Punch 1899-11-29: Vol 117

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NoveMBER 29, 1899.]} PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARLI. 3 25 NOT TO BE TAKEN LITERALLY. wv. “WELL, WE MUST TRY THAT DIET, PATIENT AT WHEELBARROW FARM. (A study in the Rustic Fiction now so popular.) THE fire was low, and its light flickered graciously on three hams and two pieces of bacon dependent from the ceiling. The spout of the tea-pot on the dresser pointed vaguely towards the window. Two willow- pattern plates were on the table, one of them slightly chipped. High in the left- hand corner of the room was a cobweb, just above the grandfather’s clock, which was precisely three and a half minutes slow by Appletart Church. The cat on the hearthrug stretched itseif and yawned ; it had five grey hairs on the tip of its black tail. Old Tom GILEs and his wife sat silent, one on each side of the hearth. From time to time the man's left foot moved slightly, and there came the sound of a blackbeetle squashed quite flat. Once his wife blew her nose with a red pocket- handkerchief. Then she twiddled her thumbs in silence; and the only sound was the ticking of the old clock. A slight draught came through the cupboard door, and stirred the leaves of the red geranium in the window. And if this paragraph doesn’t show my ‘‘ power of close observa- tion ’’ and ‘‘ masterly realism,’’ I may as well chuck the business once for all. Now VOL. CXVII. Mrs. PopGER, AND IF IT DOES NOT ANSWER MUST FALL BACK ON Ea@s! like, and we can get on. At length the old farmer broke the stillness. ‘‘ Dick be main late,’’ he mur- mured. ‘* Iss, fai,’’ his wife answered, slowly scratching the top of her leftear. ‘‘ Like- nough mun ’Il be a-killin’ summat to-night. There baint no miirder in ar! the larst tii chapters. Sartin sure to be ‘nother soon. ’Tis a way us country-volk ‘ave i’ the nuvvels.”’ ‘*Ou, aye,’’ responded the other ex- citedly, ‘‘an’ gin ae puir bit body daesna’ fash himsel’——”’ ‘*Na, na!’’ broke in his wife. ‘‘Us be in a Devon biike now, thou girt viile! Nun o’ they Scots spache now!”’ ‘*So us be. "Tis mortal ’ard to kape 'em seprit-like—such a dale o’ wark as us ’as nowadays. But there be DICK’s step, surelie?”’ The door opened, and a young man stepped into the room, a gun under his arm. Without a word he sat down and unlaced his heavy boots. One after the other he flung them at the cat. His face quivered with emotion. ‘“You’ve diin it then, Dick, lad?”’ asked his mother, watching him anxiously. ‘* Aye,’’ he said gruffly, ‘‘’tis done. I shutted Squire dead over tii BALk’s Farm, | | ’cos mun dared to spake to ma MARY. An’ LIZZIE, that tulled tales o’ me—her won't tell na more, I rackon. Drowned mun, I did, i’ the mill-strame.”’ ‘** Brave lad!’’ cried his mother. ‘‘That’s what the piiblic love! Plenty o’ killin’, | and girt chunks o’ pathos. Rackon this ’}! be a prime favourite, this tale. So true to life an’ arl!”’ | But her husband held up the withered | |forefinger of his right hand in remon- |strance. The tears dropped from his eye |}and splashed on the third button of his waistcoat. | **Avye,’’ he cried, ‘‘ but the biike bain’t | |’arf done yet awhile! Don’t ’ee be zo | rackless, Dick! Squire’s dead,an’ MARY’s | sooicided, an’ LIzzIE's drownded—what be | left for the next vorty or fifty pages ?’’ | ‘** Whoy, shutts you, I dii, and bates th’ | old ’oman’s head in, and then pisons masel’ | at the finish.’’ ToM GILES rose to his feet in a fury. | He flung the warming-pan throngh the | window. He hurled two wooden chairs | across the room. Then he went for the |grandfather’s clock, and smashed it to jatoms. Then he scared the cat until the | five grey hairs on the tip of its tail in- |creased to a hundred and turned white. Then he dashed his clenched fist through all the panes of the window. Then he | spoke in concentrated essence of fictionary rustic dialect. ‘* Ye bletherin’ astee o’ a piir dowson, I'll ecranch tha’ marrerboskie, I tell’s }ee!’’ His son staggered back, and seemed not to understand his father’s meaning. Prob- | ably the reader is in the same position. | So is the author. Gy, i %, 4 f, 4 ty We | LOSING WEIGHT. (4 Case of Tuber-cu/losis.) The Tater (taking in his belt), ‘‘SHADE OF Srmr WALTER RALEIGH! I’M LOSING WEIGHT | EVERY DAY!” {According to a Paper read at the Statistical Society last week, the consumption of the Potato is steadily falling off. In 1893-95 it amounted to 313 lbs. per head per annum. In 1896-98 it bad fallen to 280 lbs. People are eating more meat and children are drinking more milk. | Z

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[NovemBer 29, 1899, ore eg = ; _ orn gage Hf Mf lithe P if if 4 : a ‘ a . : oe “ - - | | if / / L 7 : YW Sex a = | I it | bees // r Pay Tees CHARIVARI. ZA Ne A, el FAN eAVN | OR THE LONDON “THE QUEEN! GOD BLESS HER!” INCH, P Sr imal. Nee | ( inal nn eT a “. ee il al 7. SD TO: 0s 0. wun: =e

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NoveMBER 29, 1899.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON AUGUSTE AND LUDWIG. | | A TRIFLING DISPUTE. ScENE—The Railway Station at Genoa. Auguste. Enchanted of to have en- countered you here, dear Mister. What pleasure to voyage ensemble! See there one compartment. Mount, I pray you. | Ludwig. Please! Aug. I pray you of it! Lud. Also will I upstep. Aug. We are very well here. | Lud. Sehr bequem. Truly had you right | over the South Africanish mines actions. | Aug. Is it not? But that what we go to) gain more late! Lud. Kolossal ! Aug. I have some actions of the Char- | tereds. I believe that they not value | nothing, but the English are suchly naifs | that they believe all that say this RHODEs. | As that I shall sell my actions at some | | prices enormous, ridiculous. Lud. I also. | Aug. We go to profit by the efforts of | | the English barbers. | Lud. Barbers? Ach so, barbarians. Aug. C’est ca, barbares. | | Lud. Without doubt. | Aug. Ah, these English brigands ! What | war! What of it think you? Who will in fine be the conquerors ? Lud. The Englanders, without doubt. Aug. Hélas! I fear him. And however | for our little benefice I hope him. But | your compatriots love the English at | present. They have paid you enough | dear, in ceding to you Samoa. Lud. Yes well. It is very good. Aug. Before that your Emperor had the | other French. He willed to visit our Exposition. He shall come not. Lud. But wherefore not. Aug. Are they rused, these English ! | Always some disputes with some one, with | the Americans, with you, with we. And | in fine, at one certain moment, they | arrange all that, they are friends and | allies with the Americans, and then with you, and wesee there, we other French, all | soles. C’est assommant! It is assuming. But we have always the Russia. Lud. Truly ? Aug. Ah, but yes! There is not but very little of time one hoped to arrange one coalition of the great Puissances against the England. And your Emperor has spoiled all. Quel homme! Lud. What say you? Aug. Your Emperor changes of advice very quick. Lud. Please, the KAIsER—— ** Most | Gorgeous-looking Individual. Ot, THEN It’s CoLp. Wel | t if' hii] iN air of to will well to tie himself with we | N *STRORDINARY WEATHER, BLow ME, IF ONE KNowWs ’ow TO Dress! WA "i AIN'T If? First It’s ” en A ll —— = Aug. Saperlotte! J’oubliais la visite du Lud. But the KAIssrR—— CzaR. Affair of family, see there all. Aug. Connais pas, je vous dis. It is ons Lud. As you wish. But we have Samoa, | and you have not Fashoda. Aug. Fashoda! Diable! Qu’est-ce que vous dites? Ah, mon Dieu—— Lud. Aber sprechen Sie Englisch. Aug. English? Fashoda est une ville anglaise! Encore des injures! Vous étes on ne peut plus—— Lud. Ich verstehe nicht—— Aug. Vous avez beau parler votre horrible fi . P langue, langue disgracieuse et effroyable. ne to visit the England. Weother French | Je m’en moque. Je n’en comprends rien. we mock ourselves of his politic. Our) Ah, misérable Allemand—— dear friends and allies—— | Lud. Miserabel. Das verstehe ich. Lud. Forget you not how the Czar! unverschimter Franzose ! travelled over Berlin. Aug. Le train ne part pas encore. of your friends? Eh well, as man of State your Emperor is un je ne sais quoi——_-- Lud. Was sagen Sie? Schrecklich! Was fiir Majestatsbeleidigung ! Aug. I comprehend not one sole word. You be able to say all that you wish. But I repeat—— Lud. Abscheulich ! Aug. I repeat that your Emperor has Ach, Je descends & l’instant. Je ne veux pas voyager avec un sale Allemand—— Lud. Ach, Donnerwetter, was sagen Sie ? Aug. Je n’en comprends pas un mot. Allez vous promener! Bon jour. Lud. Ach so, Sie steigen aus! besser! Guten Tag. Um so A SUGGESTION. WHat shall we do with KRUGER ? What shall we do with PAUL? Then why not boom the old man ‘‘Com”’ At a leading Music Hall? On show he would draw the shilling That heralds the popular star, And if KRtGER were only willing, He might nearly pay for the war,

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PUNCH, ( OR THE L ONDON_ c HARIV ARI. [NovemBER 29, 1899, WU A ET OS I say, BARBAH, WHEN KEN I HEV ‘WELL, Str, I SHOULD PUI * HEAH, careful serutiny). Six Monrus.’ A SHAVE?” IT, THE SUFFERING BISHOP. ({‘* The Bishop of Stepney is reported to have | said that he was the busiest man in London: he prepares his speeches on the tops of omnibuses, composes sermons in trams, and partakes of luncheon in underground trains." —Daily Mail. | FROM morning till evening, from evening to night, I preach and I organise, lecture and write ; And ail over London my gaitered legs fly— Was ever a Bishop so busy as I ? When w riting my sermons, the best of my work ’Il Be done in the trains on the unde circle ; I can write one complete, peroration, Between Charing Cross and the Mansion House Station. rground with a fine For luncheon I swallow a sandwich of ham, As I rush up the steps of a Whitechapel tram ; Or with excellent appetite I will discuss A halfpenny bun on a Waterloo ’bus. | No table is snowy with damask for me: My cloth is the apron that covers my knee. |No manservants serve and no kitchen- maids dish up The fangal sn ci of this Suffrag | ROUGHLY, AT ABOUT an Bishop. LITTLE QUEENIE’S COOKERY FOR CHILDREN. SEKUND PART.—Interduckshin. BOOK THE indused me most relluctinly to do a continuation to it, Papa says are selduin as sucessful as the sequil. But L beleve this one is even better, because it tells you how to make swetes and sirprises and things which you wont find in ordinery books. great poppularitty of the First Part of this work has which PANTIMIME PIE. This is not my own invention, being told me by Cusin BILLy, and I haven't tried it myself yet, but it sounds easy. To do it propperly you must first get cook to let you have the kichen all to yourself. Then take a bath (I don't mene in the bath-room but one of the big round shalow sort). Butter the inside of the bath well. Next roll some paste and line the bath with it, you will want rather a lot. Then look about for meat and things to make the pie of. Fesants and turkies and rabits all go well in this pie and it is holy unesesery to skin them first. For flavering, put in L ham, 1 harth brush, 4 pot best blaking, severil candils, some pikled wallnuts, and 1 cake of stove-pollish. Fill up all the intersities with bloters, add Yorkshire Rellish and Musroom Kitchup to taste, cover in with paste, and set to bake till it leaves off sisling. BILLY has only seen this pie made at Drurey Lane, but he says it can be done just as well at home—only I would rather not have to eat it afterwards myself. DeAR PAPA’S FAVERIT PASTREY. First take a peice of writing paper from Papa's libery table, being careful to sellect only a peice that has been scribled on and is therefore no use to anybody. Turn up the edges so as to form a tray, and thuraly butter the inside. Then fill the tray with paste, and on the paste make a pritty patern with every sort of jam you can proccure. Put on the scoolroom fire and bake till the paper is burnt a luvly brown, when serve. If your Papa, after finishing the pastrey, wunders where he has put that peice of paper that was left on his libery table, you can tell him (being careful to be near the dore at the time) if you like. But I do not reccomend this. How TO MAKE CUNJORER'S CAKE. To do this a Gentelman’s hat is indespensabil. I borowed Father’s—but this is not a very good plan. The best plan is to wait, my brother TOMMY says, till some groanup comes to call on Mother, and then sneke his hat. Having obtaned the hat, thuraly butter the inside as before, break two eggs on rim of hat and put them in, with as much cornflower as will go into a doll’s coleskutle, 2 ounses choped rasins out of the sidebord, lots of oringepeal and the wate of an ege in sooet. Add 1 milk- jugful of rich creme (whenever I say ‘*‘ milkjug,’’ | mene of corse a doll’s milkjug) and stir briskly over the nursery fire for two minnuts. Then, if the cake won’t come out with a chizzle or nurse’s scisors or anything, set to cool in the hall till the groanup goes. He is neally sure not to say anything, even if he nottices. A BREKFUST SIRPRISE FOR UNKLE JOE. Get a hard boyled egg. Peal all the shell off. Then cut off the top and scoup out all the yelow part. Next get two thimbelfulls of that funny blak sporn stuff that comes from Rusha and tastes of tarand seawede. Mix this thuraly with andchufy paste and cayen peper, or (better still) two or three of those hot red things called ‘ chillies,’’ adding butter, two cloves, half a nutmag, and a little ginjer. Then replace top, and serve on toast surounded with parsly. Don’t remain in room after Unkle Joe has begun. This was invented by TOMMY, which was my own idear. AUNTIE WINNIE’S STUFED WALLNUTS. Take two wallnuts and remove the shells, being careful to preserve the interiers intack. Then scrape as much ordinery putty off the windowpains as you can colect, need it into a soft paste and colour it a luvly pink with a few drops of kochineel. Fill up all the cracks in the kurnels with the paste, over which sprinkel a little white suger, and ask Auntie WINNIE if she likes ‘*wallnut fondongs.’’ Then give her them, and go as before. How TO MAKE CHOCLIT SOLJERS. Get some sticks of choclit and melt them down into a lickwid mess. Next take about six of Brother BoBBy’s tin soljers (grinadeers are best) and dip them into the choclit till they are thie ly coted all over. Then sprinkel the soljers all over with ‘Hundreds and Thousins’’ (you know the little weeny culerd swetes I mene), and when your Brother BoB comes in, ask him if he thinks choclit soljers are unholesum. He will say he cannot tell without tasting. Then you let him. Of corse he would be ill if he swalerd one—but he won't. POSECRIP. Since writeing the above, I see that Her Grashus Majisty the QUENE is going to give Crismas presents of choclit to all Her soljers at the war. This choclit will be totuly diferent from mine—because, insted of having soljers inside of it, the soljers | will have it inside of them, which is much more sattisfactry. EPILoG. I might add more, but I have given enough ressipes allredy | to enable any child who wishes to amuse herself and briten the home serkil, so goodbye. From your loving little | QUENIE. not me, all except the parsly,

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Novewser 29, 1899.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARL 257 OUR BOOKING-OFFICE. FRoM the East-end of London to the Desert of Sahara we are | dragged breathless and agape by Mr. MACLAREN COBBAN in his | | latest book, An African Treasure (JOHN LONG). Free fights, darkly insidious plots and counterplots, robberies, captivities, | hairbreadth escapes, alarms and excursions galore. These are his stock-in-trade, and all who love scenes of turbid adventure | will eagerly submit themselves to him and let him make their | | flesh creep with his culminating horrors of the man-eating octopus, and the veiled lepers. ‘‘ Tis a real frisson you give us, Mr. COBBAN,’’ says the Baronitess. What, more fairy stories? Yes; and this time S. BARING-| GOULD is the author. His little book, entitled The Crock of Gold | (METHUEN & Co.)—which clearly ought to have been The Crock | | of Gould—contains no less than twelve delightful fairy tales | | of just the right length to suit those for whom the book was | primarily intended. ; | Most interesting are the odds and ends contained in a volume | entitled Stories from Old-fashioned Children’s Books, brought together and introduced to the reader by ANDREW W. TUER, | | F.S.A. (Leadenhall Press). The 250 illustrations, or rather cuts, | | are wonderfully quaint, all characteristic of the early days of | | our grandfathers and grandmothers, and of their grandparents | before them. Mr. TUER has made a most quaint and interesting| ; | collection, as full of instruction as it isof amusement. It is| iim | indeed ‘‘ Treasure Trove ’’ both for young and old. { Hl Ni | In Ford’s Folly, Limited (MACQUEEN), Major ARTHUR GRIFFITHS We gives us an exciting and clearly told story of crime and its detection. The habitual criminal whose habit of crime fits him so well, that, though disguising it and hiding it as he will, he can never discard it, is a character drawn from the very life. The author treats his villains with a leniency which is some- what disappointing, but he triumphantly extricates his hero and heroine from all their difficulties. Granting that an innocent, devotedly loving young wife | could possibly agree to so glaringly wicked a fraud, when _ proposed by her villain of a husband, as would make both of} Fond Mother (to very busy Brother-in-law). “YoU MIGHT LOOK AFTER them amenable to the criminal law; and further, granting that | Freppy wire I’m ovr. SEE THAT HE DOESN’T PLAY WITH THE the good honest friend of this married couple could lend/ Coats or Grr INTO MISCHIEF, AND, IF HE CRIES, GIVE HIM A PIECE GB. Stamerh~ ay himself to perjury and to the publicity of a sham divorce case, | or CHocOLATE, THERE’S SOME IN THE DINING-ROOM; AND IF THAT | : i a : : then, on the above hypothesis, What a Woman will do (WHITE | DoEsN’r stor HIM, RUN HIM ROUND THE Room oN your BAcK—HE & Co.), by ‘* LUCAS CLEEVE’’ (Mrs. HOWARD KINGSCOTE), is a| Loves 1Tr. Bur, ON NO ACCOUNT LET HIM BE A NUISANCE TO you !” story that, written with a certain dramatic power, rivets the | ——— — | attention and interests the reader up to the very last page. | whilst the sale price is moderate. ,It is only in the reasonable If the hypothesis cannot be granted, there's an end of the| expectation of the book becoming a standard work that the matter, except that the villain and the society solicitor are | prodigious enterprise is justified. THE BARON DE B.-W. interesting modern types. | Ds..ies teu tel i a ls on : ‘ The Elephant’s Apology, by ALICE TALWYN MORRIS (BLACKIE| | ("27 here IS & S18 at mistake in Vol. II., p. 270, of The Life AND SoN), with illustrations by ALICE WOODWARD. This apology, |@"@ Letters of Sir John Everett Millais which my learned and my Baronitess thinks, was necessary; why and wherefore | °S¢tvant Baronite, in his notice last week, failed to correct. remains to be seen by those who read this little story. | Mr. J. G. MILLAIS says therein that Mr. CORBOULD “fell away Peril and Patriotism. (CASSELL & CO.) These two volumes are | tom the Knights of the (Mr. Punch’s) Round Table,” and in a filled with the most thrilling tales of heroic deeds and startling foot-note he adds, Mr. CORBOULD has metal returned to the adventures. Whether the fact of their being true adds to their | fold. _As * matter of fact, Mr. CORBOULD was hever among interest my junior Baronitess is unable to decide. ** the Knights of the Round Table,”’ i.e., Mr. Punch’s Cabinet A Pair of Them, by JANE H. SPETTIGUE (BLACKIE AND Son), will | Council, and therefore could not ‘‘ return to the fold ” to which become very popular with girl- as well as boy-readers. Some | had never belonged. Mr. Punch congratulates himself on of the comical adventures of these two youths end rather | having been always able to avail himself of the talent of so seriously ; which is a pity. admirable a draughtsman, and he cannot understand how it was Wine on the Lees (HUTCHINSON) is more accurately beer in that Du MAURIER did net sneceed in making clear to MILLAIs quart pots and “goes” of whisky incessant. The point of the distinction between drawing for Mr. Punch”’ and *‘ being the story is that the son of a great brewer visiting the East-|* ™ember of Mr. Punch’s staff. end of — in order to see for himself how the potent | _ paternal agency works, is so conscience-stricken that he “am . . 7 , TED resolves to sell (at market price) his interest in the concern. | QUEL PERSIFLAGE! QUEL BADINAGE! My Baronite admits the moral is good. But the ground to be| HAVEN'T we had enough of Judge Bacon, his Court, and the worked successfully requires a rare genius and—Mr. STEUART | Sparkling wit that illumines it from the Bench? Nearly every has not succeeded. day some of the papers, the Daily News being the most per- There is, to my Baronite, something almost appalling in the | sistent offender, prominently prints verbatim reports of conver- rangeand thecompleteness of The International Geography. edited sation between the Judge and some hapless plaintiff or defendant by HucH RosBertT MILL, published by GEORGE NEWNES. Includ-| who is made the cheap target for the shafts of his humour. ing an invaluable index, the volume extends to nearly eleven | Space is too valuable to permit demonstration by quotation. It hundred pages of clear type, illustrated with maps, which, for must suffice to aver that Judge Bacon’s wit falls far below the their necessarily small scale, are marvels of clearly conveyed average level of the kind that in Judicial Courts conyulses the information. The modest object of the work is to tell the usher. Let the Daily News save its Bacon and the patience of reader all about the many countries of the world. Each | its readers. is separately described, not only from a geographical point of view, but in relation to the race, language, history, and mode SUITABLE Spots.—Gainsborough—for greedy tradesmen ; Gnos- of government of its people, its manufactories, industries, and | all—for wiseacres ; Gravesend—for sextons ; Great Barr—for external trade, and its political division. Seventy authors, | constant topers; Grind-on—for crammers; Halt-whistle—for each an authority in his particular field, have been mustered | football umpires; Hastings—for wasps; Hawkshead—for fal- for the work. The cost of production must be enormous, | coners ; Honi-ton—for busy bees; Hoot-on—for owls.

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} PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [NovemBer 29, 1899, Jones. ** 1 wish, MY *D LET ME rHE OTHER DAY.” Mrs. Jones. *‘ WHY, OF COURSE your Srupy-TABLE—SsHALL I? **No, DON’T rHAT. DEAR, YOU Jones. Review.” THE MARKET IN MINOR POETRY. I HEAR the Special’s horrid din; The buttons strain that bind my vest, | So strong a swelling takes me in The chest. Nay, Sir, ’tis not that I rebel Against the martial point of view ; I would, if wanted, fight as well As you. Hunger of battle holds my maw ; At any military sound My lusty carpet-slippers paw The ground. | I think I might have held a fort, Or been an armoured railway-guard ; Instead of which 1 am a sort Of bard. DEAR. I JUST BRING /} U1 ODI. ) / , V}, ‘ 4 WY Ul 4, = HAVE ONE OF THOSE PHOTOS YoU HAD TAKEN ‘LL pUT ONE IN A FRAME, AND SET IT ON Ir TO ME Hence these regrets ; my.trade is gone ; Nobody shews the least desire For little things performed upon The lyre. Poor was the pay for poet-dreams Even in piping times of peace; , And now it altogether seems To cease. Cropped tresses crown the warrior’s mien ; Khaki is now your only wear ; There is a slump in velveteen And hair. 'Tis held that heroes walked the earth Prior to AGAMEMNON’S times, Who suffered from a sorry dearth Of rhymes. | To-day things are not what they were: Our leading poets make it plain That such neglect shall not occur Again. TYRT#I of the Music Halls, | Nightly their clarion notes are heard ; The pit is melted and the stalls Are stirred. I mark without a grudging groan The mightier pen assist the sword; | And virtue rich in virtue’s own Reward. | The cause, the cause is all their care; For this alone they fling their bait ; | (I know that I should want to share The gate !)— | l see the shower of shekels fly ; I envy not the praise they win ; 3ut where does Art, and where do I Come in? | This is the fiery thought that burns Holes in my bosom—what about | My tasty trifle, ‘‘ Blue Nocturnes,”’ Just out? | After yon gaudy kind of ware, How should the public pay my price | For verse that breathes a subtle air Of spice ? | | Drunk with a wild debauch of war, Dazed by the canard’s windy flight, | What should they care for sweetness or For light ? | | view my vista blank and bald With no immediate hopes to hug | Since on the market [ am called } A drug. | How did the Troubadour behave He gaily sprang, the gallant brave, To arms! | When clashiof steel eclipsed his charms? | | | ! | A charger, ho! I’ll gird my loins | And figure in the warlike news :— ‘Latest! A minor poet joins | The Blues! ”’ | First Horse. Have you heard the news? Second Horse. No, what? Going to be |a strike ? First Horse. Worse than that! You and | will have to go, and so will my brother, who has been drawing a wagon for the | last ten years. | Second Horse. No! You don't say so! | First Horse. Yes, and Jenkins, who helps | to take round the bread, and Tommy, who [ WANT If TO CUT THIS | belongs to the butchers. Second Horse. But what do they want =|with us? I thought they drew the line at | | those low animals harnessed to the ’buses. First Horse. Oh, we are not going with them! I daresay it won’t be half bad fun! The brewers’ set are to come, and so are ——_ | | | the millers’. Thenall the carrier carts are | | to send a contingent. Second Horse. Anything more ? First Horse. Well, the provincial cas | may have to be replaced by motors, to |release our country cousins. It may be | difficult to deal with the bathing interest, | scattered in mid-winter. But all that can | be done will be accomplished. | Second Horse. But what does it all mean? | First Horse. What does it all mean? ‘Why, they are going to embody the yeomanry ! [The news laughter. received with horse Curtain. is

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.—Novemper 29, 1899,

iN uN / nis Ys Wi) YM, ADVANCING. \ — ‘) ih Wy Sh SN MAY) Vos < \

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NoveMBER 29, 1899.] ——— PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 261 4 WY, Hf) Yf Yi] /, \ “CAN'T HELP IT. Docror’s ORDERS. “THE HOPE OF THE STRAND.”’ Shakspeare. No theatre-goer capable of appreciating genuine comedy-acting should lose the present opportunity of seeing Mr. THOMAS A. WISE, as Singleton Sites, in the brisk American farce, entitled The Wrong Mr. Wright, now playing at the Strand. It would be invidious to mention names, but [ can only compare him with one great comedian (who is not COQUELIN) on the French stage, and with another, whose merits are not so universally recognised as they should be, on the English stage. Mr. WISE, who is both ‘‘ merry and wise,’’ reminds me of M. Got. His Singleton Sites shows him to be a consummate master of his art, and he lifts Mr. BROADHURST’S farce—for it professes to be no more— into the realm of comedy. The piece affords scope for some excellent | character-acting, and Mr. GEORGESHELTON, “HULLOAH, MY Boy, YoU HAVE BEEN PUTTING ON WEIGHT!” Saip I was ONLY TO DRINK AT MEALS. EAT SUCH A DOOCE OF A LOT OF MEALS, DON’T You KNow !” Gor To as Wayland Clingstone, Miss ROBERTHA ERSKINE as his sister, Mr. FARREN SOUTAR as Lieut. Crosby, and Mr. SAM SOTHERN as the eccentric Belmont Stuyvesant, make the most of their chances. Master HARRY RIGNOLD is capital as the hotel page-boy. Miss DECIMA MOORE gets a hearty encore for her sprightly dance, and Miss HELEN MACBETH probably gets more out of Miss Ethel Bonds, the heiress, than the author ever put into the character. The earnest purpose of Miss CONSTANCE COLLIER as Henrietta Oliver, female detective, gives the finishing touch to the piece, and, indeed, without thi$ the acting of Mr. WISE would be comparatively wasted. Miss COLLIER’S intensity makes her sudden love for the middle-aged, jolly-visaged gentleman possible to the audience. It is a triumph for both artistes. Certainly The Wrong Mr. Wright is a piece which those who ‘ exercise A Wise discretion ’’ will see as soon as possible. NOTHING BUT SMOKE. ‘*A PRACTICAL MAN” writes, DEAR MR. PuNCcH,—I know you will sympathise in the crusade headed by'Sir WILLIAM RICHMOND against the smoke nuisance. According to experts, the mischief is attributable to low-level infringers of the law, rather than to lofty: chimneys. Therefore,— 1. Potato-cans and street stoves for the cooking of chestnuts to be fed with coke or electricity. 2. Tripods burning coals, and used for night-watchers over street improvements, to be abolished, and the workmen to be supplied with fur-lined gloves and over- coats at the expense of the L. C. C. 3. All fireplaces in artizans’ lodging- houses and flats to be taken out, and hot- water pipes to be erected in their stead. This would be a great boon to the poor after the original cost had beeri negotiated. 4. All mansions, houses, and out-build- ings containing coal consumers to be altered (at their occupiers’ expense), so that my patent ‘‘ Pure Air Heat Producer’’ might be built in where necessary. With these simple regulations to assist him, Sir WILLIAM RICHMOND and his col- leagues should make London the pleasantest city imaginable. Still another suggestion. Most people nowadays are fond of tobacco. Why not make those devoted to the weed nicotine | consume their own smoke ? MR. PUNCH’S MUSEUM. S ZB o z i) 0 at Tue De Brers’ Jvc. A rare example of an IMPERIAL QuARTZ Port; Rhodesian Ware; Old English Design. A valuable piece; sold in 1895 by a well-known physician. £500 has been offered in vain, lately, for it by an eager Transvaal collector. On loan to Kimberley Museum, where it holds diamonds.

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262 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHAR IVARL [ NovEMBER 29, 1899, THE LATEST PIECE OF FRENCH INTELLIGENCE. LES “'ICLANDEURS” ! sRITISH AGENTS HAVE BEEN BUSILY ENLIsT- THEY HAVE BEEN IMMEDIATELY Tue FRENCH PRESS HAS ANNOUNCED THAT ‘* ING RETIRED FRENCH SOLDIERS FOR THE ScorrisH REGIMENTS. AND FORWARDED To SouTH PUT INTO THE KIL1 FROM A BACHELOR UNCLE’S DIARY. My sister CONSTANCE really very incon- | siderate. Writes, ‘‘Can you take the dear boys, MAX and TomMy, just for a short time, as something has broken out at the school?’’ What, or who has ‘‘ broken out,’’ I wonder? Wish people would be more explicit. So perplexing. She dares not have the boys home, ** because of baby.”’ Why ‘ because of baby’’? ‘* Baby might eatch it.’’ Catch what? Why will my | relatives always worry me by their in- | give | at all, to her, but must do it. exactitude? So wearing. Suppose I must have these dreadful children, but dare not my esteemed housekeeper, Mrs. BOTHERTON, a hint of ‘‘ anything catching,”’ as she would phrase it. Feel rather nervous at breaking news of their coming Shall have to make her small present at same time, by way of propitiation for what she calls ** being put out.’’ Old servants so nice but just alittle tyrannical. Ah me! life is @ weariness when one is bothered. So sad. What’s this? Letter from that da— dear boy MAX himself. DEAR UNCLE CHARLEY,—Wont it be fun weere coming to stay with you, me and STINKER Ime so joly glad weeve got Searlid feaver at leest theres an epidamit of Searlid feaver about so weere breaking up long before the time hooray, fancy BATSON minor who swots orfly hard and gets prizes and orl that rot, side hevily wen he herd we wear going home but ass hes only a littul feller of coarse he got his hed joly well smakt. I tell you what weel do weel akt sharards at your house their orfly fine we akt a word and the others gess it you must have a party one night and weel do sharards and orlso a 1 akt Tradjedy or Melon-dramer witch I rote myself. JONES Major red it and sed yes Arrica”! it looks as if sumbody rote it himself and | We orlways | then he sneard hes an ass. enjoy being with you becos it orlways chears you up and orlso becos you orlways have lots of sossidges and joly things for brekfust and we can get some riding on your horses and weere mad on akting jest now too oh it ‘ll be orfly fine only you must let me bring poor old Boots to stay becos hes the villian in my Melon-dramer you shood jest heer him do the What ho with- out there! sort of thing oh hes splendid weel come by morning train tomorrer. Your affeeshunt MAX. All this is very horrible. Isee no escape. Never could say No and stick to it. Know 1 shall be miserable. Let in, too, for evening party to witness ‘ Sharards.’’ Ye gods! what will the ‘*‘ Melon-dramer’’ be like! Hate parties and hate charades. Shall have to convert house, first, into | Quarantine Hospital and then theatre. So miserable. Why am I thus tormented ? Simply because I’m a bachelor, I suppose. So upsetting. Must have pint of the very dry champagne to-night, or better still, | bottle of ‘‘ the’’ Chambertin, to fit me for coming ordeal. L’ENFANT TERRIBLE. (‘A member of the Free Church Congress pro- tests hotly against the Sabbath-breaking seller of toffee and jujubes. The children buy sweets and come to the Sunday-school.”—Glasgow Herald. ] HECcH, Sirs! The bairns An’ their concairns— Were ever sic-like doin’s, Sic awfu’ creeminality, Sic unabashed rascality, Reducin’ their morality Tae ruins? | Is naethin’ sacred ? Na, they scorn |The holiness o’ Sabbath morn, | An’ wee bit things that scarce can rin Are auld in sin; | An’ while the vara bells are ringin’, | An’ honest folk their psalms are singin’, | | The Sabbath breakers flee awa’ | Tae sweetie shops, | An’ squander a’ their bawbees braw On sugar-stick an’ brandy ba’, On liquorice an’ sticky jaw An’ toffee drops— Bawbees wha’s only fit direction | | Would be the meenister’s collection, | An’ when tae Sabbath schule they win, | An’ bring abominations in, Wi’ streakit cheeks an’ sticky gairments— | The wee bit vairments !— Hoo can a body teach them, eh ? In vain I preach, in vain I pray, They hae nae thocht o’ what I’m doin’, | Their hairts are hard ’s the rock they 're | chewin’, zi | An’, far frae listenin’ whiles I pour | The words 0’ wisdom oot, they snore. Hech, Sirs! Sic times O’ youthfu’ crimes An’ infant prodigality ! I’m wae, for oo! When bairns will chew Like you, adieu Morality ! | | THE LATEST CRAZE. ScENE—The Drawing-rooms of No. 1 and No. 2, Upperten Mansions, S.W. First Lady (entering). Herel am! Iam | sure you won’t guess wholam. See, the | American Banner and the Union Jack. 1| represent Under Two Flags. First Hostess. Oh, how clever! But we | shall have Mr. SMITH here presently, and he is sure to come in something quite new. Second Lady (entering). Herelam. Now you will never know what book I represent. Stars and Stripes on one shoulder, the | white ensign on the other! Under Two | Flags. Eh? | First Hostess. Wonderful! have Mr. SMITH here by and by. | Sure to amuse us. Third Lady (entering). I promised to come and hereI am. The Star Spangled Banner and our own Royal Standard. Under Two Flags. There, isn’t it good. First Hostess. Quite too good! So pleased you have come. We are waiting for Mr. SMITH. He’s sure to make us all laugh, as he’s so original! Fourth Lady. Up to my time! And I have come as a well-known book. See, a dear little American banner on one side of my head, and a weeny, weeny Union Jack on the other. Under Two Flags. I thought I would surprise you! First Hostess. I knew you would. Mr. SMITH is coming! He ’s sure to be funny. Mr. Smith (entering). Now you must guess. I won’t take off my cloak until I have shown you these two dolls. Here | they are, soldiers of the time of Louts XIV. | And now you shall see me. (Throws off his | cloak and appears in gorgeous costume.) 1 represent, with the help of my companions, | The Three Musketeers. : Second Hostess (rigidly). I think there is |some mistake. This is a meeting of the Distressed Charwomen’s Food Fund Asso- ciation. I think you must have wanted to attend my neighbour next door’s Book Tea. Mr. Smith (hastily resuming his cloak). We shall He is | Oh, I beg your’pardon. [Exit in confusion.

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nt. wo all to ed rd. So ng all LI a ck ht Ir. ist lI sre his ns, is ——— NovemBer 29, 1899.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. AN ORNAMENT OF THE TEMPLE. | The President of the Orange Free State was called to the Bar by the Honourable Society of the | Inner Temple seventeen years ago. “STEYN, dverinvs TREUNIS. I. 17 Nov. 1882.” —Law List.) ONE member of the English Bar, In courage though no lacking, Has not applied for silk, so far— He might be given sacking ! One member of the English Bar Can fight, and does not shirk it— He is, as many counsel are, Just now away on circuit. One member of the English Bar, | Let me repeat, in fact, is On circuit—Ladysmith to De Aar— | Where many big guns practise. One member of the English Bar (So think that Bar’s majority) May find the Court inclined to mar His ‘‘ little brief authority.’’ | | One member of the English Bar ’Gainst England warfare wages ; The Law List has—I go so far— (What though my cockney accent jar ?) A stain upon its pages ! | | DEJEUNERS AND DEJEUNERATES. } (Afte y—and before—“* Dinners and Diners.) | CERTAINLY it was startling. Only a | week ago 1 heard that my best of pals, | PEBBLER STONIE, was away shooting. | Imagine, then, my surprise at receiving a brief and breezy note announcing his re- | turn, and, with characteristic hospitality, positively insisting upon having my com- pany for lunch that very day. I glanced at | my list of engagements and discovered that Iwas due ata ducal residence at 1 P.M., that | an hour later I had promised to give déjeu- | ner toa charming Princess at POLONI’s, and | that at three o’clock I was to play billiards | with a beautiful Baroness. ‘‘ Fifty minutes of Stonigz,’’ I reflected, as I hurriedly | dashed off fibbing excuses, *‘is worth a | | eyele of all these.’’ I vaulted on to the roof of an omnibus and was soon ascending | the staircase leading to STONIE’S artistic | |mansarde au sixieéme in the purlieus of | | Putney. “I’ve not brought you here to talk business,’’ said my genial friend. ‘‘ Now, you who understand these things so well, | tell me—where shall we go for our ‘ break- fast at the fork’?’’ His fondness for food that is at once ‘‘fit and fair and simple and sufficient ’’ (as BROWNING beautifully puts it) brought vividly to my mind the fact that, not a hundred miles from | Piccadilly Circus, a celebrated restaurant |issituated. Thither we hied; and, at the | Suggestion of M. BILLSMIT—the capable | and courteous maitre d’hétel,—this was the menu decided upon by STONIE: Pensées d’Hors d’(uvres. Consommé Beau Vril. Cufs Pochés au Jambon. Saucissons de Vall. Patés de Viande. Gateau Lourd & la Stodjé. Café Brun Tiéde. | In the matter of wines, STONIE was | Wise enough to act on my advice, and | ordered Chiéteau Tamise, °99, for which these cellars are famous. The place was filled with popular folk— | the Same crowd, in effect, that one en- | \W 1 48 Qo Or) 4 Ui ¢ Muriel. THING FOR THE CAUSE.” Agnes. ‘‘OH, YES, WE’RE JUST THE SAME, AND Navy Stores now!” ** EVERY ONE IS SO PATRIOTIC NOW. as ty ' 4 7 Ae, AT HOME WE ARE ALL DYING TO DO SOME- MAMMA GETS EVERYTHING FROM THE ARMY counters at Covent Garden in, and out of, | the season. But,alas! As we sat in silent contemplation of the scene, and lazily | smoking our fragrant caporal cigarettes, | there occurred just the one jarring note | that destroyed the harmony of the whole | picture. (After lunch I usually mix my metaphors like this.) She was a brunette, | and evidently Castilian—for one of her | attendant cavaliers was overheard to| allude to her as the ‘‘ Dofia.’’ She was lovely, no doubt; but on her ‘‘ ebon locks ”’ she bore an immense atrocity of straw and | feathers, upon which yellow, red, and | green struggled for supremacy! That hat was to us the beetle in the milk, the hare | in the jug. ‘‘How could she do it?’’ said STONIE with a snort. Then he paid the bill: —Couverts, 0; Hors d’(uvres, 0; Potage, 3d.; Cufs, 8d.; Saucissons, 4d. ; Patés, 3d.; Gateau, 1d. ; Café, 1d.; Vins, 0; total, 1s. 8d. TO PHYLLIS, WHO HAS WRITTEN A BOOK. YOU assure me, PHYLLIS dear, That the truth you want to hear When your book you deign to show me Timidly, because you know me To have taste (you kindly say) In the literary way. PHYLLIS, but I hesitate Your much cherished ‘‘ work ’’ to slate, And to hint, with blush and stammer, Of its faults of style and grammar, Lest I should, if truth I tell, Lose my pains, and you as well. Undecided then I stand, When the truth you thus demand, Both reluctant to obey you And unable to gainsay you; Yes, the truth, then, you shall hear— That I love you, PHYLLIS dear.

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [Novemprr 29, 1899 SS who have yielded, men who were thought, if I may so Speak of their minds and consciences, to be muscular until they proved themselves to be merely molluscous, and who are now Sailing serenely on witha full wind of popular approval bellying their sails. You, however, withstood; you have not forsaken the band of your devoted adherents, and, reviled though you may be, you still remain, even in your seeming isolation, one of the strongest influences in the public life of our country. For that country your affection is said by your critics to be lukewarm. The statement is an incredible and an impossible one, and, indeed, it is not improbable that those who glibly make it know it to be so. True it is that you are not of those who swagger and bluster and rave about the self-evident might power, dominion, and majesty of the Empire ; who exalt in noisy dithyrambies the man in uniform, conceiving this apparently to be the sole reason for his life, that he should spend it without complaint in wasting the universe with fire and sword, while they themselves stay behind and do the shouting. Boastful as these men are of their strength, they yet tremble, like guilty things afraid, at their own nightmare visions of alliances and conspiracies to do their country harm, and turn with alacrity from the celebration of their own matchless courage to the con- genial task of fawning upon some foreign potentate, who, to gain his own ends, may have shown them a transitory mark of interested friendship. For these you have small sympathy, for you control your view of public affairs by the spirit of austerity that rules your private life. Others may toss indiscriminating caps in the air, and shout hosannahs when men go forth to war. You still require to be convinced that the war is for a just anda necessary cause, that your country is not merely at war, but also in the right. But of all the host who have been lately shouting — shame on you, there are but few who realise, as you do, the You ARE REALLY ANXIovs To Go To Sovrn AFRICA To NuURsE| greatness and strength of Britain, or the high mission that is rue Sick AND Wounpep? Bur. My DEAR Youne Lapy, HAVE you | laid upon her rulers. You who have steeped yourself in the trim Actin ANY EXPERIENCE IN NURSING THE SICK AND WouNDED ?” thoughts of EDMUND BURKE, were never likely to fail of the true “Raraer! Four or my Broruers pLay INTERNATIONAL Foor- | patriotic ardour, although with BURKE you may deny that kings BALL, AND MY FATHER TOOK Up CYCLING AT SEVENTY-SIX !” and governors, and statesmen, and writers, must necessarily be — - right because they happen to be officials, and to shout, as they declare, for their country. You are, in fact, one of the inheritors LETTERS TO THE CELEBRATED. of the great whig tradition, and those who most ae respect you, look to you to maintain and enforce it. ; s ; ; Z Your countrymen, Sir, have a way of looking askance at To THe Rint HON. JouN MorLEy, M.P. clever men; they suspect those when they dub phitemaben, Sir,—It is with no ordinary sense of pleasure that I address | and, though they lay claim to a distant respect for men who you. Earnest, sober, dignified, a man of letters and a statesman, | write, they do not usually follow them eagerly when they turn once immersed and destined, it may be, to be immersed again in | from letters to public life. These suspicions, natural to a blunt, the turbulent vortex of the world’s affairs, you yet stand apart, | beef-eating race of men, firm in will and strong in body, may a lonely and attractive figure, from the trivialities, the mean | yet be overcome. You, I think, have overcome them by the desires, the paltry jealousies and the petty strivings that make | manifest sincerity of your life. You are not known to be a up so large a part of the sum of the daily lives of men. The | sportsman, you are not even supposed to love golf. pageant of the roaring world, the tramp of armed hosts with Sir, we are living in times that make effort necessary. Not their blare of trumpets, the shoutings of the captains and the| by an otiose assent to the passions of the moment was this thunder of the guns draw you not away from your contemplation | country made great and powerful, but by the clash of contend- and cannot disturb your judgment. Not for you are the deafen- | ing theories, and through the resolute assertion by high-minded ing eries of the hucksters in the market. You are not dazzled men of doctrines for which they were ready, if necessary, to by glittering visions of wealth, nor is your mind bewrayed by | lay down their lives. Our days require no such material sacri- wily schemers who for self-interest affect a momentary patriotism, | fice, but the same kind of work must still be done in much the and are prepared to wade through blood and ruin to their own |same way. When you shall have completed the literary labour advancement. Calm and self-contained, you watch the tumult |on which you are now engaged, we look to you to step into the and judge the leaders of the crowd, content to find in a rigid | front rank, and to take your proper place in the political battle. and incorruptible adherence to principle a solace which the | Your countrymen may neither agree with nor applaud some of angry reproaches of many amongst your fellow-men would too | the thoughts that you will express to them. But it is good that (By Mr. Punch’s Vagrant.) often deny. they should listen to you and ponder the frequent words of a And yet, since temptation comes to all strong natures, it must | man so earnest, so fearless, and so sincere. have come to you. How easy it would have been to join the I am, Sir, your faithful Servant, THE VAGRANT. throng and be carried with it. The way was smooth, the — rewards for treading it were ready. You would have been : hailed as ‘‘ patriot’? and “true statesman’? by many loud, THE LATEST ANGLO-SAXON.—Mr. Punch has_ to congratulate voices in the press and on the platform; you might have basked | Lady RANDOLPH CHURCHILL on the second volume of The in the sun of ducal favour, and revelled in the approving smiles | Anglo - Saxon Review (JOHN LANE), which appeared rather of gilded financiers; men who make empires by exploiting late, he fancies, though dated September. It may, however, mines, and use shareholders as other men use beasts of burden, |have escaped Mr. Punch’s eagle eye. The _ illustrations, would have been glad to grasp the hand of a man whose noted | especially the portrait of Queen ELIZABETH, by FREDERIGO honesty they might have used as a mask for base designs; and | ZUCCARO, which, used here as frontispiece, was recovered in the Habitations of Leagues your example would have been | years ago in the Royal Palace at Siena in Tuscany (** rich held up as glorious to knights harbingers and dames. All this|and rare, but how the deuce did it get there?’’), are all and more you might have had if only you could have consented | excellent, with the exception of GORDON CRAIG’S scramble-dab of to be for a space not JOHN MORLEY, but some other man. Sir HENRY IRVING in a “‘ shocking bad hat,’’ supposed to be the I do not propose, Sir, to offend you by congratulating you on | eminent actor impersonating Bill Sikes; but as much like Bill not having yielded to such temptations. In the form in which | Sikes of DICKENS as is Mr. CRAIG to Hercules. Mr. L. F. AUSTIN 8 I have described them they lack perhaps the element of | article on [RVING is not exhaustive : he omits his ** Jingle,”’ one attractiveness which | understand to be essential to a properly | of the best impersonations ever given by Sir HENRY, except the conducted, self-respecting temptation. But there are others | “little cheque ’’ man in ALBERY'S Two Roses. ———a—