Parisian, bursts forth from his domestic stronghold, armed with his Wife and Chil- dren, solaced with Uncles, Aunts, Cousins, and Second Cousins, and fortified with Friends and Acquaintances. He is not, as a rule, an Aristocrat, but his coach, break, or “ charry-bang,” is “ up to the nines,” the bottled ale flows like the Song of a Min- strel, and the Sweeps are sufficient to over- whelm the traditions of May-day. The Merry Londoner means to enjoy himself at the pane of the Season, and opens with it like a Springtime bud. For him, there- fore, do ‘oo the Muse and mix the Possible with the Probable, and here goes: Caqliostro is no friend of mine, For the Sun I can have no respect, But the Donkey may break up the line And make light of the Royal Elect. Her Cousin in Scarlet and White Will fall to the Primrose and Rose, And the Norseman may make a fair fright When the Bay horse is finding his toe. Seotia’s Knight in the scarlet and blue May the Rooster- Assassin distress, And “ Amphi” the battle renew When the Ladyfort seems in a mess. Put the Mason tool down with the rest, And the Ready- Desirous for me, And the Merry Rose fight in the test With the Saint, who ‘s the winner, I see ! Such, honoured Sir, is the humble, but I trust harmonious, prognostication of Your obedient humble henchman, Darsy Jones. CITY THE PIPER. “The Piper of Dargai is being inundated wit! flers of marriage from ladies of rank and fortune.’ Daily Paper.\ Wao would be A piper bold, Sitting on high, Piping on high, A wonder to see, On the summit cold q Of Dargai ? I would be a piper bold. 1 would sit with my pipe the whole of the y; And fill - 4 sick-ward with the smoke of piu For my pipe would be a pipe of clay. And at — when the postman’s bugle I would sit. at the fireside, warm and snug, And open my letters and billets dour— Offers of ma jage in scores that came From ladies anxious to share my name, Eagerly, eagerly— Ladies of fortune and high Enclosing their photos that I And all of them dying for love Hopelessly, h apeleenly.. Then would I, with a critical air, Examine the pictures and pick out the fair, But ng ugly Pa throw to the fender below To burn in a I'd write to the beauties and tell them to call As soon as they could, and we’d laugh and we'd chat All day merrily, merrily. t see, me, shy a =H Nu NSM NY —_ Y > —_— . Y a & 1 A\\ \ | at \\ ee \\ i SA Ay ary i AV gat NOTES OF TRAVEL. Trish Emigrant (emerging from the steerage, feebly). MAKES THE SHIP GO ALONG!” Fellow Passenger. FirTeEN THovsanp Horse-poweEr.” Trish Emigrant, rue Sarasin?” ‘THis AIN'T NO SarLine Suir, ‘Firreen THovsanp Horses ! ‘*Wuere 's tHe Sams? War ts it Tus 1 A Steam Suir, ruts 1 THINK OF THAT NOW! AND WHERE Talk of the mermen! With envy and gall They ’d 4 greener than ever to see me at that All day merrily, merrily. Still, there’s one or two things they could teach me, maybe, How to court a dear damsel, and bow to embrace, But I’d find a more dry, less rheumaticy Than those nasty damp moss-beds under th © sea; I'd practise the lessons that they tanght me In the dreamy shades of Netley’s glades Laughingly, laughingly. Oh! what a happy life to face! Who wouldn’t be one of the Gordon blades With the ladies all making love to me? We would live merrily, merrily. Smaxsrrarux Morro (from King John, Act III., Sc. 1) or Excournacement To vase Doventy Kw»ionT, Six Gronor Lewis, Moneyr- IN HIs CRUSADE AGAINST THE Lenpers. — “ Constance. O, Lewis, stand fast!”

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| PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL. [Aprit 23, 1898. terion» [ An ‘ Imperial Railway Administration ’ is now a part of Chinese bureaucracy.”—Daily Paper. | Ir Curva ts TO HAVE RAILWAYs, OF CouRSsE THE DRAGON MUST ENTER INTO THE DESIGN OF THE LOCOMOTIVES, &C., AS ABOVE. OUR STEWARD. \ Nore rrom tHe Yacutine DIARY oF Tony, M.P. y. “ Maritana,” Loch Etive, Tuesday. Our Steward has just gone ashore inder care of captain and the ablest-bodied of our crew. Glad he got clear of the yacht without catastrophe. So awkward to have an exploded steward alongside, especially when you’ve just had the ship painted a spotless white. Some story in MaRrryat forget in which novel—where 1 seafaring man (or was it a bum-boat woman ?), after a lifelong application to the rum-bottle, lit his (or her) yipe in 1 casual way. The fumes of an old spirit- isk, as it were, caught light, and the verdict of the coroner's jury was “ spon- Our Steward lit bis Happily taneous combustion.” pipe as he tumbled into the boat. nothing happened. It wasn’t rum im the case of Our Stew- ird, but methylated spirits of wine. Evi- lence of its persuasiveness was visible when, yesterday afternoon, we joined the yacht for a cruise Skye-ward. Our Steward’s levotion to his duty was effusive but in- effective. Goimg below to dress for dinner, found there were no lights. No lights!” said Our Steward, his face beaming with desire to be of assistance ; there soon shall be.” Produced box of matches; smote a score n his breeches; as in most cases applica tion of the wrong end was made, result disappointing. At last struck a light. Ah!” said Our Steward, turning to survey us with radint glance of bene- till the light burned volence prolonged down to pis toil-worn fingers, and was cast ‘way on the newly-carpeted state-room floor More matches struck; some lit; applied to top of metal candlestick. Touching to watch, in flickering light falling on Our Steward’s ruddy countenance, the look of coaxing entreaty that made it irresistible. “Come now,” he said, cooing the candle stick as if it were a fretful infant that wouldn't take its food. Being merely a guest, didn’t like to in- terfere with trusted servant. At end of quarter of hour of futile match-striking, looked at candlestick ; found there was no candle in it. “Dear me, now,” said Our Steward, his face lighting up with beam of pleased astonishment. “Think of that!” Nothing disturbed him. At dinner, he planted out a dish of cutlets in the flower- pot; gently but firmly took away my soup after 1 had had two spoonfuls; knocked over a glass of champagne when handing round the bread ; and quite forgot the fish. He was up bright and early im the morning, joyous in the consciousness that candles were not needed. Our berths were under the dining-saloon, approached by a steep flight of stairs. Soon after five, Our Steward was about. Breakfast was fixed for nine o’clock. In a well-ordered ship there is nothing like being well ahead of your work. So about half-past five Our Steward began laying the cloth for breakfast. The process was long and mono- | tonous. It began with his bursting into the dining-saloon and clattering down on the table a handful of spoons and forks. Forks | seemed to bring to his mind the memory | of knives. Forth he went in search of | | frayed at the heel. “When a Srreer is ve ”— A very old-fashioned and most effectual way of “ Diverting the Traffic.” | Heaven only knows. them. But down below two people were sleepmg. It would never do in a chill April morning to leave the deck-door open | onthem. The draught might waken them, if it did no worse. So Our Steward, flying off to the galley, shut the saloon-door with a bang, like a pistol-shot. Back again in no time, hummimg softly to himself, “ A sailor’s wife a sailor’s star should be, Yoho! Yoho!” flung down on the table, quite in time, a bundle of something I knew were knives ; softly whistled another bar of Nancy Lee, whilst (I imagined) he regarded his | handiwork with that gaze of benevolent interest he had last night bent upon the amazingly empty candlesticks. Going out | again, and, still mindful of the comfort of | the sleeping passengers, he banged the | saloon-door as before. Plates were his next prize. There was |no doubt about this, for he let one fall. | A low whistle of astonishment in which there was just the slightest touch of irri- | tability at the perverseness of the thing, | followed. Then, lo! a strange thing hap- pened. The door of my state-room was wide open, in full view of the staircase. I caught sight of a booted foot cautiously descending. It was followed by another foot, with nothing on but a stocking much Gradually there came into view a broad stern as of an East Indiaman. It was Our Steward descending the staircase backwards. What for, As soon as he got to the bottom, he, with the same stealthy footstep, re-ascended, and the pistol-shot of the closing saloon-door announced his | departure. I fancy he must have thought he was going out on deck to the galley, and did not discover his mistake till he got to the bottom of the stairs. Much touched by his solicitude. Wouldn’t wake us on any account. Had evidently begun to take his boots off; thought he had completed the job. Meanwhile walked on tiptoe. More dishes; more plates; and, as we later discovered, tumblers instead of teacups, set on the breakfast-table. A finely subtle touch that. At half-past six he had nicely finished his work, and, surveying it, softly whistled a stave of

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| staircase. | heavily, depositing at the bottom of the | stairs a can containing what was left of our | the store cupboard, explained all. | West End shop, hanging up amongst the game and a brief | poultry. |

Aprit 23, 1898.) PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 185

Nancy Lee. Another bang of the door; interval; he was back again. [ heard a trickling of water down the Then the stockinged foot, com. ing first this time, followed at considerable interval by the booted heel. Soon the rounded stern hove in sight ; then the cap- less head. It was Our Steward, breathing hot water. That was the last I saw of Our Steward, save the parting view as he went ashore in charge of the captain. The Commodore, coming on deck and finding him a little mixed, straightway ordered him to be put on shore. An empty bottle that had con- tained methylated spirits of wine, found in

BIG GAME. { dead fox has recently been displayed in » I pIscovERED with amazement Lately that, in certain ways, Talk of “these degenerate days” meant Something more than just a phrase. Now I offer in confusion Praisers of the past a sop, I have lost one more illusion— In a game and poultry shop. To my utter stupefaction, There with partridges and hares Said to be of Russ extraction (E’en though dead, perhaps, to theirs), Midmost of a row of rabbits— Still the recollection shocks— Now oblivious of its habits Hung, alas! a gallant fox. There it was, past all denying, I would tell no schoolboy’s “cram ”- Lion, not precisely lying Down, but hanging up, with lamb! Here was fare a prince might pamper! Happy thought—a fitting end— Send it in an Easter hamper To an ardent hunting friend! Asked the price, the poulterer sought to Bargain—* Just what I can get.” “Get? Why, six months’ hard, ought to!” We have done no deal as yet. you What’s the use of indignation ? Decadent poulterers may display Placards, in a generation, “Fox is good and cheap to-day!”

“No Larks!” SN (it NG, MPN "i ss ' te “HOME, SWEET Husband (to wife, just returned from Continental trip). AFTER THE BUSTLE AND RACKET OF THOSE Fi TRANQUILLITY OF OUR OWN HomE, AND——” Cook & Co. (entering hurriedly), ‘‘ Kircnin’ CHIMNEY A-BLAZIN’, Mum ! IN THE Frere ENGINGs quick, Mum!” FLITTINGS. Kimberley, March 21. Dear Mr. Puncu,—I write a few lines, in the intervals of mosquito-slaying, in praise of the Great Karroo and the railway which bears you to the North across it. I will spare you a description of the Hex River ascent, where the line plays a species of cat’s-cradle with itself up gradients ot one in forty, and where you have an engine at each end of the train, which seems, like a kitten, to be running after its own tail, and where there is a “ out” every other day or so, and the sleepers go floating down a mountain- torrent—let sleeping logs lie, J say. It is the Karroo which takes my fancy. I don’t know where it begins or where it ends, but there is enough of it for the most eagle eye. There is a free and independent ring about the very name, a mixture of halloo and crow, exhilarating as the air which blows across you at an altitude of four thousand feet. As for the scenery, there is bright red earth and low grey shrubs, flat-top kopjes, or hills, in plenty to break the skyline, ant-hills in abundance, an occasional herd or drove (which is it?) of ostriches, a settler’s hut or a tree at intervals of about ten miles, and a thunder- storm every day. What more do you want ?

wash- | ld 1) fi; | a4 ie Y Ulu, Necie 4 * -—<—. = FR - WAAAAva j Wf, 0 U0” HOME!” **Now, DEAR, ISN'T IT DELIGHTFUL, REIGN HOTELS, TO BE BACK IN THE PERFECT Berrer ‘avi Then as to the train. When we parted with the Johannesburg section at De Aar | Junction (look this out in Bradshaw) our carriage was hitched on to a goods train of eighteen trucks, which contained Kaffirs, | brandy-kegs, and other etceteras. It was | I should say, a train specially adapted for botanists, picnickers and pedestrians, as it went so slowly up inclines that I got off four times and picked flowers and generally disarranged the landscape. The line is like |a switchback and goes up and down, and | also around any inconvenient hillock that may be in the way. Some of the stations | are simply name-boards, nothing more, but the names at any rate are familiar, ¢.g., Chalk Farm and Richmond Road, miles from any habitation, out in the open veld Then we bought a bottle of milk at Honey | Nest Kloof (a romantic name!), and when |we asked the dusky vendor if it was os triches’ milk, he said, “Ah, yes!” and nearly exploded as he disappeared round a corner. He will probably relate to his | dying day the tale of the two confiding pale-faces whom he once took in on a point of natural history. Towards the end of our pleasant thirty-six hours’ run we in- dulged in some shunting practice, with the result that the carriage-lamp imitated Newton's apple, and fell within an inch of the head of, Yours pooeainany, :

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16 Sent Stet Jones (alluding to the song). ‘‘ Not PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [Aprit, 23, 1898. BAD; BUT I THINK THE LITTLE MORE SPIRIT INTO IT WITH ADVANTAG . Lushing gion. LITERARY TOU TS. Ill.—Tue Soctat Krxp Amip the signs that indicate The coming hurly-burly, Cards for receptions, cool and late, And others, warm and early, [he polo-match, the Church bazaar, The dance of virgin gallants, You read it—“ Mrs. Purrin-Parr At Home. To meet the Talents.” | How well I know that woman’s card! lt meets my weary eye on The glass of every sucking-bard And young dramatic lion! And from enquiries I have made | gather this about it— No literary stock-in-trade Can be complete without it _ sven tr I WAS: THINKIN’. _L ESH AVANOTHER !” GIRL MIGHT HAVE PUT A I spoke of her to Toomas Brown (Gawayn Le Brung, he spelt it) ; That author’s literary frown In specious laughter melted ; ‘*Who is she?’ Well, she runs a kind Of what we call a salon ; Where (see the notice) one may find Tout ce qu'il y a de talent. “But who my hostess is, or what Her reason for existence, These questions, frankly, I do not Pursue with marked insistence ; I use her caravanserai, Like other public hostels, For meeting brother-genii, The pick of Art’s apostles.” “Take me,” I said, “for I would know That bright and hallowed region, Where men of light al leading go And prattle by the legion ; Surely some spell of power untold Lies hid behind those portals, That lure within one common bower So many rare Immortals.” | In brief, I went. My host betrayed A taste for my effusions ; | To all my published works he made Appropriate allusions ; Till in his ear my future themes Were touchingly confided, And when I left he knew my schemes At least as well as I did. Next week I chanced upon a “ par” Signed by “ The Burrowing Badger” : — “Gawayn Le Brune, that nascent star, | Long noticed in the Cadger, | Has done a volume, nearly due— French Morals and the Ballet ; | Last month, to catch the local hue, | He crossed (by sea) to Calais. |“ His book, which all should now secure, | Smacks of Oviprus Naso, With photographs d’aprés nature, Tres chic, if we may say so: One of our younger rising firms, | Pusn, Brorsers (doing nicely), | Has bought the copyright on terms | Too high to quote precisely.” Much marvelling how my friend Le Brune | (Plain THomas Brown, in private) Such booming in the eye of noon Could possibly connive at, I read again: “Jonn Jones” (that’s me) “His smart elucidation Of Hapakxkvk will prove, on dit, A perfect revelation.” Full details followed. I had been The victim of a vulture, A feeder off the fat, or lean, Of other people’s culture ; A licensed literary tout Who battens on his betters, And runs the column—“ Chats about The Chiefs of Art and Letters.” So was I taught the mystic truths Of mutual market dealings Beneath a social salve that soothes The artist’s finer feelings; | How host and guest work hand in hand On lines a little greasy,— | The enterprising squeezer and The enterprising squeezee. A HAPPY HOLIDAY. Now I really do not care a Hang about the Riviera, In the daytime you’ve a gay time, But the nights are very cold. And for any kind of touring Which I used to find alluring, I for biking had a liking, But I now have grown too old. Then the constant change of weather, To my thinking, altogether Knocked the notion of an ocean Trip completely on the head ; I’ve a horror, too, of “ trippers,” *Arrys, ’Arriets, and “ nippers,” So a jolly quiet holi- Day I spent at home in bed. Nioz or Rvss1a.—Out of compliment to the Leader of the House of Commons, the to rename Port Arthur, CzaR proposes “Port Arthur-Balfour.”

Page 9

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.—Apru, 23, 1898. “WELL DONE, ALL!” ATBARA, APRIL 8, 1898

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Page 11

Arrit 23, 1898.]} PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARILI. 189 we ; ‘ . i bi ' = 4 hd ' i i} ant 42 " Ln ee | \ "he, ply 41 \} Vee an qo ly iy. f == DIAGNOSED. Patient. ‘‘1’M FEELING WRETCHED, Docror. I TAKE NO INTEREST IN ANYTHING, HAVE NO APPETITE, CAN’T SLEEP——” Doctor. ‘‘ Way pox’t You MARRY THE GrRL?” PONGO’S PROTEST. A Protest? Ah, yes! And the being I’d bless Who would shame the fine dames with less wisdom than pelf, Who indulge us in doctors and dandyish dress, Until a poor doggie ’s ashamed of Keapealll Their own silly fashions our mistresses deem Are delightful to creatures less foolish than they. Mine togs me in chiffons and stuffs me with cream, But my life, I assure you, is other than gay. Dogs’ doctors, and tailors, and barbers! Oh, faugh! In my boots, fur-lined wrapper, with bracelet and card-case, I would, if I could, hide my face with my paw, For I’m an unwilling dog-dandy; a hard case! My idiot mistress may dress as she will ; She ’s heartless, and brainless, and victim to fad ; But to make me the victim of milliner skill, Is a horrible outrage that drives me half mad. Just look at me! Shaved, curled, and cossetted up Till I look like some caricature of a poodle ! What would mamma think of her favourite pup ? I wish I could cut the whole precious caboodle, 4 And wild, free, and natural caper and scamper About London streets, or far plains like a dingo, Afar from fool-women who selfishly pamper. I’d rather be Toby the Punch dog, by Jingo! His coat and frilled collar are all meant in fun, But mine! you can’t think what a guy I am made! A tight-swaddled waddler; can’t frisk, much less run, I’m too plump for a jump, and it’s years since I played. I don’t know = | own coat, curled all o’er like a wig, And I’m glad of the fur-lined top-coat just to hide it. I’m stupid, short-winded, and fat as a pig ; A mere waddling wardrobe, with misery inside it. My togs—so I’m told—are worth full twenty pounds, My toilet-club, doctor, and tailor cost money And though with my mistress that freely abounds To waste it on making me wretched seems funny. My night-gowns and handkerchiefs only would make A poor family happy. I feel like a hog: And when at my mistress’s fondling | wake, ye yy ee 0, & wre mase Of ad-made monstrosity ; selfish and silly. Int otee, whilet Ve hy nil! ye w poor I seem same -nilly. There! That is my protest. Now who'll bak trey In & way more effective than my feeble snarling, And gratitude earn from a r puffing pup, Who’s a plague to himself though his mistress’s darling ? OUR BOOKING-OFFICE, In Dearer than Honour Gag E. Lrvineston Prescorr has very nearly written a big book. If he had treated this first version as a rough note-book, left out some episodes and written in others, he (or isn’t it she ?) might have succeeded. The germ thought is a noble one; but it grows amid rank weeds of impos- sibility. My Baronite is not disposed to insist upon the prosaic in romance Gel. It is quite conceivable that a man of Ludovic Ord’s supremely fine nature might have sacrificed and suffered all he did for the sake of the girl he loved. But he would require some further proof of necessity than was supplied by the machi- nations of the melodramatic villain Finucane. Moreover, all the scenes in connection with Sister Sophia are ludicrously out of drawing. That the author feels these truths is indicated by the sub-title, A Fool's Tragedy. But why make such an incredible fool ? A Soldier of Manhattan (Surtu, ELpEr) fought at Ticonderoga, and, under the leadership of Wore, stormed the heights that led to the Plains of Abraham and the conquest of Quebec. Mr. JosEPH ALTSHELER has evidently made painstaking study of the period, and reproduces its episodes and characters with com- mendable fidelity. But his hand lacks the magic touch with which some earlier workers in the field of historical romance are ifted. His men and women are woefully woodeny, and his ttle scenes, carefully drawn from the best records, lack the glow of fire. Withal, the book is, my Baronite says, well worth reading, as dealing with a little-studied episode in the history of the Empire. With much gratification hath the Baron read Mr. 8, R. Crock- ET?’s Lochinvar (METHUEN), a spirited romance full of doughty deeds, clanging and clashing of weapons, firing of pistols, hair- breadth escapes, strange Scotch language unintelligible to the pock-pudding Englishman, skirmishes, and such a surfeit of exciting sensational scenes as would have sufficed Sir WALTER Scorr as material for three novels, and a modern dramatist for at least a couple of melodramas. And that the essential ‘‘ female interest” should not be lacking, Mr. CRocKETT gives us two full- blown heroines, one of whom he is compelled to kill, and two other fledgling heroines, whose necessary disappearance from the story causes a pang of regret to the reader, as it must have done to the author. But why doth Mr. CrockeTr so gently treat his melodramatic villains? Of course, as he lets down his arch- scoundrel easily, he is in justice compelled to permit the aforesaid arch-villain’s ‘‘ creatures” to escape scot-free. Alas! that it should be so, for up to the very end did not the Baron, with palpitating heart a bated breath, await some awful catastrophe which should put an end, and in excruciating tortures too, to ‘the Butcher, the Calf, and the Killer”? If ‘‘my Lord Barra” be permitted to escape, as he is, then hath mercy, and not justice, prevailed with the romancer. With real pleasure does the Baron recommend to all lovers of bustling melodramatic romance Mr. CROCKETT’S stirring and picturesque story of Lochinvar. In The Lust of Hate (Wanv, Lock & Co.), Guy Boorusy makes use of his own Dr. Nikola as ‘‘ Diabolus ex machind,” and as that mysterious, necromatic scoundrel is not brought to an untimely end, it is presumable that he may be ready to hand whenever his agency is again required for some other audaci- ously-schemed plot. The story, in which the situation of ship- wrecked hero and heroine on a desert island vividly recalls a few of the incidents in CHarLes Reapz’s Foul Play, is exciting; but the dénouement is inartistic, being not only too evident, but far too abrupt. In fact, the story is spoilt in order to give Dr. Nikola a chance of being ready when wanted for ‘‘ Mr. Boornsy’s next.” What a pity it is that Mr. Sherlock Holmes cannot be revived in order to be pitted against the nefarious Dr. Nikola / Tue Barow vz B.-W.

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_PUNCH, OR THE LON DON CHARIVARI. [Apri 23, 1898. GOING DOWN TO THE HOUSE AFTER THE HOLIDAYS! As IT IS, HE HAS ONLY HAD TIME TO MAKE ONLY CONSULTED IN TIME BY THE AUTHORITIES. So much MORE LocaL COLOUR MIGHT BE INTRODUCED IF OUR ARTIST WERE Ir WOULD BE IMMENSELY POPULAR IN THE STREETs ! CESSION, oF THE Pre A Roveu Desien ror tHe Hearn

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Avni. 23, 1898] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 191 ty “> wt 7 . ’ . » «9te® ,oa® ~ - ae ~~! } x i te aAtsane 4? UNENVIABLE Postrion oF Mar. Porries, WHose Recoxp Drive HAS JUST LANDED FAIRLY IN THE Kibs OF IKASUIBLE OLD CoLONEL CURRY, OUT FOR HIS CONSTITUTIONAL CANTER, THE COMPLEAT DUFFER. I HAVE fished in every way, Fished on every kind of day, But my basket still remains in statu quo, | Not a stickleback will rise, Not a gudgeon as a prize | | THE PATRIOT’S VADE MECUM., | Translated from the French Jor use al ie Second Zola Trial.) Question. What is your idea of the whole duty of a citizen? Answer. To regard everything from a purely sentimental point of view. Q. Is it necessary that the sentiment shculd be justified by facts ? A. Certainly not; such a consideration may be dismissed as a worthless detail, Y. How is France governed ? A. Chiefly by cries. Q. Is the cause of the ery of any im Te the quite amazing flies That I throw. When I try the purling brook, Many trout just have a look At my fly, or at the minnow, that I spin. With fishy leer they squirm Off, and my belief is firm That I’d better use a worm portance ? On a pin. | A No, so long as it is accepted by the | majority. Wherever I get leave, | Y. Are there any special names for the Still I fish from morn to eve, minerity ? rhough I never—hardly ever—rightly cast, | A. They are usually described as “ trai- With a body soaking wet, tora,” “ spies,” “cowards,” “ thieves,” “ as- With a mind intent and set On success achieving yet At the last. sassins,” and the like. Q. You say that France is chiefly go- verned by cries; give a few instances. A. Acry has been found strong enough to dethrone a dynasty, upset any number of Governments, and to establish three and abolish two republics. Q. Has a cry any power in the law courts ? A It has had supreme power, controlling judges, witnesses, and juries. a ee Q. But may not foreigners consider all : sf | this excitement, violence, and thoughtless Porker Versa (from our own Irre- ; Sve ie ness slightly hysterical ? pressible One, still ut large) —Q. Why is| {A mechine for amputation is yg ay Moit}| 4: Possibly; but the consideration can American pork not allowed to enter Ger-| oe Te : ‘’ | be speedily set aside. many? A. In order to protect the inte-| Tue Automatic DENTIST WILL NO DOUBT | Q. How? Not by a cry? rests of Ham-burg, of course. | FOLLOW THE AMPUTATION MACHINE. In my coat of wondrous tweed, And on every wandering weed, Hooks and flies unnamed invariably I fix. Here I cannot land a fish— I can only hope and wish I may creel a goodly dish In the Styx. A. Yes; by a cry of “ Long live France!”

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192 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [Apri 23, 1598. ‘Wor on, Birt! Were "AVE YER BEEN Montus?” rHis LARST THREE *Wuere ave I peen? Wor a Question To arstT! I sHoULD ‘A THORT YOU'D ‘A SPOTTED THAT FROM ME Gir-upP, I'VE JURST COME BACK FrRoM KLONDIKE!” 'OrANG Pre. The ruffian and his satellites hesitated to finish SLOPING FROM SILOMIO. Tue following paragraph, communicated to the Times, is inte- resting beyond the stirring information of international import- ance it conveys to the wondering world :— “The Chinese Minister, who is at Eastbourne, paid a visit to Sir Exxis Asumeav-Bart ett, M.P., and Lady Asumeap-BaxtLett at Grange House yesterday morning, and in the afternoon drove to Beachy Head. His Excel- lency returns to London to-day.” In the House of Commons, when SILomrio rises to put matters right, whether in China or Peru, Members incontiuently walk off into the Lobby, and thence to remoter corners of the building. The Chinese Minister, after a morning visit to the distinguished statesman, drives straightway to Beachy Head, and makes pre- paration for early return to London. Thus doth one touch of ASHMEAD make the whole world kin. FROM OUR SPECIAL COMMISSIONER IN CRIM-TARTARY. edge of a two-bladed razor (peculiar to the country), while my faithful followers, Grncan Snap and Orane Pip, were fastened by steel manacles to four fir-trees, which our diabolical persecutors had discovered growing out of the side of a precipice descending some 50,000 feet into the valley of the Lincrusta River, wandering like a streak of molten lead in the realm of the Unknown. I felt the two-bladed razor on each of my feet. It cut both my corns and my toe-nails. At the same time Crum-TatTo presented a re- volver at my head. It pressed my forehead, but at that moment I perceived by glancing down the barrel that it was not loaded. There was a great pause, during which I took some shorthand notes and drew a picture of the sufferings of Ginga Snap and their work, and as they discussed the situation, I winked in covert fashion to my comrades. It was enough! In an instant we had armed ourselves with some cocoa-nuts, which border-gipsies on their way to Lhass4 Races had abandoned by reason of the death of their donkeys. Our cowardly opponents fled before our well- directed shower of missiles. I rapidly released my companions, and we were free! free! free! for we had only to skip the frontier, leaving behind us some undesirable Yaks and those instruments of torture which have never been seen in Europe, and probably never will be. The British Resident was absent, but we were ‘all there.” KING CRICKET, Tae canny Scot may talk a lot Of golf and its attraction, And “ putt” and “tee” for him may be A source of satisfaction ; While maidens meek with rapture speak Of croquet’s fascination, Tho’ I suspect ’twere more correct To call their game “ flirtation.” But cricket’s the thing for Summer and Spring! Three cheers for cricket, of all games the king ! The man who boats his time devotes To rowing or to sailing, In shine or rain he has to train, With energy unfailing. A tennis set finds favour yet With merry men and matrons, In lazy souls the game of bowls Is not without its patrons. A day that’s fine I do opine Is much to be desired ; An “even pitch” I ask for, which Is certainly required ; Then add to that a “ steady bat,” A bowler “ on the wicket,” A “field” that’s “smart,” then we can start The noble game of cricket. A parapise for whist-players and mas- sage-patients should be found (judging by the name) in “ the Rubber Estates of Para.” “TAKING THE ALFREDIAN CAKE.” (A Historical Romance re-written for an ap- proaching Millenary, by one who does not believe in Traditional Heroes.) Tue belated huntsman passed across the drawbridge and entered the castle. In those Saxon times only some half-dozen retainers stood awaitmg strangers in the hall. The Danes had taught the inhabi- tants of the British Isles a certain measure of prudence, but yet they retained their freedom. “Is the lady of the house at home?” asked the aristocratic caller, throwing the reins of his horse to a lackey. “At your service, my lord, but the countess, who is partial to cookery, is in the kitchen,” was the respectful response. “Thither will I go and serve as my own introducer.” Saying this, the hunts- man found his way to the lower regions. The countess was certainly making cakes, She had around her a number of subtle essences and sauces, and in front of her was a book of home, gorgeously illumi- nated, containing valuable culinary recipes. “Fair lady, pardon this intrusion, but I am a bit of a chef myself. Can I help you?” The countess evidenced some confusion. Then she made obeisance, and being called away by other visitors, quitted the rush- strewn apartment. Left to himself, the sportsman carelessly mixed certain ingredients together imto the shape of a cake, and setting it before the fire, waited the result. He threw himself upon a couch and fell into a slum- ber. He had not been unconscious for an hour, when he was aroused by a blow. Springing to his feet, he indignantly con- fronted his assailant. It was the countess, now furious with anger. “How dare you?” she cried. “How dare you? You have allowed the cake to burn!” “A blow!” he exclaimed, pale with | rage. Then he blew his horn. In a mo ment the kitchen was filled with soldiers. “Take that woman,” he continued, pointing at the now trembling countess, “to the deepest dungeon under the castle | moat.” The lady was loaded with chains. “Who is this tyrant—this lawless ty- | rant?” she asked, as she was being con- veyed to her cell in procession. “Why, lady, the king.” “What, Alfred? Listen to me, varlets. I tell you that the day shall come when this monster of cruelty and stupidity shall be known in the land of his birth as ‘ ALFRED THE LitTLE.’” And so it came to pass. For a thousand years later—at the close of the nineteenth century—the prophecy of the countess be- came fulfilled. ALrrep THE Great, in those days of historical enlightenment, disap- peared, to reappear as ALFRED THE LITTLE.

Page 15

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Page 16

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.—Aprit 23, 1898 g THE ARMY and the Navy-Cut for ever. ° ; it is sold only in 1-02. Packets, and in 2-0z., 4-0z., 8-oz., and 1-Ib. Tins, which keep the Tobacco ia PLAYER’S “NAVY CUT” is the ORIGINAL and the BEST. fine smoking condition. Smokers are cautioned against imitations. Always ask for **PLAYER’S.” Printed Wf Subard streets in the Precast ot Whitetars, in the Cit} of Loudon, and published’op hiss t'No: 86, Poet irect in tes Pastan of 6 rile, Oty of London —Bareusatt apeh s,Q .