Punch 1899-05-31: Vol 116

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May 3!', 1899.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 253 . '- Zz : jE, Uy, = “ WaZ a LID: L. ~ ON WA AN AFTER-DINNER DREAM OF THE DERBY. OUR BOOKING-OFFICE. At a period which everybody hopes is still far off the close of a busy life, Justin McCarrtuy sits down to write his Reminiscences, published in two handsome volumes by Cuatro anp WINDUs. Since the time of Ulysses few have seen more of cities and of men. The rare peculiarity of Mr. McCarruy’s work is that, reviewing troops of friends paraded on the field of a marvellous memory, he has not an unkind thing to say of any one. There is one passage at which the temptation to sprinkle a little cayenne pepper on his dish seemed irresistible. Writing to him in 1866, at the time when on the Reform Bill certain Liberals led by Mr. Lows deserted Mr. GLapsTonE and the Liberal Party, forming the world-famed Cave of Adullam, Mr. Bricut alludes to them as “ the traitors of our ranks.” For fear that way of putting it should not be harsh enough, he italicises the phrase. Mr. McCartruy might here have recalled the fact that when, exactly twenty-six years later, another Liberal cave was formed and Mr. GLADSTON# was again deserted, the seceders were not called anything worse than ‘“ Dissentient Liberals,” a phrase, my Baronite tells me, Mr. Bricgut personally resented as offensive. It must not be supposed that because Mr. McCartuy’s Reminiscences lacks the pungency malice purveys that it is mild in the sense of weakness of portraiture, bluntness of observation, or infelicity of expression. In each respect the fact is the reverse, Mr. McCarrsy therein particularly excelling. In the United States, on the Continent. ont at home, he has known most people worth knowing through the past thirty years. In his pages they live again in their daily habit. Of all the friendly crowd the character that stands most fully revealed in these pages, and can most fearlessly meet the light, is that of the biographer himself, for whom, as for WHITTIER, whose sweetness of nature he largely shares, it was written in a day of retrospect — How softly ebb the tides of will! How hushed the hiss of party hate How fields, once lost or won, The clamor of the throng! Now lie behind me green and still How old, harsh voices of debate Beneath a level sun! Flow into rhythmic song ! Literary Gossip —My Baronite regrets to hear that a coolness | has sprung up between two lady novelists. Miss BgaTRIcE HaRRADEN recently published a novel she called The Fowler. The authoress of Isabel Carnaby resents this as being a little too ersonal. Miss FowLer threatens to call her next novel The arvaden. In Marianna ; and Other Stories (BURLEIGH), GEORGETTE AGNEW has given us a well-devised original plot (the Baron is speaking only of Marianna), which she has cleverly worked out in a tragically romantic story. Its one fault is a certain diffuseness, arising from the authoress having been led away by her artistic perception of the picturesque. Although the prologue is admirably written, yet, artistically, the story would have ——y in effect had not only the peorens, but aleo the epilogue (for so mav be fairly termed the nal chapter following on the dénciiment) been omitted, and had the story finished, no matter how abruptly, with the death of the heroine. Marianna might well have appeared alone, without her two companion stories, The Leaend of an Oak Cradle and Pauline’s Sacrifice, of which the latter will be singled out by any experienced romance reader as of great merit and originality, but here comparatively put in the shade by Marianna. Henceforth the authoress has in Marianna a powerful rival to compete witb, and that she witl do so triumphantly is the opinion of Tue Baron ve B.-W. THE TWENTY-FIRST CENTURY PUBLISHING COMPANY, LIMITED. | Tuts Company has been formed to carry on the ordinary business of a publisher on the system devised by the eminent American humorist, Mark Twatn, in a moment of seriousness. Instead of en books witbin a few months of their completion, the Company will not publish any wonk until a century after the death of the author. All unpleassntness, opposition, and fear of | litigation on the part of the author’s contemporaries will thus be javoided. In the case of any author who may wieh to receive | remuneration for his work, the necessary deeds will be drawn up by the Company's solicitors to secure for his heirs, or their assigns, a sbare of the profits or a royalty on each copy sold. The Com- pany cannot treat with any impecunious writer whatever who might be misguided enough to desire some profit for | himself during his lifetime. The public taste varies so much during @ year, or even during a month, that it would be impossible | to estimate the probable sale of any work a century hence. The Company has received some very important testimonials from eminent authors. The following are a few extracts :— From a celebrated Authoress.—I think your scheme an excellent one, a should not personally be disposed to publish my works in thi i The present race of ignorant critics, actuated by mean envy of my attainments and achievements, attempts to depreciate the value of my books. Nevertheless, I have the largest circulation of any novelist in the world. I am convinced that my immortal works, the names of which are in the catalogue of every circulating library, will continue to,be published a century hence. SHAKSPEARE is not yet forgotten. Perhaps you might persuade Mr. Haut Carne to adopt your system. From a famous Author.— For others, mere penny-a-liners all of them, your plan is admirable. , I should not care for it. My works are not for one day, or for one century. They are for all time, including the present. SHaksPEAR wrote on this system, and I quite - ee ofit. Possibly Miss Marta Corer would like your method. From am eminent Poet.—Your system of publication is the best one could imagine for all ordinary poets. But for me, “by appointment” the official writer of odes and madrigals, instinct with journalistic actuality, the 7 of a day would be embarrass- ing. The delay of a century would be too terrible to contemplate. ** More long, more loved,” ss I have myself written, will apply to my poetry. But, immortal though they will certainly be, the actuality is indispensable for my effusions, to which I may apply the words of Perrarcu, ‘*Qimé ’1 pariar, ch’ ogni aspro ingegno e fero Faceva umile.” In my prose writings I am fond of quotaiions, but I will only give ou one more, this time not from a great English or Italian poet, but from a Latin one. ‘' Tempus edax rerum.” You might with advantage apply to Mr. ALGERNON SWINBURNE. From another eminent Poet.—Go to blazes! But previously, ere the sunlight sinks in the summer sea, send one of your beastly touting circulars to ALFRED AUSTIN. Kruger-Milner Concert. Tur High Commissioner will oblige with a song from My Milner’s Bill. Oom Pavt will retort with a pirate version of My Old Dutch, | of which the following is a specimen stanza: They ’ve bin without a vote for fifteen year, An’ it don’t seem a dy too much; There ain’t no party livin’ in the land What ’s a patch on this ’ere Ole Dutch! 909 Worrs wavine.—The “ Lyons’”’ share. VOL. CXVI,

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [May 31, 1899.

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“OTHERWISE ENGAGED.” Peace. ‘DEAR ME! HOW VERY DREADFUL! I wisH I COULD STOP TO SETTLE THAT AFFAIR, BUT I ’VE A PRESSING APPOINTMENT AT THE HacvueE.”

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May 31, 1899.) PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 255 PRIVATE VIEWS; MOSTLY UNPOPULAR. (By Mr. Punch’s Vagrant.) No. III.—Mrppuz Aas. WHen that my years were fewer, Some twenty years ago, And all that is was newer, And time itself seemed slow, With ardour all impassioned, I let my hopes fly free, And deemed the world was fashioned My playing-field to be. The cup of joy was filled then With Fancy’s sparkling wine ; And all the things I willed then Seemed destined to be mine. Friends had I then in plenty, And every friend was true ; Friends always are at twenty, And on to twenty-two. The men whose hair was sprinkled With little flecks of gray, Whose faded brows were wrinkled— Sure oe had had their day. And though we bore no malice, We knew their hearts were cold, For they had drained their chalice, And now were spent and old. At thirty, we admitted, A man may be alive ; But slower, feebler-witted, And done at thirty-five. If Fate prolongs his earth-days, His joys grow fewer still ; And after five more birthdays He totters down the hill. We were the true immortals Who held the earth in fee, For us were flung the portals Of fame and victory. The days were bright and breezy, And gay our banners flew, And every peak was easy To scale at twenty-two. . * > * And thus we spent our gay time As having much to spend, Swift, swift, that pretty playtime Flew by and had its end. And lo! without a warning I woke, as others do, One fine, mid-winter morning, A man of forty-two. And now I see how vainly Is youth with ardour fired ; How fondly, how insanely I formerly aspired. A boy may still detest age, But as for me, I know, A man has reached his best age At forty-two or so. For youth it is the season Of restlessness and strife ; Of ardour and unreason, _And ignorance of life. Since, though his cheeks be rosy, He will not understand, This boy, that all he knows he Has learnt at second-hand. But we have toiled and wandered With weary feet and numb; Have doubted, sifted, pondered,— How else should knowledge come ? And though no rose our cheeks have, The sky still shines as blue ; And still the distant peaks have The glow of twenty-two. a i Bis Ae THSA LA Nese (cS! on. §*. oo eg . mend a tl) . Boy (to Brown, who is exceedingly proud of his sporting appearance). ‘WANT A DoNKEY, MISTER?” SOUTH AFRICA REVISITED. By ZEDWHYEKS. |. NEAT-HANDED FILLIS may, or may not, have been well-advised in bringing 300 | Kraal-dwellers and trekkers into the middle | of Giddiest West Kensington, but he has at | any rate given us a real live show, a by no | means rose-coloured, nor, it may be added, | rose-scented, representation of life in the wilds of the Dark Sub-continent. Readers of RipgR HaGccarp and OLIve ScHREINER, that is to say, every ‘‘ Great Briton” (why are not we dwellers within the four seas so called ?), should “roll up,” as they say in the Colonies, to revise their ideas of this — A 5 ene Britain, -¥ learn to istinguish between imspan and impi, kopje and kloof, and not to spell veld with a ; tat the end, as the programme and the public persist in doing. To see the scenery at the Empress Theatre alone is worth a visit, to say nothing of the baboons that sit on the -line, the elephants that deserve the Red Cross for their ambulance work, the battered and original Gwelo coach with its still more original driver, and the great imdaba of natives around ‘ Prince” LosBeEn sitting (apparently) on his thumb. But when we come to the more than cinematographic reproduction of sanguinary events that occurred only three years ago, with, in one case, the actual participants on both sides repeating history before us, we are on more delicate ground, and one wonders what are the actual sentiments of the swaggerin Matabele as they file through the lines o spectators back to their kraal after the erformance. However, the ‘“ Genial rank,” as they always call him at the Cape, deals out poetic justice in the end. At least five dusky warriors are mown down by the deadly spitfire maxims. Alto- gether, itis a very = show, with a little too much rifle-cracking, and some food for solid reflection. SUGGESTION BY OUR OWN IRREPRESSIBLE Onz.—Epaar A. Poit’s ‘‘ Gold Bug”’ was pro- bably a sequel to Jason’s Hunt for the Golden Fleas.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARI VARL [Mar 31, 1899.

JONES RIDE DOWN TO Epsom | BOLTED ON TO THE COURSE AND GOT MIXED UP IN A RACE, HE ©

‘So MUCH PLEASANTER TO WATCH THE RACES ON HORSEBACK’ "HE siip)= Bur wHen nis Hick HANGED HIS MIND.

HAMLET FOR LADIES. the interpreter is likely to affect the rdle. ; The following ints, according to our Now that Madame BernuarprT is about trustworthy Paris Correspondent, are the to appear as Hamlet in London, interest | principal ones in which Madame Bern- 18 naturally excited as to how the sex of HARDT’S interpretation will depart from accepted traditions. On first seeing the Ghost (in the fourth | scene of the first act) masculine actors have | | usually spoken in a husky and awe-struck | whisper by way of tribute to the super- | natural visitant. Madame Bern#arprT will | greet the mysterious phantom with a shrill | scream, without which no lady, on the stage, has ever been known to receive a ghost. Again, in the third act, when Polonius is eavesdropping, the accomplished actress | will make a great point of Hamlet's cry | ‘How now! A rat?” Springing lightly upon a chair and wrapping Soe deok tightly about her ankles, she will give a masterly | representation of the terror which the| presence of a rat or mouse invariably arouses | in the breast of a lady on the stage. The | Queen, similarly alarmed, will take refuge on another chair, and it will be only after a servant has entered and despatched the in- | vading beast that the two ladies will venture | to look behind the arras. They will then | discover the corpse of Polonius, and the | i : jv fall en an — scene of | Por a : relief, ame BrERNHARDT exclaiming, in | PEEL’S PILL FOR PALE-ALE PEOPLE. | French, “ Thank goodness, it wasn't a rat Dr. Peel, “ This ia our prescription, Mr. Bung. | after all!” If ty will swaliow it, your troubles will be at an In the Soliloquy, again, a novel and inter- , oe = ‘ ,,, | esting point will be made. Hamlet will be Mr. Bung. “ I should rather think they would ! | discovered working at a sampler, and when [The findings of Lord Peet's Report (to be pre-| he comes to the lines— sented shortly) on the Licensing Commission have ; i i i been published, and contain very drastic recom- whe ee aii

mendations regarding the extinction of public- he will seize and brandish this implement, which, as may be supposed, will be lying on an adjoining work-table. These, and other special features of Madame BERNHARDT'S interpretation, will be anxiously looked for when M. Marcet Scawos's version is pro- duced next month at the Lyceum.

= SDP; —“ SS SSeS NY 4 \ NY \Y ha ee NY YN Cw = << Ne y Ww — SS ST : Oe \\ SSS SRAAAAQAN Mince can SSWAE ee SSNNND me AA LAS

[The Tailor and Cutter again complains of the | sartorial art as displayed in the pictures of the Royal Academy. ] Suggestion for future portraits: Heads by emi- nent Painters, other portions by eminent fashion- plate artists, as above.

houses. } me

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May 31, 1899.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 257 AYLWINNIEWYNNE; OR, THE ROMANY ROT. (After Mr. Th-d-re W-tts-D-nt-n, by Mr. Punch’s Depreciator.) CuaptsrR I.—The Apostle. ‘You are with me, dear Master,” said the pom WILDEBEEST, ‘‘and all the exponents of the symbolic school are with me, too, when I say that studies from the human figure may be divided into two broadly-distinguishable groups—studies from the male and studies from the female. Now my late model, who assisted me in the second of these two fields of labour, was a gift of the gods; sent, I am assured, from Heaven by my sainted grand- mother, who was in the bargee business. ithout affectation of modesty, I may say that she promised to be the making of m immortal picture, ‘ The Pursuit of Innocence’ (now due in Bon Street); and would also have contributed largely to the triumph of the adjacent predella representing ‘ Arethusa in the Bulrushes.’ ‘* As chief living apostle of the Aylwinniewynnian theory, first evolved by the inspired father of our young, but erring, friend, the hero, in his — work, D.T.; or, The Spotted Dog—a work despised by H-rs-rtT Sp-Nc-R, but highly commended by the great and good W. T. St-p—I am something of a mystic. But not to every — seer is it given to discover, in the promenade of the Walhalla, selling daisies, a type of virgin pure as the unsullied flowers she proffered to the passer-by. I tracked her home to the residence (at Wapping) of her mother, Mrs. BLUDGEON, specialist in bloaters. e it was that in person chaperoned the Ideal to my studio; though, after a few sittings, I dispensed with the elder lady’s services, which were all too plainly rompted by venal avarice. Everything went well till the adora- bie iss BiupGeon developed fits. During the crises of these cataclysms her tout ensemble became rigid; while her face, the emblem of artless innocence under its eager Celtic fringe (for she came of a Welsh line,—I think the Snowdon-Llanberis branch) acquired the verisimilitude of a carbuncle set in paste of Paris. “ Taught to regard all phenomena as designed for my ultimate rofit by the sainted Jemima WILDEBREST (now in Heaven, but ouneely in the bargee business), I took advantage of these re- curring seizures to paint the possessed girl into my picture of ‘ Lot's Wife’ for the ensuing Salon. What were the predisposing causes of her malady (I allude to Miss BiupGgon rather than to the wife of the well-known pontents * am at a loss to conjecture ; but I confess that the events which immediately preceded these appalling visitations appeared, to my thinking, inadequate to account for so complete a derangement of her mental equilibrium. Such simple and altogether beautiful words as chal, chavi, or dukkeripen, falling inadvertently from my lips in the course of a soliloquy, would throw her, without fail, into a condition of coma bordering upon petrifaction. The most distant and incidental allusions to the great gipsomaniac, my honoured friend Gzorcs: TxEoporg Wartts-Borrow, would er a similar catastrophe. “At first, I would have you understand, there was nought of ulterior design in my Romany ramblings. But gradually, as I grew to recognise the hand of the sainted bargee at work in these manifestations, and since my second masterpiece, that of ‘ Lot’s Wife,’ was somewhat in arrears—considering the comparative maturity of the season—I frankly admit that from time to time of set purpose I produced the conditions that I had found favourable to demoniacism ; thus, peradventure, employing my mystic powers less mercifully than became an Aylwinniewynnian adept. In the regrettable result, during a dim gloaming in the moon of February, she fell into a state of rigidity, from which, when I desired to revert to my other canvas, ‘ The Pursuit of Inmocence’ (the ome on the countenance of ‘Lot's Wife’ being too wet for urther manipulation), I signally failed to extract her. “ Eastward in a taxameter 4 I conveyed her crystallised form, and when I reached the first rung of the ladder leading to Mrs. BiupGEon’s chambers, the girl was dead! I took the liberty, a few days later, of calling to inquire after her, and learned that her condition was unchanged.” “ Ah!” said the Master. “For Miss Biupeson herself,’ continued WitpEsEEst, “I make no inane lament. As she graced my poor studio with her unearthly presence, so will she be the ornament of _? other sphere whereinto that which is carnal enters not; and I am confident that at this moment the sainted Jemma WILDEBEEST is according her an enthusiastic reception. The Mother, though for so near a relative she was singularly free from racial similarity, will not, I fear, replace her readily. But it is for myself that I am most painfully exercised. Your own experience, dear Master, will have taught you how increasingly difficult it must be, in this gross Agnostic age, to discover either the type, at once alluring and guileless, that should serve me for my first chef-d’wuvre, ‘ The Pursuit of Innocence,’ or the other, the Pentateuchal type, suitable for my second chef-d’cewvre, ‘ Lot's Wife’; while the prospect of Palace. Owner. ‘‘I TELL you I CAN’T HELP you. HAD A BAD Day!” Genial and Festive Cadger. ‘‘ WELL, I SHOULDN’T ’AVE ARST YER, Guv’nor, BuT I’VE LORST ALL THE Money I ’ap ABOUT ME BACK- ING youR ’ORSE, AND NOW, TO MAKE MATTERS WORSE, I FIND I’vVE BEEN AND LEFT ME CHEQUE-BOOK ON THE DRORIN’-ROOM TABLE !” finding in the selfsame woman a model for ideals so inherently divergent, is beyond the bounds of human probability. Even your Romany friend with the biceps, the bruising Lady Trizs1, would not altogether meet the case. ‘“‘T should say not,” said the Master. It is impossible from the fragmentary intercourse recorded above to give any just idea of the incomparable brilliance of epigram and repartee which used to characterise every audible word of the Master, doubtless already recognised by my readers as no other than the famous Gasere. D’Anty. The dawn, stealing up the monu- mental river and throwing into Rembrandtesque relief the pure outline of the Chelsea barges (WILDEBEEST was never rightly inspired except within smell of a barge), found the two friends still in con- verse. The Master, true to his familiar sobriquet of Camaralza- man, was attired in a flowered Oriental dressing-gown, while the Aylwinnie ian WILDEBEEST assisted in his customary costume of a Salvation Bombardier. After a hearty supper of Curagoa and Cymric rabbit, they ad- journed to the back-pleasaunce. 1t was characteristic of the Taster that he should have fitted up this oasis in the Wild South- West as a first-class ménagerie. ere was a specimen of every creature known to Barnum, from the most insignificant armadillo to the largest-sized hippopotamus, the latter asleep at the time in a Renascence fountain. ** How you adore Nature!” said his friend, patting the snout of the unconscious brute. ‘My sainted grandmother, Jemima WILDEBEEST——”’ “You err,” interrupted D’Anty. ‘“ My love of Nature is a laboriously acquired taste, won from books. What I admire, WILDEBEEST, in the constituent members of my Zoo, is their human idiosyncrasies; I derive a divine joy in discovering the facial affinities between them and my personal friends.” A typical remark that may serve, if faintly, to indicate those endearing qualities in D’Anry that so fascinated the artistic circle of which he was the acknowledged Master. (Not finished yet.) A SHow WHICH OBVIOUSLY OUGHT TO BE PATRONISED BY ALL JOURNALISTS.—The Article Club Exhibition at the Crystal ea

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARLI. [May 31, 1899. ~ SN >) = Se SS NS SS wa SSS SS SS SS Wy 4 Yi y i “GREAT ATTRACTION!” Now THat Mapamg BERNHARDT HAS MADE 80 CONSPICUOUS A SUCCESS AS HAMLET, WHY SHOULD NOT SHE AND OUR LEADING TRAGEDIAN JOIN FORCES WHEN SHE COMES TO Str HeNry’s OPHELIA WOULD BE SURE TO ATTRACT MORE THAN PASSING NOTICE. | LONDON ? THACKERAY AND MR. PUNCH. From the United States — ‘* Whence Winds are Wafting Wheat and Weather, Winter Wool and Warm Well- Wishing ”— the American Critic has lately arrived, con- taining strange allegations as to the contri- butions which THacksray, noblest and most brilliant of my early lieutenants, is — to have contributed to my pages. s the American Critic poking fun at us, I wonder, or at its readers? oes it find some latent humour in affixing—or seeking to affix—one man’s name to the writings of his contemporaries, selected at random with all the boldness of irresponsible ignorance ? No, no, Mr, Critic, you belie your name: true criticism does not consist in accepting | the ipse dizit of the first gentleman who | claims, as you tell us, that his knowledge is gained from “patient work, his informa- tion being derived from sources known ~*~ to himself.” Known only to himself! should think so. It does not require a Critic to ascribe Mr. Fox’s policy to Mr. Burks, or to discuss the ‘‘ Night Watch” | |as the finest work of the hand of Rusens. How many years of “‘ patient work” would be required for such discoveries ?—and what amount of mystery as to the source of | his information ? If you had not made such a mighty fuss about your articles and your Mr. Dickson, I should perhaps have been disposed to let the matter pass; but when you announce urbi et ordi that by dint of “ special know- ledge” and ‘years of research” you are making tremendous revelations as to the inner facts of my past history, it behoves me, as the jealous proprietor of that history, to tell you that your facts are no facts, and that that treasure—for treasure I admit it to be—is not what you A rye call ‘ Thackeray treasure” at all. “A wise scepticism,” said your admirable Mr. Lowsgtu, ‘is the first attribute of a good critic.” It is to be regretted, Sir, that you have left this first attribute to your readers and your commentators. No, Sir; Mr. TuHackeray did not write “The Astley-Napoleon Museum.” That amusing sketch was penned by my most ex- cellent GitsERT ABBoTT ABECKETT. By the same hand is the burlesque of Grorce Rosrins’s method of advertising his auc- tion-sales. That the appropriateness of THaAcKERAY’s sketch to it is not apparent to your Mr. Dickson does not in the circum- stances surprise me. ‘ Punch’s Condensed Magazine ’’—in which your author so shrewdly sees THACKERAY’S hand and the germ of his immortal ‘‘ Prize Novelists ”»— is unfortunately by quite another of my early contributors, ALBERT SmiTH. My first sole editor, Mark Lemon, it was who contributed ‘** Recollections of the Opera,” which you sagaciously reprint at length as THACKERAY’s; and the honest if bitter pen of Doua.as JERROLD wrote “Beau Brummel’s Statue, Trafalgar Square ”’—in which you admire the Titmarshian touch, and fin’ prophetic hints of The Four Georges and Vanity Fair. Embroider your material as you will, it remains a tissue—of rubbish. There are other errors, but I have said enough. I only add that, so far as I am concerned, you may confuse other authors and other writings in other works as you choose. But you will please leave m writers untainted by your “special” criti- cism, and, above all, you must consider | Mr. THACKERAY’S name and reputation as | sacred. His record is a fair one, and needs | no bungling interference from the first blind ferret that calls himself a ‘‘ Thackeray expert.” One of the chiefs at South Ken.- | sington recently informed the astonished | House of Commons Committee of Inquiry | that he considered that the Parliamentary | examination had ‘‘ knocked the bottom out of | expertise ’—and I joined in the general sur- prise. But, upon my word, if Mr. Arm- STRONG had had many Mr. Dicksons under observation, he stands magnificently vindi- | cated to-day ! PUNCH. | FAREWELL TO MAY! (A Poem with Parentheses.) Waar a merry month of May! (Heap the coals upon the fire), When the frisky lambkins play, (Glad I’m wearing warm attire), Daffodils peep out of bed (Would that I were snug in mine), Chesnuts blossom overhead (Wonder when it will be fine ?) Shepherds play on pipes of reeds 4 (Pass the matches, if you please) To the milkmaids in the meads (Atchoo! bless me! what a sneeze 1) Nightingales sing down the lane fi ’m as hoarse as any crow), Spring is with us once again (Eh ? What's this ? Commenced to snow ?).

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.—May 31, 1899. = se — A / 4 4 — Pil -- Uf Sir ALFR-D M-LN-R sings :— MORAL THERE WAS A “ HIGH COMM.” WHO SAID, “ HOW SHALL I TACKLE THIS WILY OLD COW, SUASION. I WILL SIT ON THIS STILE AND CONTINUE TO SMILE, WHICH MAY SOFTEN THE HEART OF THIS ,COW!”

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Mar 31, 1899.) PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL. 261 | because I feel the Equal of any Man or Woman, and all the hat lifting in the world doesn’t make Winners. It only promotes sycophants and cigarettes. From a Picca- | dilly and Pall Mall point of view the Derby is over, but I venture to differ with precon- | ceived notions in as far as place-money is “= (concerned. Therefore I predict without \A S | prejudice— \ I cannot go Nap on My Son, ‘ Ad. OURIOK | For Modesty co tind ys ly But they tell me the Sword is Al, Me That the Ensign may p’raps go the pace; Of the Curse of Ould Erin beware | _ (I’ve heard this from many a lip), To whom Landlord may prove a smart scare | When the Baronet comes down the * dip.” | For myself I am going for one, | Sly Reynard the winner I find, | And the Westminster crack is the crock you should aa With the Frenchman and B.’s just behind. My revered Uncle—a Goth in matters of taste—begs me to call your attention to the fact that gin mixed with all manner of bitters, Orange, peach, Angostura, Khoosh, etc., is the most appetising teazer in the world. I have not tried his recips, but I THE REAL DERBY WINNER. oS for the benefit of yourself and RossON UP—GOES ONE BETTER THAN Top SLOAN. Your Obedient Servant (registered), Ascotr HkatH, C7 (1) Tae Start,—Mr., Coventry in a dead ASCOTT HEATH ON THE DERBY. Honourep §1r,—My revered Uncle,| (2) Tas BRaca,—Top Stoan, Morxy THE OLD REFRAIN. Darpy JonEs, being still confined to his| Cannon, or O. Mappen trying to square} Tux attention of such composers as love room by gout (I state this fact in view of | Tattenham Corner. ; the modern fashionable ballad with a French the malevolent suggestions of certain) (3) Tas Fixisu,—Cheering of the Winner | refrain (and the present writer flatters him- traducers), I am requested by him to convey | while the Welshers vamose. self that his French is the genuine article— to you my impressions of what the Ordinary! Throw in the Property Dog, the Police- | rather !) is directed to the following lines :— journalist styles ‘‘ The Great Epsom Carni-|men, the Coaches, the Omnibuses, the val.” My Uncle and myself differ, I trust, | Nigger Minstrels, and the Toy Vendors, and very much in our appreciations of Humanity you will probably have a correct realisation and Horseflesh. Between ourselves, now | of a scene, which I am given to understand that he is laid up on a bed of sickness, he| will be brought to our eyeballs in the knows no more distinction between a rock- | forthcoming Crystal Palace Review. This ing-horse and a racing crock than does an is not my way of looking at the Derby. I ordinary mortal between sausages and | am young and foolish (so I am told), and I mashed potatoes and a filet de sole a /a| like to find others as youngand more foolish Oh! sing me a song, my darling, Oh! sing to me once again, The cuckoo bird and the starling Are chanting the old refrain. Then tell me a tale at twilight, Do not refuse me, dear, I hear the cats on the sky-light, Laissez les tous venir. Dieppoise. There you apprehend me, I/as myself. Give me Epsom on the top of a Oh! sing to me in the gloaming, imagine. His idea of the Derby is a pano-| coach, whence I can gaze upon creation— The song that I love the best ; rama of vulgar revelations, such as you | and it is creation unlimited in every respect The cattle are homeward roaming may read in the descriptive account of |—with the eye of a Lord thereof. I don't The rose has retired to rest ; any daily newspaper. run about like my honoured Uncle picking Then sing in those accents tender The show arranged by Mr. CHARLES | up “tips.” I have them all in my pouch. Which I so love to hear, Morton on the cinematograph would pro-|I don’t salute Noblemen and Eminent Toasting my toes on the fender, bably run as follows :— Commoners with hat liftings, as he does, Laissez les tous venir. 4 FRESH StTeocn OF BRACING Lieut ‘ ~_ JUST ARRIVE _ heer \, ° . 4 p cy ey D Air} D im) CONSTANT SUPPLY FRom ALL Twe Cwer Heart RESORTS THE “LIQUID AIR” DEPARTMENT IN THE STORES. A vossibility, if the New Invention can be utilised as above.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON

CHARIVARI. [May 31, 1899,

Van Our Daughter. ‘‘ YES, DEAR. | a, 7 ia Our Poet. “* AND WAS M¥ ANGEL MOVED TO Z7EARS BY MY POOR LITTLE WorK?” So SILLY, WASN'T IT, TO CRY AT NOTHING!” THE CRITIC AS PLURALIST. At Sea, May 238, 1899. Dear Mr. Puncu,—I have been looking up a late controversy in the Daily Chronicle }on the question whether a critic should | write a variety of reviews on the same book under different pseudonyms, and so give | the false appearance of a wide consensus of | opinion about the merits of that book; and |I find a letter written by a Mr. Buttock | which says, ‘Every one knows when he reads the columns signed ‘ CLaup1us CLEAR’ | and‘ A Man or Kent’ in the British Weekly, | and the column signed ‘ O. O.’ in the Sketch, | that he is reading ‘Comment and Chat’ by | the gentleman who edits the Bookman... . Every one, I say, whose foot is within the literary circle knows this.... Within the pale no one is deceived in the least; every one reads and knows.”’ Now, Sir, I am very far from wishing to insinuate that it is pos- sible to have your foot, and even your head, “within the literary circle,” without so much as consulting the printed matter of any one of the three organs above-mentioned ; but I do protest against the confusion of journalism with literature. ‘‘ Within the pale,” indeed! Why, Sir, the gentleman’s spelling is at fault: it should be pail, Sir, LA-LL: a twopenny bucket beside the great ocean. An QOtp Satr. fours,

SAFE FINANCE. (Page from the Diary of an Up-to-date Calculator.) Monday.—Really must get a better house. Arranged to take a very presentable mansion in Grosvenor Square. Rather expensive, but when I come in for my money [ shall be able to afiord it—at any rate for a fort- night. uesday.—Greatly neglected horse-racing. Should be able to pull off something by some careful calculation. Booked a few bets. If I lose it will be all right when the money I — upon is paid to me. ~Wednesday.—Visit the Stock Exchange. Act contrary to the advice of my broker and | flutter a bit. If I lose I can fall back upon || \ ; \ _ \e wn\ ) \

“GOOD BUSINESS!” “ Par parenthése,” says the writer of the account in the Daily Telegraph, from which we quote, ‘the Tournament will also go on tour as far as Glasgow, and that ultimately Liverpool and other large centres will be able to see how the British Soldier recruit is trained and made a first-class fighting man.” Is the Military show to go on tour like WomBwetu’s Menagerie or Lorp GrorGE Sancer’s Circus? If so. make Mr. Lorp GsorGs Sancer a Field-Marshal, and give him all the arrangements. Will there be also starring engagements of noble commanders and gallant officers, who will personally show how fields were won? The roystering Irish private must not be omitted “ with a song,” after the style of Cuartes Lever’s Micky Free, and of course, the pipes and Highland Fling will offer no inconsiderable attraction due north. If this idea is well and tho- roughly carried out, what a chance there will be for those who have been forced un- willingly to retire, and who are as young as i] ever they were. There could be a revival of the = old Military and Equestrian drama of ancient Astleian days, modernised, of course, and Napoleonic episodes omitted. An excellent idea. What says the Com- mander-in-Chief ?

| | | | the small fortune waiting for me, THE BILLIARD CHAMPIONSHIP. Thursday. — Cards are realiy a very leasant distraction. Went to the club, Deak S1z,—If there be now —_ al with the aid of outside bets, found prehension on the part of Mens: Honzets |myalt,on the wrong side to quis Tai . co , amount. However, e hold the proud position of Champion of | obtain my enecial Fae <n elite pee ara- England at billiards, permit me to state; 7,jday.—Completed my outfit. |robe and jewel case ae Boy Set up that having won the West Diddlesex Handi- cap, the Austro-Germanic Tournament, and | Heavy expenditure, but - . : for the season. the Franco-Belgic Carrousel, I consider warranted by my expectations. Saturday.— Stony broke! Oh. horror! By some myself to be the leading representative of | British Billiards ; and I am willing to stake | 4} my calculations falsified. | unlucky chance, contrary to expectation, I |did mot draw the winner of the Derby any sum from half-a-crown upwards to prove my title. My conditions are as follows :— 1. No pockets allowed save in the case of | Sweep! losing hazards.

ee a Te

2. No cue to be used less than six feet in length. 3. No calling of the game by the marker. 4. No representatives of the press to be present. 5. No blue chalk to be used. 6. The spot stroke to be barred only when detected. I think, Sir, that you will agree that these “THe Rug DE LA LUNE COMES DOWN.’’— With regret one reflects that another bit of vieux Paris, the Rue de la Lune, is about to be “‘improved”’ off the face of the town. Wherefore to parody a popular poem of the café-concert, Il faut aller voir La Rue de la Lune, Cette rue ancienne

conditions are fair. Yours obediently, JOHN JIGGER.

Qui tombe ce soir. But, perhaps, this threat of destruction,

Morro FoR THR TRANSVAAL CONFERENCE. —Peace in the Rand is worth two in the Bosch. like the majority of French menaces, is all |moonshine. In any case, should ‘* Moon Street fall, we trust the tenants of its houses | will be adequately remoonerated.

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ea May 31, 1899.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. THE TRUE REASON. [“ According to the Drapers’ Record, the dearth of dancing men is due to the rough materials of women’s dresses. Some of the corsages now being worn are a8 damaging to a coat as a bundle of thistles, and prove fatal to the nap.”"—Daily Paper.] PHYLLIS may wear some rugged stuff That tears one’s nap like thorns and thistles, Her corsages may be as rough As bristles ; That is not why in ball-rooms hot I dance no longer through the season ; No, Drapers’ Record, that is not The reason. Shall I, for fear my coat may tear, Refuse to sport with AMARYLLIs ? Shall I the dainty waist forswear Of Puytuis ? Shall I through all the long, long night Desert the solitary CHLOE, Just to preserve my nap so bright And showy ? Preserve my nap? Ah, that brings round Another aspect of the question ; Sleep is as precious as a sound Digestion ; To dance with PHYLLIs is, no doubt, A charming substitute for heaven, But I prefer my bed about Eleven. FOOD AND PHILOSOPHY. (Mems. from a Note-book picked up in Pall Mall.) THOROUGHLY enjoyed my first meal. Por- ridge, coffee, a steak, and a couple of eggs. Just enough to usher in the day’s doings. Cannot understand how the French manage to live on a tea, even when “ complete.” Mid-day and lunch. Mistake to have it too late. And yet breakfast has to be digested. Say 12.30. I think soup is essen- tial. Not too much, but just enough to serve as a contrast to a fried sole, a roasted fowl, and some simple sweet. Cheese at discretion, with a café and a chasse. Surely that is enough for any one. Five o’clock is sacred to chat and tea. But there can be no possible objection to buttered buns or a few muffins. But not toomany. As the clock approaches six one gets within reasonable distance of dinner. Seven-thirty, and the principal meal of the day becomes its principal business. An oyster or two, or even three. A couple of ladles of soup—clear of course. A fish entrée and whitebait. Perhaps a filet de beuf. A vegetable. A capon salad, savoury, and dessert. What more could one desire ? Champagne for choice. Mistake to mix your wine. Coffee and brandy, of course. After the theatre, just a snack. Grilled bones at the club. Nothing more. Wash them down with a glass of beer. Indeed it is true, as Lord Rosepmry said at Carshalton, ‘‘ However wealthy you are, you cannot eat more than one dinner a day.” Quite, quite true! You can only eat one ner a day—and extras! Curious, yst Trux.—Why is it highl probable that Mr. Winson come. highly manager, and author, cannot write his own name? Because it seems that he always makes his mark ” with the sign of the cross. .SLERP No More f — Since the QuEEn’s birthday the people of Windsor will never repose quietly throughout the year, for they always have a Knight Mayor now. A PROTEST IN THE Honest John (M-rl-y). ACCURSED MAN-OF-ARMS ! ‘*Nay, FRIEND BALFOUR, SUCH UNSEEMLY GLORY WILL BRING OUR LITTLE LAND TO SHAME, A ZY \ \S PARLIAMENT HOUSE. OUR PCCKETS ARE CLOSED TO THIS VERILY, IT BRINGETH TO MIND THE WORST DAYS OF THE MEN WELLINGTON AND NELSON!” IL POVERO. (‘Lord Rosenery had a trying task yesterday —to demonstrate that on the whole it is rather | better to be a poor man.””— Daily News. | Hencs, vain, deluding Cash, Of Stock Exchange and Speculation born! In ~— black. forlorn, here niggers toil and dynamite doth crash. Find out some loathly cave Where the lean miser, o’er his hoarded notes And shining gold-boys gloats, The — with gleaming eye and craning nec He counts thee—— Hence! and wreck The happiness of him that is thy slave. But come, thou Goddess, fair and free, Hail, thou gladsome Poverty ! Strip me of my stocks and shares, Banish all my eating cares; Take away these castles, do! Take these spreading acres too, Take these servants, take these horses, Take away these endless courses ; And, instead of Paris cook, PuYLLIs, with her cooking book, Shall the remnant mutton hash, And the sausages and mash. Or, since Indigestion waits On my Paytuts’ well-stocked plates, Send me hunger, send me drouth, Let me live from hand to mouth! And when Sleep would close mine eye, Let me to the doss-house hie, Or on the Embankment damp, Tortured with the cold and cramp, Let me snatch a moment sweet, While the policeman ’s off his beat. These delights if thou canst give, Poverty, with thee I'll live. We may expect a lively time in ‘ Kaffirs’ now that the Earl’s Court Exhibition is opened.

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Reside

OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [May 31, 1899

’

. oa” - “Mie ”~ Fe: Mies Us la = “ A A Ty 7 7t eS Ch + ~* f, ~ Se Mhy wry ye teat Yourg Lord Duval Fitznoodle (to fair companion on box-seat, whom, wth her Mother, he is taking for a drive cn his Coach through his park), ‘‘1 THINK YOUR NAME IS SUCH A PREITY ONE, Miss PriMRosE.” Mrs. Primrose (from seat behind her daughter, with great empressement). ‘‘OH, BUT MY DAUGHTER LIKES rouR NAME, M¥ LoRD, sO MUCH BETTER—DON’T You, MILLIE!”

OPERATIO NOTES. HERE we go up, up, up with the prices, for what are considered special occasions, but the plan won't suit the public, especially that portion of it looking forward to the establishment of a National Opera House. at prices of admission within easy reach of most musical amateurs. Saturday, May 20h, is to be noted in 5 ee history for the conversion of Les uguenots! That is, The H ts was to have been given, but Mors. Sateza being ** indispoged,”’ Cavalleria and Pagliacci were substituted. Sure such a pair of Operas were never ccmposed to meet by nature, and to help a management in distress. Mile. StrakoscH came out admirably as Santuzza, and that clever, quick-change-to- anything—and ready, aye, ready at a mo- ment’s notice— artiste, Mlle. BAUERMBIS1ER, was drematically excellent (she can never be anytbing else, bless her!) as the little mother Lucia (without the Lammermoor). Whit Wet Mcnday.—Don't know how | Faust went, or if 8ateza, convalescent, was back again. Hope so. Mr. P.’s musical staff went a-Maying, with umbrellas and | waterproofs, and returned for WaGNER’s Der Fiiegende Hollander on Tuesday evening. Mr. Davin BispHa™M was as double a Dutch- man as heart could desire. Frau GADSKI was charming in singing and spinning as Senta. The nautical stage carpenters, or machinists, in charge cf the Dutchman's ship were apparently, ss was natural, very much at sea; while Herr Scuramm, a first-rate ‘Man at the Wheel—with a song,” might | have been almost better employed on board as the steward. The Operatic vessel was | piloted, in orchestra, through the violent | waves of sound by Dr. Muck, and _alto- gether our gay old friend, the Flying | Dutchman, “out for a flutter,” for this | night only. was thoroughly satisfactory. |_ Wednesday, May 24.—Queen’s Eightieth Birthday kept Operatically at Windsor, where Mons. JEAN and Mons. EDOUARD DE REsZKE, or, to put it briefly and classically, as there were two ‘* Mons,” the Montes DE Reszxe lifts up their fine voices in the characters of Lohengrin and Heinrich der Vogler ('Arnry the Warbler), with Madame |Norpica, Mister Davin BispHam, Frau ScHuMaANN-Hetrnk, and Herr MUHLMANN to | complete the right royal cast. Needless to | diately apparent.” say that in spite of the Duke of Saxre-Cosura aND GorTHa, attended by Lord Monson, having left the castle after dinner (don’t they like music?) the performance was a most brilliant success, and all the singers, personally conducted by Signor Mancrng.11, having been presented to her Gracious Majesty, and having responded heartily to the loyal toasts proposed by Messrs. Harry Hiecins and Mr. Maurice Grav of the Opera Sing-dicate, subsequently returned to town congratulating themselves onits having been a most heavenly performance, under the patronage of the celestial representative, Herr von ANGELI, who had watched over them with affectionate interest. Thursday.—The night after the Fair, i.e., after the Queen's Féte. Reaction expected. Not a bit of it. In spite of last night's fatigue, Mons. Epovuarp was going stronger than ever as the Herbalist Friar in Romeo and Juliette, while as to Madame MeEtza, she was at her very best as Juliette, to the delight of a crowded house. M. Satxza, excellent as Romeo, and MANcINgLLI all life and Jeading, and quite freshened up after his Wisit to Windsor.

“* Zany”’ writes to us :—Russia wants the right to construct a branch line from Kiakhta across the Gobi desert to Pekin. The Daily Mail says, “The commercial advantages of such a line are not imme- Surely it would be the popular line to Gobi. Srx important documents in the Dreyrvs case are now missirg. How careless pecple can be when they have custody cf damaging evidence !

4 Vy yy, ea

SEATS OF THE MIGHTY.—No. XVI. Tue Twain Writine CHAIR. This is a seat of great mark in literary circl’s, where its quaint design is much admired. Made of honest New Engiand ash and stained by the tobacco plant. Used as a deck chair in ell parts of the world. Unfortunately damaged by a carclees

publieher, but now in perfect repair. Expected by | ite owner to last another 100 years.