Punch 1899-01-18: Vol 116

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—— — PUNCH, January 18, 1899.] OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 25 ll anode ™~ it, nd wn ur rit to ull ‘his the ane, 5 to rary arge NEST 10 is new) that But Civil nt of It lame he L. third from plan ! I, and & latter sometimes obscured the former. Institution, | AN ASTRONOMICAL REPROBATE. [** The star Algol behaved in a most ill-bred manner. He would advance, wink, and then retire. years his motion and behaviour puzzled astronomers, until at last the mystery was solved by Professor OGEL, who showed that Algol had associated with him a dark star, which was invisible, and that the Algol and his invisible playmate revolved round each other, and this accounted for the fact that Algol seemed to us to wink.”’—Sir Rodert Ball’s Lecture at the Royal For A BACHELOR UNCLE’S DIARY. Ill. At the Pantomime (continued).—At theatre door, boys awaiting me; also irate driver, pointing to broken window of cab. Usual thing. Boys been scuffling, and Tommy pushed Boors’ head through window. Cabby glares at me. Why me? Sigh, pay, pass in. Directly we enter box, rush ensues for seat nearest stage. Max obtains it. Dislodge him in favour of eldest girl. Max disgusted, and says, ‘Girls, girls, girls! it's always the girls, in this world!” Sigh, and think how true. “ Blow girls, they ‘re 1 rotters!”” “ Rotters” most objection- able expression. So coarse. Curtain rises, “‘ Home of Demon Dough- nut;” dark stage; gnomes; _ goblins. Maisiz, alarmed, retires to back of box. “Silly owl!” from Tommy. Fairy glen— |More cheerful. Matste returns. So glad. ooTts gloomy. Alleged comic scene. |“ Wayo Bgano,” importation from music |halls, sings risqué song. ‘‘ Charming Sis- | ters SCREECHAR”’ (vide playbill) baw] senti- mental and idiotic ditties. Children awfully bored. Kitchen scene. Comic cat whacks ‘** heavy father”’ over head with rolling-pin. Huge delight of juveniles. Any form i. man suffering certain draw. calm. Trust not effects toffee? On thorns till I see chilly smile on the freckled face. |Grand procession, indicative of historical period. it, STINKER ? trying to make a feller learn his dates, and I sha’n’t look,” from Max, in- dignantly. ‘‘ When’s the clown coming ?” he asks. ‘‘Soon, I answer, diplomati- cally. ‘*Can’t we have something to eat and drink?” inquires Tommy. Order ices, lemonade, sponge-cakes, &c. MaltsIE de- lighted with Neapolitan ice, and eats it rapturously. Ice very hard. MatstE digs spoon in and——! How shall I describe my anguish? Ice flies off plate and falls on lady in stalls! Lean back, feebly hoping victim may not have seen which box re- | Explain pure accident. sponsible. In vain; tremendous guffaw from Tommy, and Max’s loud “ Crikey!” betray us. Five horrible minutes elapse, and then loud knock at door. Elderly mili- tary personage enters. Children all stare. E. M. P. wants to know what I mean by “this outrage.” Try soothing system. ** Accidents will ~ “Bom, mrt” So rude. ‘ Don't trifle, happen in best reg—— replies E. M. P. Sir!” Not trifling; never trifle. Explain this. E. M. P. still rude. Demands my card, and mutters something about five pounds damage and County Court. Give card. E. M. P. leaves, scowling. Why scowl? Objectionable creature. Clown at last. Side-splitting jest, ‘‘Here we are again’’; also, “‘ How are you to-morrow ? ” ** That’s a chestnut!’ from Tommy. Great discernment this. After about four hours’ ceaseless tum-tum- ming of orchestra, and imbecilities of clown and pantaloon, suggest move for train. Negatived in chorus. So sad. “ But the train?’’ ‘Oh, blow the train, let’s see it out.”” See it out. Boots now weeping silently. ‘‘Never mind him, Uncle CHar- LEY. He’s always like that when he’s en- joying himself !”’ says Tommy. Curtain at last. Delay in getting out. Wait for cab. Cram whole party into one, this time. Terrified we shall miss train. Consult watch all way to station. Arrive. |** Burberry train, Sir? Gone, Sir; jest Boots weirdly | ‘*That’s powder in the jam, ain’t | gone. Next train, Sir? Well, there ain’t one to-night, not direct, but if you wait a nour and a ’arf for the Foxley slow, and change at Westby, and change agen at Silton, you'll get to Burberry a little before midnight, Sir.” A Professional Compliment. Burglar (on reading that Sir Henry Haw- kins had been made a Peer). Hooray! ’E’s been put away for the rest of his days. SEATS OF THE MIGHTY.—VI. A Drawinec-’0Oom CHAIR. A simple, old-fashioned, wooden Dutch chair, after designs by the Colonial Secretary. Much stained by coffee and tobacco. A heavy, immov- able piece, strengthened at one time by German supports, now withdrawn. Sustained damage (moral) in 1895, for which no compensation was paid. (From the collection of Dr. Leyds.) VOL. cxyi. D

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [January 18, 1899. UP, OR DIE, —— AND DON’T GET LOCKED OUT, OR LAID FOR THE REST OF OUR LIVES!!!” : = — —_ = = - = OWN A WEEK = AND ME BEGIN PUTTIN’ BY IMMEDIATE, TER OF ’ARF-A-CR A DAZZLING FUTURE. First Young Workman. ‘‘ Look ’ERE, BILL, AS FAR AS I CAN SIZE IT UP, IF YOU 3 ! E WE’RE SIXTY-FIVE WE SHALL COME INTO A MA % ANYTHING O z= | i aie’ m AS \ N ‘ t j OF THAT! BY THE TI E’R Second Young Workman. ‘‘ Ou, Lor’ !” | ooey

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AU MARR, Second Young Workman. January 18, 1899.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON !CHARIVARI. bo ~] ETIAM IN ARCADIA EGO. I HAVE listened to the prattle Of a sweetly purling brook, Where the hurdle or the wattle Gave the thing a rustic look. I have tasted joys Elysian, But I freely here confess, I prefer a bois Parisian o a sylvan wilderness. I have risen with the singing Of the old proverbial lark, And have heard the bells a-ringing In the churchyard and the dark. I have squeezed her hand and snored me In the old ancestral pew— But the idyll always bored me, And I longed for something new. No—let poets love to dally Where the sun with tender ray Gilds the dear old-fashioned alley In the old poetic way. But Arcadia in December Or in May is sorrow’s crown, Since in boredom I remember The delights of life in town. PROBABLE CHANGE OF Name.—A capital mirth-provoking entertainment is just now being given at St. George’s Hall by the united forces of the mysterious Masked Minstrels, Miss Lottie VENNE and Mr. Brannon Tuomas in My Milliner’s Bill, and Mr. GEorGE GrossMITH in one of the very best musical skgtches he has ever done, a . . . . . which is saying (singing and playing) a good deal. If this ‘‘ Show” is to be permanent (and why not? seeing that it attracts all those who patronise the theatre and those who don’t), then the proposal may be made to drop the “ Saint’ not the ‘‘ Grossmith ”’ and call it simply George’s Hall, even though the entertainment is not h’all George's. SOLILOQUY. “T should like that engine. Can't afford it myself. They won’t buy it for me at home—too soon after Christmas. Must go in and ask the Girl to put it aside for me till next time I have the | Croup or something ; then Mother I] buy it me!”’ | N\\ WY ne Mat i THE DUMAS CRAZE. “LET ’EM ALL COME.” Brown (who, with his friends Jones and Robinson, is in town for a week and is ‘‘ going it’’). ‘‘Now, Mr. CosTUMIER, WE ARE GOING TO THIS "ERE BALL, AND WE WANT YOU TO MAKE US ” HUP AS THE THREE MUSKETEERS! A “SCHOOL” TREAT ONCE more we go to School at the Globe Theatre! Once more we welcome Mr. JoHn Hare, as admirable as ever in his original art of Beau Farintosh, a character that ROBERTSON created out of materials provided |by TuHackEeRay’s Major Pendennis and Dickens's Cousin Feenix. That the play |comes as a novelty to those who have the advantage (in one way) over their seniors, is roved by the interest it excites, and by the 1earty appreciation with which it is received. Miss Manet Terry-Lewis plays charmingly as Bella, and Miss May Harvey is capital as Naomi Tighe. Mr. Grtpert Hare fits himself down to the ground with the part of Kruz, and Miss Fanny CoLeman could not be bettered as Mrs. = Mr. Frep Kerr is excellent as Jack Poyntz. Miss Fanny CoLeMAN, Miss Mase Terry-Lewis (anything but a Miss ‘* M. T.”’ Lewis, as she is full of brains), and Miss May Harvey, take, and divide, the home-made cake in equal portions. Lord Atur Temportis Acti says ‘“‘ there ’s no falling-off in the original Hare.’ This Hare has lasted out many a long run; has shc w. us all first-rate sport; and even now Old Time’s harriers haven't got within measurable distance of him, for he is going as strong as ever. And so, like ‘“ Beauty,” this play draws us with a single Harr,—or rather, would do so, only there are two Hares, which fact strengthens the traction power. Prosit! WIsHING THEM A Happy Return.—From the Daily News we learn that “ Sir Benjamin BakER and Mr. Joun Arrp have left London for Egypt”’ to look after the new Nile | water-works. ‘‘ Bon voyage!” et “ Auz | Reservoirs !”’

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL. [January 18, 1899 » . -- ~ = = "el = | f - g 2 Y AT A CHECK. First-flight Man (to “‘’Arry,” who has been riding in his pocket). YOU KINDLY NOT RIDE SO NEAR MY Horsek’s TAIL?” "Arry (innocent). ** Wuy, Str? Dogs HE KICK?” OUR MERCANTILE MARINE. (Duologue suggested by the recent correspon- dence in the ‘* Morning Post.’’) Examiner of the Future. So it is your desire to command a merchant ship under the British flag ? Candidate. That is certainly my ambition. | Examiner. I may take it that you hold the necessary certificates ? Candidate. You may. I am perfectly | qualified for the appointment. Examiner. You are proficient in naviga- tion and the other necessary knowledge ? Candidate. I would not have presumed to have presented myself before you had not such been the case. Examiner. I am pleased to find that, so far as preliminaries are concerned, your answers are entirely satisfactory. Still, | there is another matter upon which I must have the most explicit information. Can you speak French ? Candidate. Well, no, I cannot; but that does not matter. Examiner. Pardon me, I am the judge. Can you converse in Italian ? Candidate. Italian! No, certainly not! Examiner. Dear me! I am sorry to hear that! But at any rate you can make your- self understood in Swedish ? Candidate. Swedish! Don’t know a couple of words of that lingo. Examiner. Well, you have surely been grounded in Dutch ? | Candidate. No. I have never learned | Dutch—neither single or double. Examiner. Well, at any rate you speak German ? Candidate. No, nor Spanish, nor Portu- guese, nor Russian. Examiner. Well, my good Sir, what language do you speak ? Candidate. Why the language of NELson and Drake and F’ropisHER. Surely that is good enough ? Examiner. I am afraid not. You see, you | would, with your imperfect acquaintance of foreign languages, never be understood. Candidate. Why is not English enough for a sailor on board a British ship ? Examiner. How could it be when all your | men would be foreigners ? Candidate. Then it has come to this: that I am unsuitable because I only speak English ? Examiner. Quite so, because all the men under your command would belong to other “My coop MAN, WILL | nationalities. Next please. (Curtain.) A DROP FOR PICQUART. O Justice! Omy Country! Have mine ears Heard rightly? Have mine eyes beheld the truth ? And did my colleague—colleague mine no more Cry openly, in face of all the Court, ‘* Hot grog for Preguart ” ?—Anything but grog I could hove pardoned, but not that—— No! No! It was too brazen, it too much betrayed The bias of the Bench ; for who shall judge The man for whom he once hath ordered grog, Mingling the fresh aroma of the lemon With fragrant fumes of spirit that will steal Subtly upon the vexéd brain, and spread A blesséd and ineffable content O’er all the soul? And this they gave to Prcquart, This more than nectar to this less than man! O shame! Had BeEavuREparReE prepared the draught He would have suffered but one single drop, One small yet most effective six-foot drop, That would have quenched the villain’s thirst, and saved The honour of the army and of France. HER MAJESTY’S ‘ MUSKETEERS.” Wuat a delightful D’Artagnan is Mr. Tree! Hardly ever has | this versatile comedian had a character which so thoroughly suited him, or, more correctly speaking, to which he so thoroughly suited himself. There is fun in it, there is humour in it, there is devil- ment in it, there is sentiment in it. To carry this character through is a triumph for the actor. Admirably does Mr. McLeay play the wily Cardinal Richelieu, an historical personage most useful to novelists and to dramatists before Mr. GRUNDY. Anne de Breuil is an eye-making, coaxing, fascinating, vilely wicked heroine, without a redeeming point, except that she is layed in a Sara Bernhardty sort of way by Mrs. Brown Porter. Mrs. TREE is a charming “ poor dear” of a Queen, whose crown is a burden to her, until it incontinently falls off as she bows her head in an agony of tears, and wins the sympathy of her audience. The Royal sufferings should have been relieved by a skirt-dance erformed by Constance, the Queen’s confidante, prettily played by Miss MaBet Love, who, however, without a dance, is very nice In her scenes with Mr. Tree and with Mr. ALLAN, representing her stout parent. And the Three Musketeers themselves, what of them? They |

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0 rt ou 1¢ce for our pak en her has ited ited vil- ugh the 1 to ilely e 18 own , her nce. ance d by ee in r her [hey ‘ *a is —_——————— January 18, 1899.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 29 } ‘ are Mr. FRANK Miuts, Mr. Lovts|Catvert, and Mr. GERALD DU Maurier, “all exceeding good”; but of this‘trio, Mr. Frank | Miuxs, as Vicomte de la Feére, husband of the detestable Anne de | | drawn from the free air in which he has lived a contempt for out- | worn formulas, and a simplicity of thought and manner strangely Breuil, acquits himself with impressive dignity. __ ‘ a The piece is picturesquely placed on the stage’; and every detail | is well considered ; and the ensemble contributes to the, TREE-men- dous success which it has achieved, and which for some time yet to come it is likely to enjoy. LETTERS TO THE CELEBRATED. To Wiriu1am McKINtey, PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. | My pear S1r,—I approach you not with the conventional, if| affected, humility which is expected of those who are privileged to | address the crowned big wigs of Europe, but with all the natural frankness, cordiality, and ease that f can command, for I know that, like the great majority of public men in America, you are no pompous, inflated humbug, but a straightforward, honest, and sincere man, one who, whatever else may be said of him, has at variance with the solemn posturings of ancient Courts. You, Sir, occupy the highest and the noblest position that is open toany man. By the votes of your countrymen, freely given, you have been raised to the head of the Government of seventy- five millions of free people. You have not gained a brief spell of uneasy power by bloodshed and massacre organised for your own advancement, nor are you President because your ancestors were rich or great, or eminent for successful knavery. By your own native grit you have made your way, until at last the mass of your | | fellow-citizens gave you their confidence and elected you their | executive chief. But great as your responsibilities would necessarily be in any case, they have been made greater by the circumstances of the time. Those who in England have loved and admired the American people (and I may be permitted to declare myself one of | them), who have gloried in the record of their early struggle for | | freedom, though it was wrung from the obstinacy and misfortune | of England herself, who followed with sympathetic enthusiasm the | course of their fight against slavery and for the Union, and have | looked to them to carry high through the Centuries the banner of good Government and of civil and religious liberty, those who, even before the present links of affection and esteem were forged to bind the two English-speaking nations together, have held by America and all that the name implied, rejoice, no doubt, in this mutual good will, but are forced to pause orm they commit themselves to a complete sympathy with all that is springing from America’s recent victories. No intelligent man will, I think, deny that the time had come to put an end to Spanish misgovernment in Cuba. On that point we in England were Americans to a man, and while the fight lasted, and other nations looked on with cold indifference or undisguised enmity, we at any rate were with our | kinsfolk heart and soul. But now we hesitate. We remember the declarations solemnly made when the war began, we still hope | it may be possible to fulfil them, but we have to admit, with an experience of similar declarations made by ourselves and others, | tha! the portents give but small warrant for our hope. And here I may acknowledge that it would be a mereimpertinence for me or for any other man to intrude English opinion into a question that exclusively concerns the American people. But I note that there are many sober, earnest, and public-spirited men in America who look with disfavour upon this new-fangled policy of Imperial expansion for the United States. They do not seem to hear as others do the voice of “ manifest destiny ’’ calling upon | America to govern the Philippine Islands, and to subjugate their | native inhabitants; they cannot persuade themselves that it is | necessarily good to be what is called a “ world-power,” and thus to | plunge head-first into the hot bed of international jealousies ; they | refuse to believe that a nation’s stability and power must depend on | | liberty, and because lust for glory and the number of armed men that she can array, or that it is the sign of | an inferior race to concern itself chiefly about its own afiairs. America, they say, is great because her government is based on greed for the land of others ave never been hers. There is a cant of patriotism as offensive as any other cant, and its high priests go about the world swaggering and raving and threatening to cram civilisation into backward Populations at the point of the bayonet. They call upon the world to admire their humanity, and their disinterested love of progress, | while their pockets bulge with concessions and the prospectuses of syndicates formed to secure a high profit for all who have skilfully mixed pelf with patriotic sentiments. From these self-seeking but | ingenious hypocrites, the old world has suffered. Why should merica encourage them to prey upon her vitals ? AT A MATINEE. (AN ENTR’ACTE.) She. ‘* HAMLET IS A PLAY FOR ALL TIME.”: He. *‘Y8s; Iv WILL NEVER GIVE UP THE GuHosT!” For the solution of these problems you must be in a large measure responsible, and your position is one of no common ditii- culty. You have yet to show that you are astrong man, strong, that is, in the sense of impressing your own deeply-felt convictions on your fellow-countrymen, and strong, too, in the ability to set yourself to stem the current of popular opinion when you believe it is running in a wrong direction. Men who have this sort of strength are not less liable naturally to error than others, but experience shows that on the whole they actually err more rarely and with a less disastrous result than those who are content to go through life like jelly-fish, swayed hither and thither by waves and tides. With regard to you, it must be said that on this point we have as yet no guidance, for it does not of course follow that a man is strong because he is honest, skilful, or attractive in manner, or even because he has been able to frame a tariff carefully calculated to support the industries of his own country, while depressing those of rival nations. But whether you are strong or not (and one who realises America’s huge power for good may be permitted to hope that you are), on the decisions that you are about to take depend your country’s future, her place in the world, and at the bar of history. May you decide wisely, as I doubt not you will honestly, so that when the time comes for you to seek that retire- ment in which a former President is but as other men, your countrymen may honour your name and reverence your adminis- tration. I am, Sir, yours with profound respect, THE VAGRANT. THE OLD STYLE AND THE NEW IN JANUARY. (Thanks to the Clerk of the Weather.) Tue Oxtp YEarRs. Tue New YEar. First Customer at Inn (slapping | First Customer (unbuttoning his breast and shoulders). I could | light suit). My cherries and straw- have skated here along the road, | berries are coming on famously. and the snow ’s mountains high | Hens are laying well, and the | on either side of the way ! | sparrows have finished building. Second Customer. That’s so. flew say you, neighbour ? My poor yard-dog was frozen to| Second Customer. Ditto. Peas eath last night in his kennel. I| and beans look promising, and hear that coals are two shillings| the roses are in bud. Two a ton dearer. Two whiskies hot, shandy-gaffs, Miss, with plenty Miss. of ice ! Oor Brrps.—Gold and silver pheasants.

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AMG THE LONDON CHARIVAI [January 18, 1899. tI. QUOD ERAT DEMONSTRANDUM. ‘* Bur Nopopy “OH, BUT THEY Gertrude. Evelyn. EVER Do. DIES oF A Broken Heart.” Wuy, I KNEW A MAN WHO WAS JILTED, AND HE DIED ALMOST IMMEDIATELY (rertrude. ** WELL, 1F HE'D LIVED HE'D HAVE GOT OVER IT.” AFTERWARDs.” MORTE D'HARCOURT. A SEQUEL. [** It is understood that the gathering of Liberal Members which will assemble on the eve of the meeting of Parliament will offer the leadership of the party in the House of Commons to Sir Henry CAMPBEBLL-BANNERMAN ... . The choice is not ideai . . We have to run over the roll-call of past Whig or Liberal leaders . in order to realise that we are dealing with an interregnum in the affairs of the — of progress. The prospect is naturally disturbing to miny ardent souls . . . The day of half-gods is with us: the whole gods arrive.’’— Daily Chronicle, Jan, 12.) THEN, for the heathen waxed exceeding fat, With none to break them, and the wasting t bore Rooted and wallowed in the stricken land; And overseas the insufferable Gaul Mocked ; and the people cried aloud for one, Mad Mullah, or another, who should weld The petty chiefs, and take the chair, and ead, matter Round, Not such as when he proved them ere he Pp assed, Sir Harcourt, but a remnant; all forlorn, As having lost their head, though otherwise Not wholly imbecile—Sir Cop-La-PouLe, Sir Gris, Sir Kay Le Pompous, Jean L’ Honneéte, Beu-cHAMP PORTE-DRAPEAU, with free lance, No whither they the Table Sir that we must wait till | The bold Sir LaBoucHERE DE BooM-LE-VRAI, | And others, maiden knights, of blank device, Nor yet admitted to the Banquet Round, | Save for dessert, on benches by the wall, Swarmed, being whipped thereto; and all the doors, Entrance and fiery egress, bolt and bar, Were triple-guarded and the key-holes bunged, And on the board the ballot-boxes rang. Then JEAN t'HonnéteE—for he, by assent, As one that loved Sir Harcourt passing well, And wrote the letter; ay, and saw him off Weeping, and had, by way of heritage, |That other’s mantle (for the moment pledged In the adjacent cloak-room), being held More blameless than the rest, if that might be Sat in the chair, not the Siege Perilous, But hard thereby,—the doleful Jzan L’ HONNETE | Up from his place, clearing his arduous throat, Got; and upon a silence so profound | That he, Sir LasoucHERE DE BooM-LE-VRAI, |Grim-chuckling in his corner, might have heard A pin-prick out in Madagascar, spake : “Not for your votes I clamour (having scratched), friends, the flower of Britain, fellow- knights full 10 | Dubbed of an Order nobler than the Bath, Whose glory it has been in better day s To have one leader only at a time And worship him with reverence like a god. Such days—for so I read my Chronicle, That fount of final truth—are now more ; The hybrid half-and-half, the demi-god, Is with us; yet my faith is large and fine That in a cycle, sure as old Cathay’s, Repeated history shall bring again The rounded shape, the complete article, Which haply now beneath this roof, incog., Gropes dimly in the embryonic stage. Meanwhile we needs must fill the perilous place Left vacant of his substance who has passed, Yet sits, a shadowy Banquo at the board, Unseen, but felt the more; must choose, | say, Some sub., some temporary warming-pan, Luke-warm, for choice ; and such I have in mind, No genius he of elemental mould, But human in the aptitude to err ; Not perfect, nay, but on the contrary Compound of most forgivable defects And easy virtues; generous to a fault, Even his own, and tempered like a lamb, Though less superbly agile in the field ; Deep learn’d in high explosives, yet withal Dowered with a gift for melting heathen hearts By moral suasion no such an one I know,

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PUNCH, OR THESLONDON CHARIVARI.—Janvary 18, 1899. Cee ee ml Sa SA? | PEE A RA aS ——_ } ‘ =. — = \ | | | MAT | \\ We | Vt! Wy Ne | hh . CSSAWY iad - | 2 ti --N |) / | a Y Ya Ylpy WY | Jal YA 4 y = Yi iy : 7 / Yi TW | Hy > Hh Mh // Ny) Wh yf Hy ig i Hy) Hy) o iy y y WY Way, AY y, od. - no Jes sed, I = — - — . : —S ; we — Se SS > ~ FFWAIN Se e in | ANT CV jp °¢& T YI7 ANOTHER ~~ PIN-PRICK”!! 4 ] Lorp S-.-sp-ry. ‘‘A PROPOS OF MADAGASCAR, MADAME, AND IN VIEW OF THE APPROACHING , ANNIVERSARY OF YOUR PLEDGES, PERMIT ME TO DRAW YOUR ATTENTION TO THE FACT THAT I | AM STILL RESPECTFULLY AWAITING THEIR FULFILMENT!” MapaME La France. ‘‘WHAT! MORE BULLYING!” (Strictly to herself.) “I MUST KEEP UP APPEAR- ANCES!” | '— [“ En attendant, the missio of the new French Ambassador, M. Paut Cason, ‘is likely to lead to a better understanding.’ ”’— Times, Jan. 14.]

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Janvary 18, 1899.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. And, knowing, name Sir PoRTE-DRAPEAU | | Clash ballot- box, flash pen, let the choice fall! taking paper, bane the knighthood, “C ter ‘allot. box, flash pen, let the choice fall!’ 4 * > * * Then from his waistcoat-pocket L’HONNETE | Drawing the ransom-ticket swiftly moved BEL - CHAMP | JEAN | Toward the adjacent cloak-room, paid his | pence, And took the mantle, mystic, ponderous, And slung it on Sir Beu-cHamp Porte- DRAPEAU. And all the Order cried “ A fit! A fit!” | But Jean L’HonneétE, slow-musing, went his ways, And hailed a cab, and clomb therein, and sat. THE TWENTIETH CENTURY. (Being a Page from the Log-book of Zedwhyeks.) Not being satisfied with the very fine | | distinction “drawn in last week’s Truth between the numerical and historical dates | (I always thought the two were identical), and the same writer’s definition of the year 2,000 as belonging to the two thousandth | century (a slip which he has subsequently attributed to the effects of Christmas cheer), I determined to go to the fountain-head for enlightenment upon the subject. | cordingly paid a visit to the Professor of Calculation and Chronology at Colney | Hatch. I found the savant engaged i in argu- ment with an attendant. He broke off, how- ever, at my approach, and, without waiting | to receive my credentials, said to me some- w hat _peremptorily, - Think of a number!” | “Nineteen Hundred,” aloud. I ac-| I replied, thinking Professor De BapsacGe at this pricked up | his ears, and appeared to take a deeper inte rest in my case. “Oh, you too have got it!” he cried. 4 OPTICAL DELUSION | CavsepD BY THE FASHIONABLE BRAIDED | | JackEr AND THE LATEST THING IN MuFFs. She. TRAIN, AND IT TORE RIGHT WASN’T IT SWEET OF HER?” He. ‘‘ WELL, THERE WAS ONLY ACROSS, AND ONE WORD ‘* YES; THAT STUPID > Man WHO CAME WITH THE THE A, Pe te DUCHESS’s A WORD, SMITHS OLD THING THE SAID TROD ON DEAR NEVER SHE COULD HAVE SAID!” “Yes, Master, I want to get an authori- tative opinion “Yes, I know. I am aware that the Astronomer Royal says that the next century will begin on Jan. 1, 1901—the last year of the present century being 1900, and that the present era begins with the year A.D. 1, and the year before is B.c. 1, there being no year 0. This pedantic view is not new to me. It is of course absurd.” ‘* The more correct view, then, is—— ““That of Nature's philosopher, the man in the street, preferably a back street. He knows, as w Ai as you or I do, that there never was a year One. Eighteen hundred and ninety-nine years ago the Sun went round the Earth, so the year wasn’t counted. If it had a date, I should prefer to call it Naughty-naught. Then, later on, when our reckoning was adopted, the wise minds of the dark age started arbitrarily in | such a way as to allow the second century | to begi n on an even number.” Thy was that ? | “‘ Well, I have no positive proof, but you ” can take my word it*was so. You see, it is so much nicer and more sensible to suppose that the year One hundred is in the Second century. (The first century, by the way, can well afford to do without a year or two.) Thus 1=2, and we gain a year all round— you take my point ? “T see, and so 19=20, and——”’ “Quite right! Before we have finished nineteen hundred years, we are already in the twentieth hundred. What could be more previous ? ? That’s what we want, my boy,—push! We're pushing for the new century, and people like ourselves, with our wits about us, will get there first. As for the others,” he continued, his voice rising to a scream, ‘those who will have it that 1900 is the last year of the nineteenth cen- tury—well, they ought to be in a lunatic asylum!” At this point the attendant made a hurried communication to the professor, | and the interview terminated with the pro- nouncement which I am glad to make known to the world that is still at large.

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OR THE LONDON CHARIVART. [January 18, 1899

COLD SYMPATHY. Friend. ‘‘HvuLLo, OLD MAN, WHAT'S THE MATTER ?”’ Gilded Youth. **Just PROPOSED T0 A GIRL—BEEN REFUSED. BRAINS ouT!” Friend, *‘CONGRATULATE You, otp CHap!” Gilded Youth. ‘“‘Wuat po you MEAN?” Friend. ‘‘ Dipyn’r KNOW You HAD ANY!” | tion. THINK I SHALL BLOW my | some books should be cut and others uncut. | TO A NOVELIST OF THE MODERN SCHOOL. [‘* The present pessimistic and hopeless kind of fiction, written by a lot of schoolgirls, who did not know what life was, was not going to last.”— Mr. David Christie Murray at the Article Club.] | Farr novelist, whose youthful pen, Steeped in the dismal style prevailing, To unsophisticated men Life’s dubious mysteries unveiling, With fervid fancy’s seared and scarred, A-throb with pessimistic hurry, The laws alike you disregard Of Davin and of LrypLey Murray. For us, who in the world have spent Some scores of winters—often wasted— While, on life’s pathway as we went, Its pleasant fruits we oft have tasted, | You, preternaturally wise, In saddest, gloomiest effusions, Strip off existence’s disguise— For you at least have no illusions.

| Yet at the worst we fain would hope- Though, judging thus the world unkindly, You drag us with you as you grope Amid its mazes madly, blindly, And teach us everywhere to see Horrors and miseries in plenty— That, gentle maiden, you may be Wiser perhaps when you are twenty.

Cutrtinc Remarks.—Joun MILNE, pub- lisher, advertises an ‘‘ Express Series,” where- of Major ARTHUR GRIFFITHS’ Rome Express is, naturally, the first on the list now before us. | But what is the use of an ‘“‘ Express Series” when the reader, becoming interested, wish- ing to get on at express pace, is stopped by the obstacles of uncut pages at nearly every turn- over ? ‘* Cut the book before you read it,” says Mr. Saprent. In what sort of temper does the exhausted paper-cutter sit down to read? |There may be, and probably there are, |reasons satisfactory to the publishers why | But all novels intended to be rapidly read | should have their pages cut before publica- |

A NICE NIGHT AT SEA. (Extracts from the Travel Diary of Toby, M.P.) A LOVELY day in Marseilles; not a breath of wind stirred the blue water that laved the white cliffs on which Chateau d’If stands. Shall have a lovely pore. Make ourselves comfortable on deck | with cushions and books. Scarcely outside the harbour when a wind sprang up from S.E. dead ahead of us. The sea rose with amazing rapidity ; banks of leaden-hued clouds obscured the sun- light; then the rain swished down; saloon deck cleared ; passen- gers congregated under shelter in the saloon; as the cranky little steamer rolled and pitched, the place emptied. When at 5.30 the dinner-bell rang, only six took their places, and all declined soup. With the darkness the storm rose. If the ship could have mee up its mind either to roll or to pitch, it could have been endured. It had an agonising habit of leaping up with apparent intent to pitch, and, changing its mind, rolling over, groaning in every plank. Every third minute the nose of the ship being under water, and the stern clear out, the screw leaped full half-length in the air, sending forth blood-curdling sounds. Midway came a fearsome crash of crockery, the sound reverberating above the roar of the wind, and the thud of the water falling by tons on the deck, making the ship quiver like a spurred horse. ““I begin to understand now,” said Sark, “ how the walls of Jericho fell.” Much trouble with the Generalissimo. When he came aboard at Marseilles he suffused the ship with pleasing sense of the military supremacy of Great Britain. Has seen more than seventy sum- mers, but still walks with sprightly step and head erect. The long droop of his carefully-curled iron-grey moustache is of itself suffi- | of him prone on the floor, where he had been flung from one of the | of an hour later the ship gave a terrible lurch to leeward ; the | his accent suggested that if not of foreign birth, he had lived | long in continental Courts and camps. Odd to note how, as his cient to excite terror in the bosom of the foe. The Generalissimo has not the word retreat in his vocabulary. He was one of the six who to-night sat at the dinner-table and deftly caught scraps of meat and vegetable as the plates flew pe. But after dinner he collapsed. Thought he had retired to his berth ; towards nine o'clock a faint voice from the far end of the cabin led to discovery benches. We got him up, replaced him tenderly on the bench, making a sort of barricade on the offside with bolsters. A quarter screw hoarsely shrieked ; another batch of crockery crashed down; above the uproar, a faint voice was heard moaning, “ Oh, dear! Oh, dear!” We looked at the bench where we had laid the Generalissimo, his martial cloak around him. Lo! he was not. Guided by former experience, we found him under the table. Evidently no use propping him up. So with the cushions we made a bed on the floor, and the old warrior securely slept, soothed by the swish of the water that crossed and recrossed the cabin floor as the ship rolled to leeward or to starboard. When the Generalissimo came aboard at Marseilles, surveying the fortifications of the harbour as if he intended storming them,

physical depression grew, an Irish accent softened his speech, till at length he murmured of misery in the mellitluous brogue | of County Cork. Pretty to see the steward when the flood in the saloon got half a foot deep ladle it out with a dustpan. Tunis, Monday, 1 a.m.—Just limped in here with deck cargo |

Gh @Qe@e8 <o eee —

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January 18, 1899.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

el ™ itty < SCs gh Aree Pgs A PEEP INTO THE “GREAT PYGMY FOREST.” ‘*THE PYGMYS LIVE IN PERPETUAL DARKNESS. {The death-like stil'ness of the forest was continually broken by reports like thunder as these giant trees fell crashing to the ground. night-time the reports were most startling.’’—Jnterview with Mr. Albert B. Lloyd. == ZA Rs ae rma A ‘ itt & Anan THEY ARE FAIRLY INTELLIGENT.” At The ** Times,” Jan. 9.)

| washed ov erboard, bulwarks stove in, engine broken down, an | awesome list to port, galley so clean swept the cook doesn’t know | it, the cabins flooded, and scarce a whole bit of crockery in the pantry. Twenty-one hours late; not bad on a thirty-six-hours’ | voyage. | Captain comforts us with assurance that having crossed the | Mediterranean man and boy for forty years, he never went | through such a storm. Have been at sea a bit myself; only once, | | coasting in a small steamer off Japan, have I seen—or, since it | was in the main pitch dark, felt—anything like it. Generalissimo | turned up at dinner last night, his moustache a little draggled, but | his port once more martial. His chief lament is, that going down | | to his berth yesterday morning, having spent Friday night in the | security of the saloon floor, he found his boots full of water. This | brings out chorus of heartrending experience. Every cabin | flooded ; boxes and portmanteaus floating about. Sark and [| | Spent a more or less cosy night in the saloon. To us entered | occasionally one of the crew ostentatiously girt with a life-belt. Few incidents so soothing on such anight. Fortunately, we did not hear till entering port how in the terror of the night two conscripts, bound for Bizerta, jumped overboard and were seen no more. “If this is the way they usually get to Tunis,” says Sark, “I hope the French will keep it all to themselves. In this particular | case, there is more in the Markiss’s ‘graceful concession’ than meets the eye.” In Love among the Lions (Dent & Co.), Mr. T. ANSTEY, in his very best style, tells us the story of a commonplace young man placed in a most awkward predicament by the eccentric girl with whom he is desperately in love. “If it’s humour you want,” says the Baron to his friends, quoting, of course, from Mr. RANDON Tuomas in the Pantomime Rehearsal, “just get this | story of Mr. AnsTrEy’s, and you will be kept amused and interested | for a good couple of hours by ‘Shrewsbury clock,’ or any other | umepiece.” Skip the illustrations, and form your own idea as to inten

the individuality of the characters. Of course, the Karon wishes that there were more stories of the same sort in the one volume, but, on reflection, this one is so uncommonly “ hard to beat’’ that Mr. ANsTEY might have failed, as his own rival, had he introduced | two or three others just to make a show. Love among the Lions is well worthy of the author of the inimitable Vice Versd. Mrs. RicomMonp Ritcure’s Biographical edition of her father’s | works, which SmirH, ELDER have planned on a scale of thirteen volumes, reaches the ninth. It comprises the Christmas Books, and in addition to the letterpress contains ninety-seven full-page illustrations, one hundred and twenty-two woodcuts, and a fae- simile letter. (The handwriting, by the way, in its clearness and neatness strangely resembles that of THackERay’s old friend and sometime publisher, the head of the firm now endowing the world with this treasure trove.) The Christmas Books were opportunely issued before the festival. But the work is for all time. Mrs. RitcHIE continues to add to the value of the edition by copious notes and reminiscences of her father, supplemented by letters | from his pen, now for the first time given to the public. The volume contains an exceptional number of the sketches that THACKERAY tossed off even with greater pleasure than he laboured at the folios of Vanity Fair. The collection of Christmas Books includes Mrs. Perkins’s Ball, of which Smrru, ELDER have just | issued a facsimile of the origizial edition, with its quaint coloured plates. Also there is that gem of a Christmas story, The Rose and the Ring. The Green Passion (GREENING), by P. VERT, and this, as far as names go, is quite as it should be, and they are “all in a concate- | nation accordingly.”’ It is a story of an Othello in petticoats whose lunatic jealousy poisons her married life, and makes her manly husband utterly miserable. There it ends. The mechanism of the tale will immediately recall to the memory of any regular reader of novels the original work in which chapters of private conversation with “‘ My Dear Diary’”’ furnished the medium through which the sentiments, feelings, designs, and doings of the Heroine, and also of the other characters, were communicated to the public. THE Baron dE B.-W.

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NCH, OR THE PU} LONDON CHARIVARL [January 18, 1899. *yY “ld EE (fun on left of Line who never to his next neighbour, referring to Sportsman with | “CAN'T MAKE ovUT HOW HARRIS EVER MANAGES TO HIT ANYTHING—HE SQUINTS SO DREADFULLY.” Friend. ‘Ou, HE FIRES BOTH BARRELS AT ONCE; SO THE Binp COMES IN FOR A CROSS FIRE.” a squint, misses), MR. PUNCH’S DRAMATISED I.—THE EGOIST. MEREDITH is preparing a stage version of The Egoist.’’] The progress. NOVELS. [**Mr. ACT I. ScENE ball un sitting out. Lady Busshe. tired ? Clara. A little. Lady B, in that respect. her, of course ? Clara (wearily). I think not. Lady B. You should. She is a liberal education, full of epigram. Such epigram! J never understand a word she says. But who was your partner ? Clara (yawning). [ forget his china, I think. Ah, there he is. (Indicating Sir W1ILLouGHBY PATTERNE, who crosses with Letitia DALE on his arm, Lady B. Sir WiLLouGHBY PATTERNE ? Clara. Willow Pattern. Ofcourse. That is what I was trying to recall him by. I knew it had something to do with china. Lady B. Witty minx. Sir WrLoucHBy is one of our great lights. Mrs. MountTsTUART made one of her most famous sallies about him. She said “* he had a leg.” (Laughs with elaborate enjoyment. Clara (stonily). hasn't he two legs ? Lady B. You don’t understand. It is an epigram. Clara. f thought you said her name was JENKINSON ? Lady B. Movuntstuart JENKINSON. We always MounNTSTUART. Clara (icily). You appear to be very remarkable people. Lady B. Most remarkable, especially Mrs. Mountstvuart. Here she (Enter Mrs. Mountstuart JENKINSON.) Mrs. MountTstvuart, let me introduce Miss CLARA MIDDLETON. Mrs. M. J. Sir Wrttiovenusy’s fascinating partner ? MIDDLE TON, how are you ? GEORGE Drawing-room at Cherriton Grange, where a CiarkA MippLeton and Lapy BussHE are us You are not dancing, Miss Mippieton. You are My partner’s conversation was fatiguing. (sympathetically). Ah, you'll tind us all a little tiring Mrs. Mountstuart JENKINSON, now—you know name. Something to do with the stage Mrs. MountstTvuart said it. her call is. Fair Clara (astonished). MippLeEToN! Mrs. JENKINSON | Mrs. M. J. Lam called Mounrstvuart. Clara. And I am called Miss MIDDLETON. Mrs. M. J. You dainty rogue in porcelain, you ! Clara (aside). Toujours la porcelaine. Willow Pattern again. these people mad or am I? I must ask Papa. [ Mrs. M. J. (passionately). She called me Mrs. JENKINSON! Impertinent chit. But I’ll punish her. She shall marry Sir Witioueusy. That will bre A her spirit. [E zit to sind Sir W. ACT II.—The Drawing-room at Patterne Hall. Ciara and Letitia DALE discovered. Letitia. So you are really engaged to Sir WILLoUGHBY ? Clara (gloomily). Yes. Laetitia. How extraordinary! Do tell me how it happened. Clara. It was Mrs. Mountstuart JENKINSON’s fault. She let off one of her epigrams at WILLOUGHBy, and he promised either to discover what it meant or propose to me. So he proposed. Letitia. And you accepted? Why? Clara. It was a choice of evils. You see, Papa is a most tire- some man to live with. He is always quoting passages from the Latin primer, and never uses words of one syllable where words of five syllables will do. Besides, he is too fond of port. So what with his port and his polysyllables and his Latin quotations, I grew so much bored I would have accepted any one, any one. Letitia. You mad thing! (Embraces her ardently.) love WILLoUuGHBY ? Clara. Love him! I loathe him. Are ali men bores, LaT1T1a ? Letitia. All men in this part of the county. Clara. Something in the air I en ? Well, I’ve made up my mind. I won’t marry WimLoveHBy. I’d rather stay with Papa, though, Heaven knows, he’s tiresome enough. Letitia. Patterne is a nice house. Clara. Nice! Where do you think they exhibit the wedding- presents ? Letitia (mildly). In the drawing-room, I suppose. Clara. In the laboratory! Think of it! W edding-presents amid the wreck of WILLoUGHBY's unsuccessful explosions. And I loathe chemicals almost as much as I loathe my future husband. Letitia. Have ‘you asked Sir WiLLouGHByY to release you from your engagement? Have you asked him plainly ? Clara (doubtfully). Well—as plainly as anybody is ever allowed to speak in this part of the county. Letitia. He misunderstood you, of course ? Clara. Oh, entirely. But I shall try again after lunch. ACT III.—The Laboratory at Patterne. Time—E vening. Sir WILLoveHByY, fumbling with his chemicals, soliloquises. Sir W. At last I am to be allowed to speak. For two whole acts I have been forced to keep silence. Now to soliloquise. Why does Ciara tly me? Ihave my points. Mrs. Mountstuart said [ had aleg! How does that woman discover these things? But here is Latit1a. I must keep up my reputation for obscurity. (Enter Laetitia.) Latitia, the fair besiege us, sweep to the assault, plead impassioned. Why, when the breach is carried, when they sweep and swim ebullient to the capture, call a halt, parley, fall back refluent ? mansion strong, firm-set, very rock. To it they strive pendulous, crepitant as dancers toe to heel advancing, swaying one foot up, t’other come down. Suppose—— Letitia. Sir WILLouGHBy ! Sir W. (aside). Interrupted, by Jove! Letitia (anxiously). Are you quite well ? Sir W. Of course. Why ? Letitia. Those involved sentences, those Should you not see a doctor ? Sir W. Was ever man so misunderstood ! offer of marriage. Letitia. But you are engaged to CLARA. Sir W. Ciara asked me to release her after lunch. refused, but what of that ? shall marry me. Letitia. Thank you; I'd rather not. Sir W. Lzrrria, you amaze me. I ask you to marry me, marry me. (He brandishes a test-tube. Laetitia. Do be careful. I am sure something will explode. Please put that nasty thing down. Sir W. Not unless you promise to be mine. Letitia. Never. Sir W. Ah! [In his emotion he drops the test-tube, which blows up with a loud report. Sir W. falls prone. Letitia. Clumsy man! knew he would. that settles him. How pleased Cxara will be. able to marry Mr. WuHITFoRD. nobody any good. rit. He bores me to extinction. tortuous expressions. It’s true I L2&TITIA, you are ever faithful. You Now she will be It’s a poor explosion that blows (Exit. Curtain. Are | But you Or, to vary the metaphor, es a | I was making you an | Thank goodness |