Punch 1898-12-24: Vol 115 Iss 2998

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~~ _ = CHOCOLAT MENIER of | is Pine aie eID D>) : \ : is el) Mi | ei ‘= i A rh AS Pun mmane i : . 4 i ; PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY, VOLUME —~—— ee a EE SCTE) eae DECEMBER 24, ii | : ll i re Al he SS STH >, DUNC A VOL. a. Ue EPP NFOTT OS |, PRICE THREE PENCE. aa- NOTICE —Communications or Contributions. wnetner MS., Printed Matter, Drawings, or Pictures of any description, will not be .eturned unless all Ky |) —~—s =" \) ‘a pw ee 1 | Fes * f A, 28 in : { * hie : in | an NAS Aa Ma Cm) SI! 1% | eS A) { “at " ‘ ‘in : My, \ t WW NN Ci Dy \\ » " LENS yer al} Pall sees 24) PUNCH OFFICE, 85, FLEET STREET, LUNDON. 275 GOLD MEDALS, &c. ERY'S concise C CONCENTRATED “The richest in flesh-forming and energy-producing constituents.”’—Dr. Anorew.Witson, F.R.S.E., &e, ‘

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DecemBer 24, 1898.]} PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. Little Boy. **How MANY STEPs CAN you Jump, GranpMa? I can Jump Fovr/” ' PAaTERFAMILIAS. CHRISTMAS. . | What! Christmas here again ? (From various Points of View.) | Impossible! I vow, Sir, Fizivs. | It’s not six months—— Upon my word, Hvrran! Good old Christmas for ever! It’s always Christmas now, Sir! Adieu to old SwisH and his cane, Our —- world, with every year, And I shall be able to sit at a table | Until ke wea In relative comfort again. nti! tae “oy cs — iieen And as for old Cassar, and Livy, One streak of rates and taxes. And Xen. with his blest parasangs, — | The boys are home—the little bears! We'll give ’em the chuck, boys, and jolly | Just listen to their riot well tuck, boys, : | As they toboggan down the stairs— At turkey and cream and méringues. Farewell to peace and quiet ! : : , | They racket through the livelong day The grub! Oh, to think of it! Crikey! ' . Unlimited trifle and jam, | ‘They make the whole house muddy . | With dirty boots, and ugh! they play With dozens of dishes undreamt of at| At football in my study. Swisu’s, And nothing to do but to cram. | Christmas, I dread thee! Dread to meet Oh! why is it Christmas so seldom ? | My k of noisy gluttons, While Sunday, by some silly freak iI doead to watch them over-eat Until they burst their buttons. If I had arranged ‘em, by Jove, I'd have | | Thou, Christmas, if it lay with me, changed ’em And ordered « Christmas a week. | With thy unsettled weather, Absurd! And more unsettled bills, shouldst be Abolished altogether. Lavpator Tremporis Acrtt. When Christmas-tide was drawing nigh, And turkeys roasted at the range, Was none so blithe of heart as I— Then what has brought about this change P ’Tis not that I am altered, not That I am older. "Tis because Christmas is now no longer what t was, And Christmas fare is not the stuff That used to make my bosom glad ; I never used to get a To satisfy me, when a lad. But now I swear—it is no whim— This stodgy stuff you feast your boys on, It is not pudding, it is sim- ply poison. Again, when Winter froze the lake, Swift as a swallow I would fly, And vines and figures I would make, “The cynosure of every eye.” But now I shudder when I see The slides the boys make at my gate— Ice has become so slippery Of late. No! Christmas is no more the time It used to be, beyond a doubt, Ere yet the world was past its prime Or Ia martyr to the gout. And since the cooks no longer know Their art, I will not dine. Instead I'll sip my arrowroot, and go To bed, A Svuecerstion to a Pusiisner.— Mr. Henry Frowpe, announcing the Oxford edition of the Poets, commences by adver- tising The Orford Whittier. Why doesn’t Macmi.uan of the sister university go one better, and bring out “The Cambridge Wittiest ” ? SEATS OF THE MIGHTY.—III. Tae Harrrerp Dietomatic Omar, The framework of this charming piece was for a time in the office of the S-t-rd-y R-v-w. Since much enlarged, and stuffed with “ ful conces- sions’’ (prepared chemically), Lately this chair has shown an unexpected stiffening in the back, and as become very uncomfortable to any diplomatist | who trys to sit upon it. VOL, CXY, oe

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290 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [Decemper 24, 1898, —_— / ies \ MN N' i i : MMs g yfj,' EYGLN 4) whammy) 7 7 CLL AA GE; Za CA 4 LA ll///})\\\ SS af, 1 READ | RAR ran cana \ . AAA\A\LLAANANAY AY\ © ANA \\ Z \\ Aw AWS \ i THERE MUST BE SOMETHING WRONG WITH THE MAcHINERY !” , “A PANTOMIME REHEARSAL.” , Mr. Harirori.” l'VE WAVED MY WAND LONG ENOUGH, Stage-Manager (S-l-sb-ry). ‘‘'THat TRICK OF YOURS DOES NOT SEFM TO WORK Joe (Ch-mb-ri-n), ‘‘ Wei |

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December 24, 1898.) MORTE D’HARCOURT ; OR, THE BALLON D’ESSAI. (Being a Fragment adapted from the Idyll told ** At Francis Allen's on the Christmas-eve."’) * * * _ THEN murmured Haroovurt: “ Place me in the car.” So to the great balloon they strolled along. And those three knights, the doleful Jean l’Honnéte, Sir Bel-champ Porte-drapeau, Sir Cop-la- poule, Over the side heavily hoisting him, Took out their handkerchiefs, and wept therein. But he that had the sternest eye of all And wettest, he the penman, Jean |’Hon- néte, Arranged the Chieftain’s head upon his lap, And loosed his morion and chafed his chin Duplex, and ran his fingers through the locks That like a lion’s or the rising sun High o’er the field would flame with ardent fringe. Then he unlaced the cuirass, letting out The ones in grievous pants ; and dropped a hint Darkling, of foul play, mentioning no names. So like an extinct mammoth lay the Chief ; Not . a Harcourt who, from head to ee Plantagenet through all his azure blood, Let off his Budget undernrath the eyes Of gracions ladies beaming through the grille. Then loudlv called the doleful Jean ’Honnéte For ink and plume, and took his scroll and wrote: “O my dear Harcourt, what are we to do? For lo! the former times are now defunct When every day produced some gallant scheme For riding out to tilt at human wrongs— The Union, or the Church, or else the Drink— And every scheme some gallant lance to run it. Such times have not been since our errant knights Took sheme of wearing shamrock in their hair. And now the whole Rounp Tasiz breaketh up, And on its legs the heathen hack their names, And I, the last of all thy true Elect, As in a dim-brown studv I am left To write the record of the davs that were.” He ceased, and made a cony for the Press, And on the fallen warrior’s failing heart Pinned the original ; and so with pain Over the side, fearfully clinging, dropped. Then slowly murmured Harcourt from the car: “The good old order changeth; ay, per- chance It was too large an order—who shall say ? For men may have too much of one good thine. aa I go; I have done my work, and ee My conscience all serene. Yet let thy voice Roll like an organ for me in the Press, at men may the worth of what they lose. And now farewell! I am addressed to go A strange excursion—if indeed I go, (For I myself have had my doubts of this)— To some far-off aérial Lotus-isle, PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. ‘Tl say, Brutrz, TEACHER SAYS AS IF WE ANGS OUR STOCKINGS UP on O’RiIs’MAs Eve, Santa OCLAUS’LL FILL 'EM WITH PRESENTS !” ‘*Ir’LL TARE "IM ALL ‘IS TIME TO FILL Mine, I AVEN'T GOT NO FooTs IN ‘eM !” A land where it is evermore P.M. ; Where falls not any noise of party-strife, Nor horrid hum of rival leaderships, Pendent a personage of stateliest port, But all is inward calm, with ample space _| That earthward shot; and ali the people For writing reams of letters to the Times.” | cried : He ended, having finished. Then the | “ Harcourt is come again! We knew he twain, would!” Sir Bel-champ Porte-drapeau, Sir Cop-la-| And Cymric voices echoed: “Come again! poule, | He never meant todie!” Whereat I woke, Planted on terra firma, cut the rope, | Rose, dressed, and told my dreaming to the And looking each on other slowly winked. | i But the balloon, unwitting how it bore The weightiest remnant of the Tasie | RovunD, Made for the Ewigkeit. Then Jean |’'Hon- néte Deep-pondering stood at gaze, until the Pal Archibald. I say, grandpa, why do the Shewed as a flea athwart the vast inane; | Russians begin the New Year on a different Then, turning through the Forest, wearily | day to what we do? drew Grandfather (R.N., retired). Oh! I sup- To Lyndhurst Road, and took the train for| pose that one of our ambassadors once town. signed a treaty on the first of January, and Here ceased the speaker's tale. So I to| the shifty beggars wanted an excuse for bed ; | breaking it. | And dreaming far into the Christmas dawn, Beheld a parachute, end therewithal wise, But there was none that could expound the thing. A Diplomatic Solution.

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292 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL [Decemper 24, 1898. | i i * Mi an | | Hi 'y r | iiie:| { jh } 1 ih ey my ici - t i) Wi al Wall | ‘\ ' {iI DIVIDED RESPONSIBILITY. Master of the House (just returned from the theatre). “‘ Wu ir | AM, WHOSE FAULT 's THAT? Giles. ** WELL, GILEs, You "RE—YOU "RE DRUNK!” Isa your Wins!” OUR BOOKING-OFFICE. Dickens and his Illustrators (Groncr Repway), by Frep. G. Kirton, It is not merely to “ students of Dickens ” that this admir- ably-produced book will appeal, but to all who take an interest in the works of such illustrators as Groncs Crurxsnank, R. Sey- mourn, Hablét K. Browne, Joan Leecu, Marcus Stone, R.A. Loxe Frupes, R.A., Dicky Doyts, Sir Joun TENNIEL, CLARKSON STANFIELD, R.A., ‘Sir Epwix LANDSEER, R.A., Grorcr CatTEr- MOLE, and ‘other good names, of which the least known is that of Ropert Bass, who seems to have been generally successful except in the few illustrations he was, on Seymour’s death, called upon to do for Pickwick. To the Baron’ s thinking, no one, on the whole, illustrated Dickens, that is, pourtrayed the figures that Dickens intended, so well as did “ Puiz.” Farcical, burlesque, outrageously 80 occasionally, yet the figures (such, for example, as Micawber) were only Dickens out-Dickens’d. Yet, are not the novelist’s eccen- tric creations imprinted indelibly on our memory through the medium of their representations by “Paz”? Perhaps after a term of uninterrupted collaboration, Dickens came unconsciously to create the types that “ Paz” could most successfully draw. Then, of Joun Legcn’s illustrations to the Christmas books, how memorable are his Trotty Veck and Tilly Slowboy! The Baron has before him the first edition of The Haunted Man, with five illustrations by “J. Tennret,” five by Leecn, three by Sranrretp, R.A., and two by Frank Stone. The delightfully- fantastic yet graceful frontispiece and illustrated title are “ very Tenniel.” One would think twice before allowing a playful Kitton to remain in a library; but there can be no doubt in the mind of any Dickensian student as to the propriety, if not neces- sity, of giving this particular Kitton a place on an accessible shelf as soon as possible. “That ’s rayther a sudden pull up, ain’t it, Sommel ” which | D being old Mr. Weller’s as os — on Sam’s love-letter, is very much ng the observe, without the Sammy,” to Mr. W. W. Jacoss, — reading almost any one of his capitally-told stories in his volume entitled Sea Urchins (LAWRENCE AND Butien). To which Mr. W. W. Jacozns would simply reply, with Sam Weller, “Not a bit on it; she ll vish there wos more, and that ’s the reat art o’ letter writin’.” And, substituting ‘ ‘short story” for “letter,” the Baron, on consideration, is fain to admit that Mr. Jacons would be quite right. Yet his stories are so humorously tantalising, he tells you so much, and that much so well, that when they ‘break off suddenly and you part with the characters, never to see or hear of them again, the reader experiences a sense of loss; he returns over the ground, searching carefully to see if he has missed anything, and finding that he has not, he goes on to the next story, expecting that this fresh one at least will amuse and interest him as much as have those he has already read, and will also satisfy his curiosity in regard to the future of the individuals in whom he is sure to become interested. But the stories as they are finished or unfinished, are all good; not an indifferent one in the whole lot. For choice, the Baron would select “ The Smoked Skipper,” “The Cabin Passenger,” “Choice Spirits,” and “Brother Hutchins.” But, capital asthese are,“ The Grey Parrot” “takes the cake.” This troublesome bird, on account of his impolite language, strong even for a parrot, is put in an out-of-the-way room, where, “with a cloth thrown over its cage,” it “ spent most of its time wondering when the days were going to lengthen a bit.” There’s a dash of tragedy in one story, but 1t soon merges into comedy, and “An Intervention ” —a most original incident—ends in a ‘quiet chuckle. The col- leetion of stories must be bracketed with the same author’s Many Cargoes, and they would be hard to beat even if “Boz” were with us to give a fresh series of his “ sketches.” Of A History of the Dreyfus Case (Snuapxin, MarsHAlt, Hamitton, Kent & Co.), by Gzorcz Bartow, I need only say that those who wish to know the wretched and tragic story of REYFvus from the beginning, cannot do better than read this excellent account. It is set forth with admirable clearness, an with very high literary ability, and is more deeply interesting than any novel I have read for years past. By George! Barlow has done it—rather. Tax Baron ve B.-W.

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R&S Se Decemser 24, 1898.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. oe KITCHENER. (In the metre of Mr. George Meredith's Poems, recently published. ) pee m fe the Soudan, sun-smitten, calorific, scorchant, Fart from the quenchless, tonant town-councils, no longer amort, Persistent to harry his leisure, immeasurably scant, With receptions repercussent ‘and Giibeems adulatant, or some- y pice. oes sort ; eal iniiniaa ar from dinners, magnanimous, us Far from orators, catastrophic, —— glummering on, Some mumble, with hesitations murmurant, ve fluent with indefinite jaw-cackle, prank, All glaucous and tommyrottant ; For Toon redundent busybodies difficult to dodge. Oh, my eye, after such a fling, What paradisiacal - in the incalescent, arenaceous deserts, which The equinoctial ups of the Nile! Thos, later on, in the College, cumulative, quenchless, of the IRDAR, Highcockalorumjig hip hip hurrah Panjandrum, The inconscient, tenebrious blackamoors Will learn The English tongue. Not, let us fervently desiderate, the English of CamiYua, Bogglant, Teutonic, repellent hoots glum, Jaw-gapes athwart ing far, Ridged up for boors ; Nor yet the English of Krrirne, Lambent with exotic gabble-quirks, In a “ Madrissa for Hubshees, £ ae for Soudanese, dolorous, decrescent, nigerous, young ; Not the be age of Kreurnc, who makes “fourth” rhyme with And on men” with “ again”; evocative jerks! What on earth Made him do it? Neither of these, Nor yet the graceless, unapt English of the crowd, Of the braggart butcher, the bodeful baker, or the calamitous candlestick-maker, Of the scornful omnibus-conductor, Stag erant in the spirally upward of the omnibus steps. > stockbroker, white-waistcoated, declamant, penetrant, Of P tolerant tinker, = the triumphant, tonant, towering tailor ; No! They ought to learn that immarcessible English, Clarion, equipollent, succourful, Clamant as the orang ballyrag when cabbage-stalks spurn, Veridical as the adolescent hippopotamus, Voicing the delinquent chimney-pote forthwith, Grumous as fried fish, Rumpling lapis lazuli boomerang electro-plated bull Mountainous brain-awake friable malignant omnibus; That is what the Soudanese must learn— The English of Gzorcz MerepitTH. CLOWN IN FUTURO. A Voice f rom the J uniors.—Now that we are within measurable distance of Boxing Night, it is just as well that it should be understood that the young do not require any of the so-called “childish fun” of our ancestors. clown is out of date, and no boy or girl cares a fig about the clumsy inanities of the Pantaloon. What we of the rising generation desire is beautiful scenery, interesting and expensive dresses, and lots of intricate ee a | What can there be amusing in a person with a red patched face making a butter-slide for the discomfort of some score of wretched supers? Dancing may help our sisters how to comport themselves at a bail, and an effective spectacle may satisfy the cravings for the esthetic of our brothers. And then let the —— of the entertainment intended for the younger members of the audience commence at a reasonable hour—say nine o’clock. Then, after the play is over, the boys and girls can go either to the club for bones and a smoke, or the boudoir for a soup and a chatter. Not that I admit myself to be a boy, as }' am forced to sign myself A Fosst or Firreen. A Voice from the Seniors.—I really must protest against the idea that seems to be gaining ground that people who have come to years of discretion want to see daneing and scenery. All that sort of thing may do fairly well for our descendants. Gertie (to Cousin, a beginner), “‘ AND WHY DO THEY CALL THE Boys ‘Cappigs’!” Cousin. ‘‘ OH —ER—BECAUSE—ER—DON 'TCHER KNOW, THE ‘Cappig’ HOLDS THE ‘Txx.’” Fertie, ‘‘On—a—n—H ! What we want is the drollery of the red-hot poker. There is nothing pleasing in watching a lady—who is old enough to know better—walking about the stage on the largest of her toes. And as for stage cloths, don’t we know that they have a seamy side and that all is not gold that glitters? The fun of our old ‘friend the Christmas Clown is always vastly entertaining. If any one is to be cut out, let it be Columbine, with her pointless posing. ; let us have plenty of “ spill and pelt. ” And as for the time, ah our portion of the pantomime come reasonably early—say seven. A dinner at five, and bed well before ten is tne rational régime of the seniors. Then, even those who admit to be elderly, will enjoy what is known as “ beauty’s sleep.” Not that I admit I am aged, as I beg to sign myself, A CuiLp or Seventy. What! Ovr op Frienp Saira ?—Perennial Tom Smirn! Crackers again! “ Artistic Crackers,” “Toy Crackers,” “ Man- darin Crackers,” “ Blossom Whispers,” and varieties of all sorts of Crackers except nut-crackers ! Evidently Tom draws the line here, that is, for this year, as the omission having been pointed out to him, Tom Smirx will puzzle his “nut” in de- vising some entirely new sort of cracker for the end of the cen- fury, to equal which will be the despair of future Tom Browns, Tom Joneses, and Tom Rosinsons. As the convivial chorus goes :— Here ’s to yon, Tom SuitH, Here ’s to you, with all our heart. But what the rest of it is—substituting “ Brown” for “Suita,” in the original—we are at a loss to recollect; only, once upon a time, it was a chorus which evoked sentiments of eternal friend- ship—late, very late, in the evening. From “Go.tpen Lanz.”—This sounds quite a Fairy Locality, where dwells the Fairy Favtxner, from whom Mr. Punch has received delightful specimens of his magic in the shape ot Christ- mas cards, pictures, almanacks, and other faérie fancies. There are Vv pretty diaries, which ‘make the year look gay through- out; there are eccentric games and is of all sorts, pretty, plain, comic, but always the “Correct Cards” for Christmas. Prorze Puant ror a Crown.—The Columbine.

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294 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [DecemBer 24, 1898. GIVING HERSELF AWAY. 7 Mistress. “ Jane, |'VE MISLAID THE Key or my Escrirorre. I wish you ’D JUST FETCH ME THAT Box or opp Keys. | pARESAY I CAN FIND ONE TO OPEN IT.” Jane. “ly’'s No Use, Ma'am. Tuere tsy't A Key ox THE 'OUSE As ‘LL FIT THAT Desk.” A MERRY CHRISTMAS! “A Merry Christmas !”—Yes, I know How blandly people smile to hear That good old Seana of long ago— It is so smart (and hard) to sneer! That Christmas now’s a cheerful pose, Good will to men and Christian charity Exploded myths, each baby knows, Rod learns to crow with forced hilarity. Your youthful cynic, rising two, Turns up his nose at Santa Claus ; At three, the childish joys are few He fails to damn with faint applause. At four—the blasé age of four— He finds the pantomime detestable, Bran-pies and Christmas-trees a bore, Plum-pudding even indigestible. So he grows up, all joys and griefs Dissecting with a cynic knife, Destroying all the old beliefs, And losing half the salt of life. Worst of all modern ills I hold This cheapening of childhood’s treasures, This reckless hurry to grow old And slay with sneers youth’s simple pleasures. 1 “A Merry Christmas! ”—You and I Can greet without a sneering tongue— I pray that as the years go by “hey find your heart and mine still young. ‘Grey head on shoulders green ” to-day Commands the applause of all beholders, Yet more to be desired, I say, Is a green heart beneath grey shoulders! As in the Western Hemisphere, So in the map of Life are seen Two continents—one green, one sere— With a long isthmus in between. And ali mankind, both great and small, Both good and bad, both dull and clever, One stage a year are journeying all, And journeying Southward, downward, ever. Some never reach the isthmus, some Their steps far South beyond it bend— Yet all men, come whate’er may come, With ~ ae still young their course may end. I, having passed my thirtieth stage, Not yet half way across the isthmus That joins the Lands of Youth and Age, Can wish you still—‘A Merry Christ- mas!” A MODERN REHEARSAL, Leading Lady (to Stage Manager). Who’s that man in the ulster-coat talking to the call-boy ? Stage Manager. Don’t know, I’m sure. Perhaps a gas-fitter. Now, as I was say- ing, Miss Friserre, I think that all your alterations in the dialogue are quite up to date, but we must give SpLiTTeR a chance for his cackle. Ah! here he is. Splitter. Well, old boy, I’ve worked in that scene to rights, but the boss thinks that some allusions to Turkey served up with German sausage would fetch ’em. So you might chuck it in for me. Stage Man. Of course I will. Capital idea. (Marks prompf-book.) 1 wonder who that chan is in the wing? Splitter. Haven’t the faintest idea. Looks like an undertaker. Hallo, Wos- BLER, brought your new song? Wobbler. Yes, it ought to go. And I’ve a gross or so of capital wheezes. Snlitter. No poaching, old chan. Wobbler. Of course not. I’ll not let them off when you’re on. Morning, Miss Skip. Perfect, I suppose. Miss Skid (brightly). I’m always “ per- fect.” But—(seriously)—I had to ent all the idiotic stuff in my part, and get Prrrr Quire of The Kengaroo to vut in something up to date. Here’s the boss! [Enter Mr. Fooruytr, the manager, amid a chorus of salutations. Stage Man. Places, ies and gentle- men. Mr. Footlyte. Before we begin the re- hearsal, IT would point out that Ihave com- pletely rewritten the Second Act. and The Stranger in the Ulster. But, Sir, I ber of you to remember Mr. F. Who is that man? FP veryhody. We don’t know! Mr. F. (advancing). Who are you, Sir, who dare to trespass on my premises ? The S. in the 1. Don’t you remember me Mr Feorivre? Mr. F. No, Sir, I do not. bueimess ? The S. in the 1. author of the riece Preryhody Ha' ha' ha! Mr. F. Then you’re not wanted here. (To Stage Manager.) Jenxins, clear the stave. [The author is shown out. Rehearsal pro- ceeds. Curtain. What ’s your (nercously). I am the PROVERBS GONE WRONG. You can’t burn your candle at both ends and eat it too. It My a thankless child that has a serpent’s tooth. Where there ’s a Will there ’s a Codicil. It is an ill wind that never rejoices. A watched pot never rejoices. One man may look at a horse over a fence, but another mayn’t. A stitch in the side sews you up.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL—Decemser 24, 1898. SS — Ee. =— — W4 UNDER THE MISTLETOE. Miss Wiznetmina Harncover (to Miss Joawna Mortzy), “REALLY, MY DEAR, I DON’T THINK IT SEEMS MUCH USE OUR STAYING HERE ANY LONGER. . . . THEY WONT OOME!”

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Decemper 24, 1898.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARLI.

———— = =< Proprietor (a well-known Fox destroyer, who has on the quiet had a ‘‘ bagman” twrned out), ‘‘ UNOCOMMONLY FINE Fox THAT! ALWays | ARE THAT WE BREED HERE. ad +a Necks?” Huntsman. “‘ H'’u—vyes, Str, VERY Fine Fox. But, ‘scusz ms, Sin, DO YOU ALWAYS BREED ‘EM WITH STRINGS ROUND THEIR

SPORTIVE SON GS. An Old Stager once more takes his part in Life’s Pantomime. Once in our Christmas pantomime, Years ago when our hearts were y . ‘madcap And our mirth was ringing rhyme, And thistledown jests to with the wind we ~y, I was the lown, a boisterous wag, a along on the ine, With perilous leap and noisy broad-gauge And you were the dainty Columbine ! Then in a bygone pate, Less of the rattle and less of the noise, We ’d been drilled a little b He ’d transformed us alll Father Time— from girls and ys I was the Harlequin tender and true, Very conceited those =. In the Pas de deur that I of mine ced with you, How happy was I with my Columbine | Now is another pantomime And still there are for us to play. While the bells around as merrily chime, “To-morrow is Christmas Boxing Day.” “What is my part?” I hopefully croon. 7 Something of course in the good old |, ne. Old! Ah!thattwinge! I'll be Pantaloon, But you shal! be still my Columbine!

Goop Otp Curistmas GAME REVIVED with Great Svcemss BY ALL IN THE Far East.—Snap-~drag THE Powsrs on.

THE MAD MULLAH INTERVIEWED. Ovr special correspondent succeeded in obtaining an interview with the Mad Mul- lah recently, and sends us the following : — Chakdara, Monday. I found the Mad Mullah seated on an inverted egg-chest, pensively chewing a straw. He nodded as I entered his tent and said, “Be seated. There’s plenty of

room on the floor.” Then, after a pause he added, “ Bismillah! Allah is great an Mahomet is his prophet.” I replied, “ Yes, so they say. What do you think of affairs in the Swat valley?” “Oh! I shall go out of the Mad Mullah business,” he answered, rather despairingly. “Nothing to be made in it nowadays. Think of turning it into a limited com-

pany. Could you give me an introduction | to Hooter, or Rucker, or any of those | chaps? You see, if the public would intro- duce some capital, I feel sure that there | would be some or I mean—at all events for us, if not for the common or | rden investor! But at present, the out- ook’s discouraging. Flight is my strong card, just now. Of course, I’m worth a good it to English editors hard up for copy. Always good for an eight-line par, light of t ad Mullah,’ or ‘ Another Outbreak by the Mad Mullah’; but mostly they ’re ‘flights’ now. Game’s getting a bit played out though, and if Hoorgy or the other fellow will take me up, I’ll cer- tainly sell out of the business at once. But I must have cash down. Cent. Cum No Five per

ulative Prefs. in part payment for me!” A BALLADE OF CHRISTMAS SHOPPING. Tue joy of Christmas eorgin ! Now The world goes daily forth, Fase, With busy steps and serious brow, To shop from early morn to tea. People, as swift the hours flee, From shop to shop untiring wend, I too must buy—some two or three— The presents which I have to send. And, since to Custom I must bow, I storm the Stores with chastened glee— But let me, oh, my friends, avow One proposition frank and free! Old Masters, jewels, lands in fee Which might to you themselves com- mend, (For reasons of mere £ s, d.) Are presents which I do not send! Dick, now eighteen, do I endow With meerschaum fine (his weird he'll dree !) ; Books, toys, and so on—and somehow My Christmas shopping ’s done, D. G. One gift on which I glad would be— How glad !—“ my little all ” to spend, Remains, alas! by Fate’s decree, A present which I shall not send. Envoi. Princess, accept unsent me, Who only am your humble friend, All that I fain would send to thee, The present whieh I may not send!

Tas Mam ov ros Mi11.—A lady boxer.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON [December 24, 1898. THE RIVAL ROMEOS —— — AND THE OFTEN-DESERTED JULIET. The Old Party will probably not be in too great a hurry to make her Choice. OXFORD, 2000 A.D. [“ The Midland University, which is being formed at Birmingham, will, in one respect, be quite unique amongst the Universities of Great Britain, for it has been decided to establish in connection with it a school of brewing. There will be a chair of brewing, and the training will be of the fullest. . . . A special brewing laboratory will be established contiguous to the University buildings.” — Westminster Gazette. | On reading the above, Mr. Punch was seriously perturbe 1. What about Oxford and Cambridge? How would they stand such competition? Would they be cut out of the field by their up-to-date rival? Obviously there was but one way to answer these questions, and accordingly Mr. Punch’s Special Prophetic Interviewer was déspatched to the Isis. At the first glimpse it was obvious that, whatever else had happened, Oxford was not deserted. Great changes had, how ever, been effected. The spires and towers had all disappeared and in their place rose a forest of tall chimneys. The SP. I made his way to Christ Church, which indeed he had some diffi- culty in recognising. Tom Quad and the Cathedral had been pulled down to make room for a huge red-brick building, whence issued a continuous stream of brewers’ drays driven by under- gradg in cap and gown. The S. P.I. entered. A large audience were listening to Dr. Vartz, the Dean, who was lecturing on the Chemistry of Bitters, samples of which were handed round the class at frequent intervals. It a red to be a very popular lecture. At its conclusion the S. P. I. presented himself to the Dean, who kindly volunteered as cicerone. “Great changes?” remarked the Dean. are. Why, in your time, there wasn’t even a chair of Brewing. This is the Bottling Department. Most of the undergraduates here are Freshmen. That man in the scholar’s gown? He is “No doubt there | i one of our most promising students, and has already taken the Hertford and Ireland. No,” added the Dean, smiling indulgently at the S. P. I.’s ignorance, “ these are no longer classical scho- larships. They are given for Malting and Brewing.” “Then is beer the only profession now taught in Oxford?” “By no means. In Balliol they make whisky, in All Soles, boots and shoes, and so forth. But here we don’t do much but brewing. Christ Church is still the aristocratic college, you know. Even in your time brewers were a majority of the House of Lords—not a majority? Well, a big percentage, at all events.” “ And classics ? ” The Dean laughed. “Of course, the old régime died hard. Balliol was the Pioneer of the new Oxford Movement, and when she first put up her whisky laboratory, Convocation and Congre- gation protested to a curate. But the change had to come. Bir- mingkam was beating us everywhere. The aristocracy were all going there, and Birmingham Bachelors of Brewing and Doctors ~ Distilling were getting every post in the country worth ving.” “ And what about the women ?” “Of course, the New Movement affected them too. Somer- ville is now a steam-laindry with a mangling laboratory, and Lady Margaret’s is a school of cookery where they read for degrees in the domestic arts. But I must be off,” cried the Dean, “to visit the fermenting bins, or the Freshmen will be | oe themselves with the carbonic acid. Before you leave xford, you should run round and see the improvements at the Ashmolean. It used to be a library, usedn’t it? Now it’s the University Co-operative Stores, where undergraduates do their practical work for the shopwalkers’ degree.” Se the S. P. I. returned to town, satisfied that Oxford will hold her own with her pushful younger sister.

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Decemprr 24, 1898.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL RATHER DISCONCERTING. ‘ [Prince GzonGe of Greeve is to be welcomed, on is arrival iu Crete, by the bands of the four Wieat | Powers, playing thew natiwval authems simul- taneously. } The new Governor-General soliloquises, aside : WELL, this takes some beating, Wuen four rival bands, By way of a greeting, Strixe up a Dutch concert the moment one lands | With wind and percussion Each patriot blares Together the Russian, French, British, ltalian national airs. This quadruple medley Just gives me the hump And a longing that’s y To put the pertormers straight under the pump! Or, if that ’s improper, i’d bribe them a-piece, And chuck them a copper (Or lepton) this mad cuarivari to cease. Thank Heaven, there’s no Teuton With “ Watch un the Rhine,” And the Austrian is mute on His welcoming trumpet—or else I’d resign ! MEMS. BEFORE CHRISTMAS. Yesterday.—Must have a kinsmen party. Must cali all the poor relations together. Must do up the house with holly and musiletoe. Must have any number of crackers. Must keep up the festival with the customary cheery goodwill. Must eat beef, plum-pudding and mince-pies. Must for once in a way dety the doctor, and run the risk of gout. Must take CHaRLes DickENs seriously anent the Yule-tide sea- son. Must meet all sorts and conditions of men. And, finally, must end in a first- class family row. T'o-day.—}gnore the past. Ignore the family. Get away from friends and ac- quaintances. Shut up the town house, and leave it in the hands of a caretaker. And finally, go quietly to some out-of-commis- sion watering-place, and end the Christmas season by dining seul in the coffee-room of an all but deserted hotel. TO MY FRIENDS. (A Fractical View.) Dear friends, I am deeply affected (As the door-bell incessantly rings) By your gifts, always quite unexpected, Each Christmas invariably brings. Cheap port, vile champagne by the dozens, Pots, inkstands, plaiiaed cigars (Come from brothers, and neighbours, and cousins), And mincemeat in family jars. With cheeses, hares, turkeys and pheasants, I’m superabundantly stored. Alas! but such valuable presents I fear you can searcely afford. Then, to bibulous carmen who leave them With “ Happy New Year” on their lips, Unfortunate f who receive them Have to give a small fortune in tips. So do you not think it were better, Instead of extravagant trash, To send me, by registered letter, Effie. “ Wat” Master Tom. “ Wisn I covup caton A CoLD JUST BEFORE CHRISTMAS,” Master Tom. ‘* Weir, Ma’s auways sayin’, ‘Freep a Cotp.’ Wovutpy’r 1? Jusr/” Literary Query.—Chips and Chops, by R. Neisu. Where did the author find his title? On a bill of fare? Or did he ever come across the lines following : PipPLepewiPs, She lived on chips; PorPLeEDEWOPS, He lived on chops ; Said PireLepewips To PorpPLEpEWwors, | “T’ll give you my chips If you'll give me your chops.” New this is a very ancient nursery rhyme, not, as we believe, to be found in any book of small folk lore, but handed down from the nursery upstairs to the dining-room below by oral tradition. Chips and Chops ought to be a very Neish book for home consumption. Mr. Poncn’s Orricrat Notice to Hor- paYy-Maxkers.— Orange-peel at Christmas time should be in puddings, not on pave- ments. Mrs. Jibbins (after gazing on a globe in a shop-window). Well, nothing won't per- suade me but what the world’s flat. Mrs. Trimmins. Well, Mantar, if the world’s flat, ’ow can you account for ’Aver- But one-third of their value in cash? stock Hill ? COLUMBUS. [‘‘ The ashes of Co.ums#us are coming home, but to what sort of reception? At Granada, yesterday, a crowd of women pelted his statue with stones, on the ground that, if he had not discovered America, Spain would have escaped ber worst misfortune.”’ Daily News.| Wao found America? (A brat In Standard 1. would think you flat To ask a question such as that !) CoLumMaus. Whom therefore have we now to thank For this ill weed, most coarse, most rank, The hateful, democratic Yank ? CoLumMsBvs. Whom shal! we Spaniards henceforth know As conquered Spain’s most fatal foe, The primal source of all her woe? CoLumsvs. Whose erstwhile all-but-worshi bones Shall lie unhonoured, whilst old crones Shall pelt his effigy with stones ? CoLumsvs. Whose name shall be a foul black blot Upon this fair creation ?—What ? Well, no, I rather think it’s not CoLumsvs.

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300 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL [Decemper 24, 18{8, ae — || Vee a RA de =a BOXING DAY IN ye ot pAsek aWallis ¥ OS 9 ¢ THE COUNTRY. Gwen, ‘Ou, ALGY, THIS HORRID MAN WON'T LET US PASS UNLESS WE GIVE HIM SOME Money! You ‘Lt MAks HIM, Won't yout” THE BLUE MEDITERRANEAN. (Extracts from the Travel Diary of Toby, M.P.;| Second. ) P. & 0. Mail Steamer “ Peninsular. Off St. Vincent. Thursday.—Our Captain is a wonderful man. He can not only sail | a ship, but can tell to sixty seconds when | she will begin to roll. Weer is his name, England is his nation, St. Albans is his country home, To see it his salvation. That doesn’t happen often in the year, a circumstance that gives him fuller) opportunity of studying the phenomenon alluded to. Sitting down to dinner at 7 o’clock just | as we were rounding Cape St. Vincent, the | ship that had borne herself so serenely through the fabled turmoil of the Bay of Biscay suddenly began to roll in a fashion that impartially distributed the soup. Noted on entering saloon that the fiddles were on the table. (The gentlemen of England who live at home at ease, and never dine to the accompaniment of the fiddle, must understand that nothing musical is meant. The framework tempo- rarily attached to the saloon dining-tables in order to keep dishes, glasses and bottles from flying about is called the fiddle, be- cause it in no way resembles a violin.) Appearance ominous, but the state of the weather on deck did not justify apprehen- sion. In a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, the soup just served was flying about the cabin like an April shower, only more unctious. “ Ah!” said the Captain, as if that were nothing, “in half an hour we’ll have an- other round.” The ship settling down as suddenly as she ’d erupted, the dinner went merrily on till, just as the game was being served, a similar earthquake swoo down on the cabin. The birds, after their kind, adroitly seized the opportunity to take to them- selves wings and fly away into convenient bosoms and laps. With one consent we took out our watches, and found it was twenty-four minutes to eight. “Um!” said the Captain, gloomily, “I’m a minute out. It was just five minutes past seven when | spoke.” The warning was accurate enough for these seated ut the Captain’s tabie. A little hard upon passengers at others. It observation bas reduced the matter to a precise science, why not utilise tne menu tor giving timely notice? in rounding Cape St. Vincent, the ship’s course is twice changed, momentarily creating ructions. Why should not the menu run thus : — Potage a ia Reine. Ructions a la Neptune. The rest of the menu is calculated to take bait an hour, Then— Lindon réti. Bouleversement génvral a la Diable. TO PHYLLIS. (With Christmas Greeting.) Aug, Puyuuis! let the cynic sneer, And vent his spleen and humour bitter, In scorn of joyful Christmas cheer, Cailing its pleasures empty glitter ; Such churlish thoughts though his may be, It is not so with you and me. You have no thought of coming pain To darken your delights with suduess, Your carol is a joyous strain, Your life is but one hymn of gladness ; I catch a ray of gladness, too, My Puy.uis, when | think of you. Nay, there is joy at Christmas still, And youth and purity can buy it, Although the worid be harsh and cuill ; Yes, you at least will not deny it, Pry us, for—sober truth to say— You were not born last Christmas Day. SOME CHRISTMAS PRESENTS. Or Consolation Prizes, as the case may be, For Sir William Harcourt—the head of the editor of the Daily Mail on a charger. For the German Emperor—an invitation to dine with the New Vagabonds, For President Kruger—an invitation to stop away. For M. Delcassé—a packet of safety pins. For Sir E. Monson—a packet of soft soap. For Mrs, Druce—a subscriber or two for her “ Portland Bonds.” For the above subscriber or two—free lodgings, board and attendance sine die in Hanwell, that is, if they ever expect to see a termination of the case. For the Sirdar—the opportunity to give Major Marchand the opportunity to sub- scribe to the Gordon College at oum., For Major Marchand—the opportunity to accept this opportunity. For the Emperor of China—a — for a perambulator-ride outside the P of Peking. For the Dowager-Empress of China—a back seat on a bicycle built for two. For the Tsar—the abolition of Russian conscripts, by way of postscript to his own Rescript. P For Col. Picquart, Capt. Dreyfus, and M. Zola—a return to the bosoms of their ——ee families, and a safe-conduct out of Paris to some place, under the rule of the Préfet of the Sane, where there is no “ conspuing.” For Mr. Rudyard Kipling—a week’s re- spite from the paragraphist. For the newspaper-reader—a week's respite from Mr. Rudyard Kipling. or the Liberal Party—a Leader. For the Leader—A Liberal Party.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL. — DEcEMBER 24, Imported Original Cases of HEERING’S CHERRY BRANDY, staining 1 doz. Bottles, or 2 doz. Half- Bottles, make W03T ACCEPTABLE CHRISTMAS PRESENTS, nd may be had of all Wine Merchants. From All Wine Merchants. BEKMANN'S (Sf. PETERSBURG) DRY AND RICH KUMMEL OF THE TZARS A DELICIOUS LIQUEUR AND A SPLENDID DIGESTIVE. —— # ample: free from the Sole Agents— . BECKMANN & Co., 47, Mark Lane, LONDON. “COOPER” CYCLES. m £5 0s. Competition De fied Latest Desi; ‘rame, Large W eld- less Steel Tubes, Ball | Bearings, Wheels, \ Mud-guards, Cushion ) Tyres, 25 10s., Pneu- } matic, £7 10s. Ladies’, with Dress and Gear - 2. (iuards, from £8. 12 Months Warranty. Lists Free. Acenrs Wawren. Wx. COC OP 'E R, 783, Ola Kent Road, London, 8. 8.B. EVERY HOME is beautified by PHOTOGRAPHS ano PHOTOCRAVURES CELEBRATED PICTURES. Illustrated 1 a Catalogue BERLIN PHOTOCO., ‘ONNEFORD'S” § MAGNESIA. CIDITY of rae STOMACH, HEARTBURN, "HE ADAC HE, GOUT, and INDIGESTION. Sold throughout the World. BLISS’s CELEBRATED CHIPPING NORTOX lets F HIERATICA rr Paver, 5 Quires, ls. Court Envelopes, 1s. per 100. Thin, for Foreign ence, 5 Quires, ls. Mourning Note, 5 Juires, ls. 6d. Mourning ae ls. 6d. per ae Of ali Stationers, or send stamps to Hieratica W orks, 68, Upper Thames Street, London. ()y> Janet ic sn TOBACCO BILLIARD CUSHIONS Still unequalled for accuracy, | ‘ GUARANTEED PERFECT speed and durability. Hand Forged. am ty Hollow Ground. , Carefully Set. | “ Perfect" Low Cushions as fitted to Tables at Buckingham Guaranteed Pe See * on Shank. , Ge; 4. Send for Pree List of Cases. "rom all Dealers, or write direct to Makers, T. TURNER @ CO., SUFFOLK WORKS, SHEFFIELD, who will supply through nearest agent Ask for “ * KEncore"’ Pocket and Table ¢ "utlery. SORE THROAT * You cannot do better than gargle with *Condy.’”—Sir Moretti Mackenzir, M.D., Physician to the late Emperor of Germany. Insist on buying CONDY’S Remedial FLUID The the “ Thurston” Palace, Windsor Castle and Osborne, can be attached to any Billiard Table at a cost of 12 Guineas. THURSTON & CO., Lro., (The Parent Ilouse of the Trade.) |16, CATHERINE STREET, STRAND, W.C, Sole Makers to Her Majesty. By Appointment to H.R.H. the Prince of Wales. A NEW WRITING CABINET. Stone's “Bureau” . Cabinets. No. gat, as illustration, | Bize oy % 318 x 4 Order through ny Sesuttune aler, Stationer, or direct H. STONE & SON, BANBURY. Write for Catalogue of Novel & Useful Presents, “REVER SAY Bit Wmis6 PHERES ARI? PaAYERsS maey Cut (me Pre eoescr: 1898. rants, thro’ . LIQUEURS OF THE + * derful propertics of ng - tion ahd preventing Dyspe can now be had of all the princi pa and Spirit Merchanta, elsand Restau- the scr tf Sole Const W. DOYLE, &, Crutehed Friars, London, “It is peculiarly well adapted for medicinal purposes.” —Lawcer, @ March, lave. KINAHAN’S LL AND GLENISLE The Cream of Old Irish Whiskies. soonest vue Sold. WHISKIES. GUILDFORD STREET, YORK ROAD, LAMBETH, &.E ¢ ° >) aw i | a For elegance and exquisite flavour these Chocolates equal the finest French makes, O “ EMPEROR” CHOCOLATES. A perfect blend of the rarest (‘ocoa and the most delicate Vanilla. Of high-class Confectioners through- out the Kingdom, CHARMING GIFTS POR CYCLISTS, TOURISTS, LADIES, SPORTSMEN, AND ALL MOLIDAY MAKERS, KODAKS Kodak Photography is the best hobby in the world. it is mastered in a few minutes by anyone. No Dark Room Worry, Films Changed in Daylight. KODAKS FROM £1. 1s. to £7. 7s. EASTMAN firctograpiie sca. 43, Clerkenwell Road, London, #.C, Reta’ branches—-6o, Cheapside, B.C. 115-117, Oxtord Street, W. 171-173, Regent Street, W. eae

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\ \ j \ B \\l ul “Sinn i Pat il ™ A A av | t x