    The Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 98,
    January 18, 1890, by Various

    This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
    almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
    re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
    with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org

    Title: Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 98, January 18, 1890

    Author: Various

    Editor: Francis Burnand

    Release Date: May 23, 2007 [EBook #21590]

    Language: English

    Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1

    *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH ***

    Produced by V. L. Simpson, Malcolm Farmer and the Online
    Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net

# PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

## VOL. 98.

## January 18th, 1890.

[Pg. 25]

## AMONG THE AMATEURS.

### No. III.—REALISATION.

> Scene—Theatre Royal, Blankbury, on the first night of the performance of the well-known Comedy of "Heads or Tails?" by the "Thespian Perambulators." Time, 7:50 P.M. A "brilliant and fashionable assemblage" is gradually filling the house. In the Stalls are many distinguished Amateurs of both Sexes, including Lady Surbiton, who has brought her husband and Mrs. Gagmore (Lady Surbiton's particular friend). The rest of the Stalls are occupied by the immediate friends and relations of the Actors. A few professional Critics are to be seen. They are addressed with much politeness by the Amateurs in front of the House, and "played to" with feverish anxiety by the Amateurs on the Stage. The Orchestra is composed of excellent Amateur Musicians. The Curtain has not yet risen.

Lady Surbiton (to Mrs. Gagmore). My dear, it's a wonder we ever got here. Charles of course forgot the date, and told me only yesterday he'd invited some men to stay for a shoot. He had to listen to reason, though, and so we spent all yesterday sending telegrams to put them off. I've been at every performance of The Thespians for years, and it wouldn't do to begin missing them now, would it?

Mrs. Gagmore. Certainly not, dear, it would have been quite a calamity. There's the Duchess of Middlesex nodding to you.

Lady S. So it is. (Smiles sweetly at the Duchess, who is sitting three rows off.) I call it scandalous of her to come out like this when both her twins have got the measles. Did I tell you I lent Mr. Spinks my pet parrot, Penelope, for this performance?

Mrs. G. No, dear. I didn't know they ever played it with a parrot.

Lady S. Well, they don't usually, but Mr. Spinks told me that, after studying the piece very very carefully, he had come to the conclusion that there ought to be a parrot in Lady Shorthorn's drawing-room, and he begged me to lend him mine. Fortunately it scarcely ever talks. Oh, there's Mr. Penfold! How old he's getting to look. He never seems to have a good word to say for anyone in his critiques. They're very late in beginning. I hope nothing has happened to Penelope. Ah! at last.

> The Orchestra strikes up. After a few minutes the Curtain rises on "the Drawing-room at Bullivant Court." Sc. 1, Act 1. Harry Hall, in livery as John the Footman, is reclining on a sofa, reading a magazine. Penelope, in her cage, is a conspicuous object on the O.P. side.

John (yawning). "Nothink in the Fortnightly, as per usual. Heigh-ho! This is slow work. Who's that?"

> Enter Belinda, the Nursery-maid. The usual amatory scene follows. They both disappear, as Tiffington Spinks enters made up as "Colonel Debenham," with a saffron complexion, a grey moustache, a red tie and an iron-grey wig. He shivers. A great deal of preliminary applause. He bows with dignity, conscious of his fame, and proceeds.

Col. Debenham. "Ugh! how horribly cold this is. I shall have to speak seriously to Shorthorn about the state of his fires."

Penelope the Parrot (suddenly and with terrible distinctness). "Old fool!" [A titter from the irreverent. Spinks pays no heed to the interruption.

Lady Surbiton. How awful! I declare I haven't heard Penelope speak for six months. I hope to heaven she won't do it again.

Mrs. Gagmore. I thought it sounded so natural.

Lord S. So it did, that's why it was so out of place. He's getting on all right now, though.

Col. Debenham (concluding a peppery soliloquy). "And as for Lady Shorthorn and that spiteful cat of a sister of hers, all I can say of Tom Debenham is——"

Penelope (loudly). "Old fool!"

> [Whistles up and down the scale. Much laughter. Spinks feels that violent measures are necessary if the piece is not to be utterly ruined. He perceives Jarp standing at the wings made up as Binns the Butler. A happy thought flashes on him. He nods meaningly at Jarp.

Col. Debenham (improvising gag). "Oh, confound that bird! I must have it removed. I'll ring for the butler."

> [Rings. Enter Jarp as Binns.

Binns. "'Er Ladyship's compliments, Colonel Debenham, and she would like——"

Spinks (in a whisper of concentrated fury to Jarp). Not yet; take that infernal parrot away, quick!

Jarp (loses his head; still the Butler is strong within him). "'Er Ladyship is served!"

Spinks (aloud). "Oh, nonsense—nonsense, man! You're an idiot. Here, take this bird, and kill it!"

> [Seizes cage, thrusts it into the flustered Jarp's arms, and pushes him off, the Parrot, horribly frightened, yelling, "Old fool!"

Lady Surbiton. How dare he speak of Penelope in that way? Kill her! If Mr. Jarp so much as lays a finger upon her——

Lord S. She'll bite him. Oh, you may make your mind quite easy about that parrot. She's bitten every finger of mine to the bone, and I'm certain she's quite equal to defending herself against Jarp.

> The Act proceeds without any further hitch, until Belinda wheels on her double perambulator containing two red-headed infants, one of whom is terrified into tears and calls for "Father!" in a shrill voice. After this everything, however, goes well, and the Curtain falls amidst thunders of applause.

Behind the Curtain.

Spinks. Yes, Gushby, I believe you did it. You were closeted with that parrot for an hour yesterday. I believe you deliberately taught it to say that, in order to crab my part. What's more, I'm certain of it, for I distinctly recognised your voice in the parrot's.

Gushby. Pooh! nonsense! If I had taught it to say anything, it would have been something worse than that, you may be sure.

Spinks. You always were kind. As for Jarp, he was in the plot. Otherwise do you think any man could have made such a fool of himself?

In Front of the Curtain.

Lady Surbiton. That's what I've always said. There's so much esprit de corps and good feeling amongst Amateurs—none of that wretched jealousy and bickering which ruins professionals.

Mrs. Gagmore. It is delightful to listen to them, certainly. They all look and act like perfect gentlemen. All Mr. Jarp's Butlers are splendid. You can see at a glance that they have only been with good families.

Behind the Curtain.

Hon. B. Boldero. I fancy we shall have good notices to-morrow in the Morning Moonbeam. I saw Penfold laughing immensely.

Spinks (down on his luck). Did you? (Plucking up a bit.) Well, it "went" capitally. It was only that blessed parrot.

> [Goes off intending to buy several copies of next morning's "Moonbeam."

In Front of the Curtain.

Mr. Penfold (to his neighbour, a brother journalist): Are you going to write anything about this? I have got to do a short notice for the Morning Moonbeam. It's no use abusing these fellows. That's been tried. I'll give them a little butter this time, and see whether that won't stop them. How would it do to say something like this?—"We advise the Thespians to keep clear as much as they can of professionalism. Of course, tradition demands that the ladies' parts should be played by professionals, but the introduction of a professional parrot and a professional baby in the First Act was a mistake, which might have ruined the performance."

> [His Friend nods approval. Exeunt severally. Imagine tableau next day. Delight of Amateurs on reading the notice of their performance in the "Moonbeam."

## HOLIDAY CATECHISM.

Mr. P. Now little Master Jack Horner, from your corner in Drury Lane, what plums do you pick out of the Pantomime?

Master J. H. The Hansom Cab and King Harry (Nicholls) returning home confronted by the Queen, then the Griffiths Cow, the Giant's Dinner and his Servants, and the Dame Leno's wonderful Fowl.

Mr. P. What else?

Master J. H. Lots of things, but at the Circus at Covent Garden, the Shetland Ponies lovely. They come first, so you must be early.

Mr. P. Did you see anything else that pleased you?

Master J. H. I should think so. Such a game! Mlle. Gou-Gou quite shocked my little sister Polly, by her strange conduct. But when it turned out that he was a man, how we laughed! It was funny.

Mr. P. And I suppose you stayed for the Lion?

Master J. H. You may be sure we did! Polly was a little frightened at first; but when we found that the Royal Dane Boarhound and the Horse didn't mind him a bit, why we didn't mind either. Isn't it wonderful? Oh, you ought to go and see them. They are prime!

Barnum's Motto.—"Tout à fait La Shows."

[Pg. 26]

## MUZZLED AND PUZZLED; OR, "LOVE ME, LOVE MY DOG."

(A Carol of Kentish Conservatism. Some way after Goldsmith.)

Good Tories all, of County Kent,
Give ear unto my song,
And spare your puerile intent
To do your Party wrong.

* * * *

There was a mighty Minister,
To power appointed late;
A virtuous and valiant Vir,
A Pillar of the State.
If one who doth fat oxen drive
Should in himself be fat,
This Minister seemed bound to thrive
As to his post most pat.
A more bucolic personage
Bucolics never sang;
And when he took that post and wage,
All round his praises rang.
O'er Agriculture to preside,
Chaplin was surely born;
He bore his honours with the pride
Of Chanticleer at morn.
In Kent there were some Tories found,
For Tories still there be;
In fact, the species doth abound
In spite of W. G.
Chaplin and they at first were friends,
But when a feud began
They—whom a little thing offends—
Rounded on that good man.
The motto of these Men of Kent
Was, "Love me, love my Dog;"
And soon with angry discontent
The County was agog.
For Chaplin—it was like his cheek,
Cockiest of Ministers!—
Quite supererogant, did seek
To muzzle Kentish Curs!
Around to all the counties near
An angry protest ran;
To touch a Kentish dog, 'tis clear,
Touches a Kentish Man.

[Pg. 27]

Fanatic lovers of the hound
Scorn hygienic laws,
And though their dogs should snap all round
You must not bind their jaws.
Restraint appeared both sore and sad
To every Kentish eye,
And, whilst they swore the Man was mad,
They swore the Dogs would die.
Nay, more, there came this fearsome threat
From true-blue Tory throats:
"With muzzles if our dogs you fret,
You shall not have our votes!"
O patriots true! Rads grin with glee!
The puzzle Chaplin fogs;
'Tis plain that Party loyalty
Is going to the dogs!
Kent's choice 'twixt Party seems, and pup,
The question stirs the town,
Whether the Tories will give up,
Or Chaplin will climb down!

### STUDIES IN REPARTEE.

Heavyside (Author of "Epaminondas" and other unread Epics). "By the bye, how much do you weigh, Binks?"

Little Binks. "Fourteen Stone!"

Heavyside. "Dear me! You don't look very Big, to weigh all that!"

Little Binks. "'Epaminondas' doesn't look very Big—but it's precious Heavy!"]

## SLAPS FOR SLIPPERS.

Sir,—I am at a loss to understand what is the meaning of all this futile discussion as to the respective merits of the various kinds of road pavement. There cannot be a moment's doubt, as to which is, far and away, the cheapest, the safest, and—in a word—the—best. Without any hesitation, I maintain that it is the Asphalte. And I do not speak without experience. For many years I have picked mine up from the box-seat of a hearse, which I think my most virulent opponents will admit, from the ticklish character of its cattle, accustomed as they are to a stiff, formal and lugubrious method of progression, affords a test that must be regarded as supreme by all candid and unprejudiced inquirers into the matter under dispute.

In the wettest weather I have never had so much as a slip on the asphalte, whereas the moment I have got on to the wood, when it has been comparatively dry, I have frequently had the horses down as many as seven or eight times in half a mile, and on one occasion, that I can recall, the stumbling was so frequent, that the Chief Mourner stopped the procession, and sent me an irritable message to the effect that, if I could not manage to keep my horses more securely on their feet, I had better then and there "hand over the corpse, and let it finish its journey to the Cemetery on the top of the first mourning-coach." Fortunately, we came shortly to a bit of asphalte, on which I was able to bowl merrily along, and make up for lost time; and, as at length we reached the Cemetery only an hour and three-quarters after the appointed time, the Chief Mourner, whatever may have been his disposition to make complaints, had the good taste to keep them to himself. Still, the incident was annoying, and I attribute its occurrence simply and solely to that pest of all sure and stately-footed hacks—the Wood Pavement.

Beyond holding three thousand Preference Shares in the European and Inter-oceanic Asphalte Paving Company, and having signed a contract to supply them for seventeen years with the best Pine Pitch on favourable terms, I have not the slightest interest to subserve in writing this letter, which I think any quite impartial critic will allow, curtly, but honestly, expresses the unprejudiced opinion of

An Unbiassed Judgment.

Sir,—I am a private gentleman, who keeps a carriage, or rather, a four-horse coach, in which I am continually driving about all over London at full speed. We dash at such a rate over those portions of the Metropolis that are blessed with a wood pavement that my coachman is frequently summoned for furious driving, but we have never yet had a horse down. No sooner, however, do we get to the asphalte than all this is changed. Leaders and wheelers alike are instantly on their backs, and I have now made it a rule, the moment we come to a street paved with this dangerous and detestable composition, to put my horses inside the coach, and, with the assistance of a policeman or two, drag the vehicle to the other end myself. Only yesterday, I think it was, on the north side of Leicester Square, I counted as many as nineteen ugly falls in as many minutes, necessitating, in nearly every case, the despatch of the creature on the spot by a shot from a revolver. The fact is, the laying of asphalte anywhere should be made criminal in a Vestry. I write impartially on this subject, as, beyond being a sleeping partner in a large firm of Wooden Road-Paving Contractors, I have no sort of interest to serve, one way or the other. But it must be obvious, from the account I have given of my own personal experience above, that in addressing you on the subject, I am actuated by no motives that are not consistent with and fitting to the signature of

An Unprejudiced Observer

Sir,—I am in no way interested in the present pavement controversy, but I would direct public attention to the real source of all the mischief, and that is the ineffective shoeing of the unhappy horses, who are compelled to struggle with the difficulties created for them by a parcel of Paving Authorities. What we want is a general order issued by the Board of Trade obliging all horse-owners to provide those they possess with a couple of pairs of The Patent India-rubber frog and flannel-soled Horse-Shoes, warranted to support the most stumbling beast on any pavement whatever. I said I was in no way interested in the present controversy, and as I am merely the Inventor of the shoe above referred to, it must be obvious, that in making this communication to you, I am only fulfilling the commonest duties of

An Ordinary Spectator

Sir,—Will not you, or someone, step in and deal with the matter comprehensively, without paying regard to vested interests? Surely, if the right people would only put their heads together, they must hit on some method of bettering the present wretched condition of those much ill-used but patient and long-suffering creatures, among whom the first to subscribe himself is

The Ordinary London Omnibus Horse

> Another Title for the Guide to the Exhibition at the New Gallery.—"New Edition of the Tudor's Assistant."

To be Created a Knight Hospitaller.—Mr. Peter Reid.

[Pg. 28]

Another Version of "La Toss-ca." The Cow in the Drury Lane Pantomime.

## THE JUBILEE OF THE PENNY POST.

"On Jan. 10, 1840, the Penny Post became an accomplished fact."—Times.

Attend, all ye who like to hear a noble Briton's praise!
I tell of valiant deeds one wrought in the Century's early days:
When all the legions of Red Tape against him tore in vain,
Man of stout will, brave Rowland Hill, of true heroic strain.
It was about the gloomy close of Eighteen Thirty Nine,
Melbourne and Peel began to melt, the P.O. "sticks" to pine,
For vainly the Official ranks and the Obstructive host
Had formed and squared 'gainst Rowland Hill's plan, of the Penny Post.
Still poor men paid their Ninepences for sending one thin sheet
From Bethnal Green to Birmingham by service far from fleet;
Still she who'd post a billet doux to Dublin from Thames shore,
For loving word and trope absurd must stump up One-and-four;
Still frequent "friendly lines" were barred to all save Wealth and Rank,
Or Parliamentary "pots" who held the privilege of "Frank;"
Still people stooped to dubious dodge and curious device
To send their letters yet evade the most preposterous price;
Still to despatch to London Town a business "line or two"
Would cost a Connemara peasant half his weekly "screw;"
Still mothers, longing much for news, must let their letter lie
Unread at country post-offices, the postage being too high
For their lean purses, unprepared. And Trade was hampered then,
And Love was checked, and barriers raised—by cost—'twixt men and men.
Then up and spake brave Rowland Hill in accents clear and warm,
"This misery can be mended! Read my Post Office Reform!"
St. Stephens heard, and "Red Tape" read, and both cried out "Pooh! Pooh!
The fellow is a lunatic; his plan will never do!"
All this was fifty years ago. And now,—well, are there any
Who do not bless brave Rowland Hill and his ubiquitous Penny?
One head, if 'tis a thinking one, is very often better
Than two, or twenty millions! That's just why we get our letter
From Aberdeen, or Melbourne, from Alaska or Japan,
So cheaply, quickly, certainly—thanks to one stout-soul'd Man.
Fifty years since! In Eighteen Forty, he, the lunatic,
Carried his point. Wiseacres winced; Obstruction "cut its stick."
He won the day, stout Rowland Hill, and then they made him Knight.
If universal benefit unmarred by bane gives right
To titles, which are often won by baseness or a fluke,
The founder of the Penny Post deserved to be a Duke.
But then he's something better—a fixed memory, a firm fame;
For long as the World "drops a line," it cannot drop his name.
'Tis something like a Jubilee, this tenth of Janua-ree!
Punch brims a bumper to its hero, cheers him three times three,
For if there was a pioneer in Civilisation's host,
It was the cheery-hearted chap who schemed the Penny Post.
And when the croaking cravens, who are down on all Reform,
And shout their ancient shibboleth, and raise their tea-pot storm,
Whene'er there's talk of Betterment in any branch of State,
And vent their venom on the Wise, their greed upon the Great,
Punch says to his true countrymen, "Peace, peace, good friends—be still!
Reform does not spell Ruin, lads. Remember Rowland Hill!!!"

## A CURIOUS CURE.

Dear Mr. Punch, January13, 1890.

So much attention is now bestowed upon the prevailing epidemic that I will not apologise for troubling you with a letter detailing a case that has recently come under my own notice. My eldest son, Augustus, returned home from the educational establishment admirably conducted by my eminent and reverend friend, Dr. Swishtale, apparently in excellent health and spirits, shortly before Christmas Day. On the 4th (just a week before the date fixed for his return to the educational establishment to which I have referred) he showed symptoms of influenza. He complained of low spirits, seemed inclined to quarrel with (and thrash) his younger brothers, and flatly declined to accompany me to an inspection of the treasures contained in the Natural Historical Museum at South Kensington. I immediately prescribed for him a diet of bread and water, and an enforced retirement to bed. He spent the remainder of the day in loudly-expressed expostulation and lamentation. On the Sunday (after a consultation with his mother) I decided to adopt a home treatment of kindness, which I trusted would prevent the necessity of calling in our family doctor. I give the remainder of the case in diary form.

Monday.—Augustus very poorly. Complains of pains in his head, arms, legs, back, nose, and right little finger. Says he has no appetite, but, urged by his mother, manages to eat for breakfast two sausages and a couple of eggs. Quite unable to get up; but shortly before two o'clock, on learning that I proposed visiting the Morning Performance at Her Majesty's Theatre, expresses his desire to accompany me. He seemed to enjoy Cinderella thoroughly, in spite of his ailments; but, at the conclusion of the performance, became so very languid, that we found it desirable to take a Hansom home.

Tuesday.—Augustus prostrate. Pain in the right little finger unconsciously shifted to the left little finger. He says he had nightmare continuously, but "had not slept a wink." Breakfast, of course, in bed. No appetite for anything save muffins, herrings, and marmalade on buttered toast. Unable to move until one o'clock, when he thought (at the suggestion of his mother) that a visit to the Crystal Palace might probably do him good. The excursion was a happy thought, as certainly he seemed quite himself at Sydenham. After a hearty dinner from soup and the joint, he once more seemed languid, and had to be carried home by rail and cab.

Wednesday.—Augustus still very unwell. Seems much troubled at a dream he has had, in which he apparently died through going back to school. Still complains of insomnia. Says he did not close his eyes all night. Wished to "punch the head" (to adopt his own phraseology) of his younger brother for saying, that he had heard him snoring. However, recovered towards the evening sufficiently to accompany the rest of the family to the Circus at Covent Garden. In the theatre appeared more himself, but ill immediately afterwards.

Thursday.—Augustus (according to his own account) alarmingly ill. Found by his bedside a medical dictionary (taken from the shelves of my library) which he says, he had been reading. He thinks, that he has all the worst symptoms of delirium tremens. This is strange, as his habitual drink is ginger-beer. He complains of pains in his ears, eyes, knees, elbows, and big toes on both feet. Quite unable to get up before five o'clock, when he was fortunately, sufficiently recovered to accompany his younger brothers to a juvenile party and Christmas tree. According to Sammy (my second son) Augustus danced every dance, and served as an assistant to an amateur conjuror. But this last statement I give with some reserve, as it does not correspond with the report furnished by Augustus himself.

Friday.—Augustus at his worst. In the morning he alarmed his mother by a passionate burst of weeping. He seems to think that, if he goes back to school to-morrow, he will die immediately. Feeling that this was an unhealthy state of mind, I took him to the Zoological Gardens in the afternoon, and must confess that, while there, he appeared to experience a keen delight in feeding the bears with fragments of newspaper, concealed in stale buns. But at night his melancholia returned, and he was scarcely able to eat his dinner.

Saturday.—Received a letter from my eminent and reverend friend, Dr. Swishtale, informing me that, in consequence of the prevalence of influenza, it had been thought advisable to extend the Christmas vacation for a fortnight or three weeks. On conveying this intelligence to my eldest son, he seemed to rapidly recover, and has (I am happy to say) been well ever since.

Trusting that the history of this singular case may afford some hints and comfort to parents with children afflicted (as was my dear Augustus) with a disease so eccentric in its ramifications as influenza,

> I remain, dear Mr. Punch,
> Yours most truly, Simon Simple Wideawake.

Malinger Villa, Blarney Road, S. W.

[Pg. 29]

## VOCES POPULI.

THE CADI OF THE CURBSTONE.

> Scene—A thoroughfare near Hyde Park. Shortly before Scene opens, an Elderly Gentleman has suddenly stopped the cab in which he has been driving, and, without offering to pay the fare, has got out and shuffled off with a handbag. The Cabman has descended from his seat and overtaken the old gentleman, who is now perceived to be lamentably intoxicated. The usual crowd springs up from nowhere, and follows the dispute with keen and delighted interest.

Cabman. Look 'ere, you ain't goin' not without payin' me, you know—where's my two shillings?

A Cab-array.

The Elderly Gentleman (smiling sweetly, and balancing himself on his heels against some railings). I'm shure I dunno.

Cabman. Well, look, can't yer? don't keep me 'ere all day—feel in yer pockets, come!

> [The Old Gentleman makes an abortive effort to find a pocket about him somewhere, and then relapses into abstraction.

Crowd. Let 'im take 'is time, he'll pay yer right enough, if you let the man alone.

A Woman. Ah, pore gentleman, the best of us is took like that sometimes!

> [Murmurs of sympathy.

Cabman. I don't want no more than what's my own. 'E's rode in my keb, and I want my fare out of 'im—an' I mean 'aving it, too!

> [Here the Old Gentleman, who seems bored by the discussion, abruptly serpentines off again and is immediately overtaken and surrounded.

The E. G. Wha' d'ye mean? 'founded 'perrinence! Lemme 'lone ... 'portant bishniss!

Cabman. Pay me my fare,—or I'll have your bag!

> [Seizes bag; the Elderly Gentleman resisting feebly, and always smiling.

Crowd. Why can't yer pay the man his fare and have done with it? There, he's feeling in his pockets—he's going to pay yer now!

> [Elderly Gentleman dives vaguely in a pocket, and eventually produces a threepenny bit, which he tenders magnificently.

Cabman. Thruppence ain't no good to me—two shillings is what I want out o' you—a florin—'j'ear me?

The E. G. (after another dive fishes up three halfpence). Thash all you're 'titled, to—go 'way, go 'way!

Crowd (soothingly to Cabman). 'E'll make it up in time—don't 'urry 'im.

Cabman. D' ye think I kin stand 'ere cooling my 'eels, while he's payin' me a 'apn'y every 'arf 'our? I've got my living to earn same as you 'ave!

Crowd. Ah, he's right there! (Persuasively to Elderly Gentleman.) 'Ere, Ole Guv'nor, fork out like a man!

> [The Old Guv'nor shakes his head at them with a knowing expression.

Cabman. Well, I shan't let go o' this 'ere bag till I am paid—that's all!

> [Here a Policeman arrives on scene.

Policeman. Now, then, what's all this? Move along 'ere, all of you—don't go blocking up the thoroughfare like this! (Scathingly.) What are yer all lookin' at? (The Crowd, feeling this rebuke, move away some three paces, and then linger undecidedly.) 'Ere, Cabman, you've no right to lay 'old on that gentleman's bag—you know that as well as I do!

Cabman (somewhat mollified by this tribute to his legal knowledge, releases bag). Well, he ain't got no right to ride in my keb, and do a guy, without paying nothink, 'as he?

Policeman. All I tell you is—you've no right to detain his bag.

Cabman. Let 'im pay me my legal fare, then—two shillings it is 'e owes me. I don't want to hinterfere with 'im, if he'll pay me.

Pol. (with a magnificent impartality, to the E. G.). What have you got to say to that?

The E. G. (with a dignified wave of the hand). Shay? Why, tha' I'm shimply—a gerrilm'n.

Pol. (his impartiality gradually merging into official disgust). Well, all I can say to you is, if you are one, don't abuse it.... Where are you going to?

The E. G. (brimming over with happy laughter). I dunno!

Pol. (deciding to work on his fears). Don't you? Well, I do, then. I know where you're goin' to—ah, and where you'll be, too, afore you're much older—the station-'us!—(with a slight lapse into jocularity, in concession to his audience)—"for one night honly"—that's your direction, unless you look out. (With virtuous indignation.) 'Ere are you—calling yourself a gentleman, and old enough to know better—riding in this man's keb, and trying to bilk him out of his money. Why, you ought to be ashamed o' yourself!

A Funny Onlooker. Now, Policeman, why do you interfere? Why can't you leave them to settle it between them?

Pol. (turning on him with awful dignity). I don't want no suggestions from you, Sir. I know my dooty, and them as tries to obstruck me'll get no good by it. I'm not 'ere to take one man's part more than another.

Cabman. Well, ain't you goin' to do something now you are here? What's the good of a Copper if he won't 'elp a man to git his rights, eh?

> [Murmurs of sympathy from Crowd.

Pol. Now, you mind yourself—that's what you'd better do, or you'll be gitting into trouble next! I've told you I can't interfere one way or the other; and—(generally, to Crowd)—you must pass along 'ere, please, or I shall 'ave to make yer.

Crowd (to Eld. G.). Give the man his money, can't yer? Pay 'im!

Cabman. Come, look sharp! Just you pay me!

The E. G. How c'n I pay, man? P'fectly 'shurd! Go to bleeshes!

> [Bolts again, and is once more overtaken by the indignant Cabman.

Pol. (following up). Now, then, Cabman, don't go hustling him!

> [Crowd's sympathy veers round to the E. G. again.

Cabman. 'Oo's 'ustlin'? I ain't laid a finger on 'im. (Magnanimously.) I've no wish to 'inder 'im from going wherever he likes, so long as he pays me fust!

Pol. You've no right to touch the man, nor yet his bag; so be careful, that's all I tell you!

The E. G. (with maudlin enthusiasm). Pleeshman's perfelly ri'! Pleeshman always knowsh besht!

> [Tries to pat Policeman on back.

Pol. (his disgust reaching a climax). 'Ere, don't you go pawin' me about—for I won't 'ave it! If I'm right, it's more than what you are, anyhow! Now be off with you, wherever it is you're going to!

Cabman (desperate). But look 'ere—can't you take his name and address?

Pol. (rising to the occasion). Ah! that's what I was waitin' for! Now you've ast me—now I kin act! (Pulls out a pocket-book full of dirty memoranda, and a stumpy pencil.) Now then, Sir, your name, if you please?

The E. G. (sleepily). Shtupid thing a-do, but qui' forgot.... Come out 'ithout mi' name, 'shmornin'!

Pol. (sternly). That won't do with Me, you know. What's your name? Out with it!

The E. G. (evidently making a wild shot at it). Fergushon.

> [Smiles, as if he feels sure the Policeman will be pleased with a name like that.

Pol. John? George? James?—or what?

The E. G. You can purr 'em all down t' me—it don' marrer!

Pol. (briskly). Where do you live, Mr. Ferguson?

The E. G. (mechanically). Shirty-one, Lushington Street, Gargleshbury Park.

Pol. (writing it down, and giving leaf to Cabman). There, will that do for you?

Cabman. That's all I want. (To the E. G.) You'll 'ear from me later on.

The E. G. (affectionately). Alwaysh pleash'd shee you, any time.... Pleeshman too.... Shorry can't shtop—mos' 'portant bishnish!

Pol. Which way do you want to go?

The E. G. Earlsh Court.

Pol. Then get there, if you're capable of it. And now, you boys, clear the road, will you?

> [The Elderly Gentleman, smiling in the full conviction of having extricated himself from a difficult situation with consummate tact and diplomacy, goes off unsteadily in the direction of Piccadilly, accompanied by a suite of small boys who have kindly resolved to see him through any further adventures that may await his progress. The Cabman remains to discuss the affair at great length on the curbstone. The Policeman paces slowly on, conscious that he has worthily maintained the dignity of his office.

> A Correspondent, à propos of the prevailing epidemic, writes,—"Sir, there must have been an epidemic of influenza at Cambridge about thirty-three years ago, as in a travesty of Faust, produced at the A. D. C. about that time, occurs a parody of the song 'Di Frienza' from La Traviata, commencing 'Influenza is about, So I'll stay no longer out.' History repeats itself occasionally.—I am, Yours,

> An Influenzial Personage, Trin. Coll. Cam."

[Pg.30]

### THINGS ONE WOULD RATHER HAVE EXPRESSED DIFFERENTLY.

Miss Amy. "And do you admire Miss Travers, Mr. Goslin?"

Mr. G. "Yes—awf'ly! She's so unlike all other girls, don'tcherknow!!"

## PLAIN ENGLISH!

John Bull loquitur:—

"English as she is spoke," my little friend,
Is not precisely what your pundits deem it.
Let me give you a lesson! This must end.
That flag, however lightly you esteem it,
Has not so long waved folds fair, broad, and ample
To all earth's winds for you at last to trample.
No! What the mischief is your little game?
Monkeyish tricks help neither power nor dignity.
A little country heir of much fair fame,
I'd like to treat with patience and benignity;
But memories of Camoens and De Gama
Should save you from the clown's part in earth's drama.
Clowning it is to caper in this style,
Trying to make a foot-cloth of my banner.
You ought to know the temper of our Isle,
You've tested it in circumstantial manner.
Down before Soult and Junot you'd have gone
But for that very flag, and Wellington.
Old friends? Of course we are. Old rivals too,
In commerce and adventure the world over.
From John the Great's time to the present, you
In Africa have been a daring rover;
"The Rover's free"! Ah! that's good lyric brag—
He is not free to trample on my flag!
Vasco de Gama and Cabral, no doubt,
Held an exceedingly free hand aforetime.
Cocks of the walk were those adventurers stout,
But then their time was different from your time.
In what you call your "civilising labours,"
You'll have to think a little of your neighbours.
"Prancing proconsuls" often stir up strife,
Which to abate diplomacy must strain.
Your Pinto seems to mean war to the knife—
He's too much given to the 'Ercles vein.
I'm sure I do not want to hurt your feelings,
I simply say I can't stand Serpa's dealings.
Plain English this, my little Portuguee,
And Barros Gomes will tell you I mean it.
Fight? Pigmy versus Titan? Fiddlededee!
My meaning—without menaces, you'll glean it—
Is this—I would not hector, no, nor "nag,"
Only, my lad—you'll just come off that Flag!

## LONDON FOR THE LONDONERS;

Or, How to Please Everybody.

Scene—Railway Compartment. Brown and Jones discovered reading Newspapers.

Brown (putting down his journal). Not much news, Sir.

Jones (following the example). Quite so, Sir—not much.

Brown. Perhaps, Sir, the most interesting item is this talk about London Improvement.

Jones. So I think, Sir. But what do we want with this plan for widening the Strand, and making a road to Holborn? It seems to me, Sir, that the suburbs are being neglected.

Brown. I agree with you, Sir. Now, if they would develop the North of London, it would be more to the purpose. If they would run a road direct from Charing Cross to, say Zanzibar Terrace, Upper Kensal Green, West, it would really be of service to the public.

Jones. Very likely, Sir—very likely. For my part, it seems to me that Chiswick also requires a helping hand. The construction of a broad boulevard running from Charing Cross in a straight line to, say, Upham Park Road, would tend to show that the County Council justly appreciated its own responsibilities. And I say this, knowing the necessities of Chiswick, for in that neighbourhood I happen to reside.

Brown. And I, too, Sir, am equally cognisant of the requirements of Upper Kensal Green West. As a matter of fact, Sir, I happen to have a comfortable house in Zanzibar Terrace.

Jones. And I, Sir, a delightful villa in Upham Park Road.

[Whistle. Train enters tunnel, and further conversation is drowned by the rattle of the carriages.

### A Musical Anticipation.

Fred Cowen's Viking
Sure to be striking.
Think there is luck in
Barton McGuckin.

> Unsought Honour.—After his last Birthday, Mr. Gladstone was unanimously elected a Member of "the Eighty Club."

[Pg. 31]

### PLAIN ENGLISH!

John Bull. "LOOK HERE, MY LITTLE FRIEND, I DON'T WANT TO HURT YOUR LITTLE FEELINGS,—BUT, COME OFF THAT FLAG!!!"

[Pg. 32]

[Pg. 33]

Jenkinson (to M. F. H., who dislikes being bothered). "What do you think of this Horse?" (No answer.) "Bred him myself, you know!"

M. F. H. (looking at Horse out of corner of his eye). "Umph! I thought you couldn't have been such a silly Idiot as to have Bought him!"

## OLD COLDS FOR NEW.

(A Fairy Tale of Anglo-Russian Origin.)

Once upon a time there was a feeble little Ailment called "Cold-in-the-head," which was treated in the most contemptuous fashion by its relations. The nearest of its kith and kin—Measles and Scarlatina—absolutely laughed when its name was mentioned, and scarcely recognised it as a connection. So Cold-in-the-head had rather a bad time of it generally.

One day the feeble little Ailment was wandering aimlessly about in search of a resting-place, when it came upon an enormous establishment thronged with thousands of working-men. When the employés are described as "working-men," it is not, however, quite accurate, for at that moment they were not working.

"Why are you idle?" sneezed out little Cold-in-the-head in a tone of compassion.

"Because," replied one of the employés, rather gruffly, "there is nothing to do. If you want further information, you had better inquire at that office."

And the man pointed to a door bearing the legend, "Editor's Room." The poor little Ailment entered the apartment, and found a Gentleman seated in front of a desk covered with papers. The Gentleman was staring before him, and the ink in his pen had dried up.

"What do you want?" asked the Gentleman. "And why don't you shut the door behind you?"

"I should cease to exist without draughts," explained the poor little Ailment, "and please don't speak roughly to me, as I want to help you."

"You help me!" exclaimed the Editor—for the Gentleman was an Editor. "How can you do that?"

"I think I can give you a subject."

"You are very welcome if you can do that," was the reply, "as in this dead season of the year ideas are as scarce as coals; nay scarcer. But surely, didn't you do something for the Press ages ago?"

"That was in the 'forties;' but I am quite different now."

Then the little Ailment related to the Editor stories of Russia, and the East, and all sorts of wonderful things.

"Well," murmured the Editor, after some consideration, "I think you may be useful, after all, if we are helped by the Doctors."

"What a fuss they are making about this new rival of ours!" said Measles, angrily.

"Too absurd!" commented Scarlatina, in a tone of annoyance.

Then there was a grand procession. First came Correspondents, then Interviewed Physicians, then the General Public. It was a sight that had never been seen before. In the midst of the excitement an Ailment appeared.

"Why, bless me!" cried Measles. "Only fancy!"

"Can I believe my eyes?" shouted Scarlatina. "Why, it's poor little Cold-in-the-head, that no one used to care a jot about six months ago!"

"Silence!" said the Ailment, with great dignity. "You must learn to treat me with the respect due to my exalted station. And please don't call me 'Cold-in-the-head,' for I am known as 'The Russian Influenza!'"

Then the Ailment turned towards Mr. Punch, who (as was his wont) was smiling, and bade him do homage.

"Not a bit of it," exclaimed the Sage of Fleet Street, raising a glass of Ammoniated Tincture of Quinine to his lips, and quaffing merrily a teaspoonful. "I defy you! You are puffed up with conceit, my poor little Illness, and when, in a few weeks' time, we have another sensation to talk and think about, you will sink back into your native obscurity."

And Mr. Punch (as the event will prove) was—as he always is—entirely right!

> At the Porte St. Martin.—If there were ever any question as to the genius of Sara Bernhardt, she has now settled it by appearing as Jeanne d'Arc, and showing us what she is Maid of. By the way, as of course she wears golden or auburn hair, Jeanne d'Arc must appear as Jeanne Light. Irreverent scoffers may say this is historically correct, as from their point of view Joan was rather light-headed. Of course, Joan is coming over to London. Why not to Mr. Hare's Theatre, and finish the evening with a prime Garrick Stake.

[Pg. 34]

### MR. PUNCH'S EXHIBITION OF GRAND "OLD MASTERS."

[Pg. 35]

### "ALL ALIVE!"

Cheesemonger. "What is it, my Dear?"

Little Girl. "Oh, Mother's sent back this piece o' Cheese, 'cause Father Says If we wants any Bait when he's a goin' a Fishin', he can dig 'em up in our Garden!"

## A COMING BIG BORE.

Being a probable Extract from the "City Intelligence" for 1900.

The half-yearly meeting to discuss the Report just issued by the Chairman and Directors of the Amalgamated International Anglo-French Submarine Channel Tunnel Railway Company was held in the Company's Fortress Boardroom yesterday afternoon, and, owing to the present critical Continental outlook, as might have been expected, succeeded in securing the attendance of an unusually large number of shareholders.

The Chairman, who on rising was received with prolonged hooting and a chorus, again and again renewed con amore by the assembled audience, of "And he's a jolly bad fellow!" having, at length, though frequently interrupted, obtained something like a hearing, was understood to say, that he had little to offer in the shape of comment on the Report submitted to the meeting. (Groans.) The causes of its unsatisfactory nature were patent to all. Owing to their having been compelled, in what he now fully recognised was a slavish and mistaken obedience to a popular clamour (a Voice, "You're right!"), three years ago, in the height of a sudden scare about invasion—("Oh! oh!")—to let the water in and flood the Tunnel—(groans)—they had been occupied ever since in pumping it out again, and though now he was glad to announce that the last bucketful had been emptied out, and that the traffic would be resumed forthwith—(cheers)—still the operation had cost them three millions of money, that they had to get from the market in the shape of Seventeen per Cent. First Preference Debentures—("Oh! oh!")—on which, however, he trusted that a favourable season's receipts might enable them possibly to pay a next half-year's dividend of three and sixpence. (Prolonged groans.) It was not much; still, it was something. ("Oh! oh!") But if they wished to secure even this modest remuneration for their money, they must make up their minds, especially at the present moment, when there was a daily,—he might almost say, an hourly,—expectation of the withdrawal of their Ambassador from Paris, that there must be no more craven yielding to delusive impulses of an idiotic patriotism—(loud cheers),—in a word, no more talk about closing the Tunnel on the paltry plea of "national security." (Prolonged cheering.) He was glad to hear those cheers. It was an endorsement of the standpoint that he and his Directors meant to take in the present crisis, which was, in effect, to remind themselves that they were shareholders of the Anglo-French Submarine Channel Tunnel Railway Company first—and Englishmen afterwards—(thunders of applause, and loud and prolonged cheering);—and that, if called upon to shed their life's blood, it would be solely in defence of that great engineering work, the true monument of peace, in which their aspirations, their hopes, and, above all, their capital, had been so fearlessly embarked and largely invested.(Renewed enthusiasm.)

A Shareholder here rose, and said, that if there really was, as the Chairman seemed to imply, a probability that war with our friendly neighbours might break out at any minute, would it not be advisable, in the interests of the Company, to come to some amicable and therefore satisfactory commercial arrangement for the transit of troops through the Tunnel, which, no doubt, it would be their first object to secure.(Laughter.) There might possibly be some stupid attempt of our own Government forces to seize upon and even damage, with a view to rendering the Tunnel useless, the works commanding this end of it. Should not a Volunteer Corps of Shareholders be at once organised—("Hear! hear!")—for the purpose of keeping them until the French Military Authorities came over in sufficient force to enable them to seize and securely hold them against all comers? He trusted he was not wanting in a well-balanced and legitimate patriotism—("No! no!")—but like their respected Chairman, he felt that there was a higher claim, a louder call than that addressed to an Englishman by his country, and that was the deep, grim, stern and stirring appeal made to the Seventeen per Cent. Debenture-holder by his Company.(Roars of laughter.)

Considerable uproar here arose over the ejection from the meeting of a protesting Shareholder, who injudiciously proposed an Amendment to the Report to the effect that, "In the face of grave National danger, the Company ought to be prepared, even if it involved serious financial loss, to close their Tunnel, if such a step should be regarded as necessary to the security of the country by the military advisers of the Government." This proposition was howled down, and the Chairman was again about to address the now somewhat quieted meeting, when a copy of an evening paper, announcing the declaration of war, and the simultaneous seizure of the British end of the Tunnel that morning by two hundred French troops, who had crossed from Boulogne by yesterday's evening Mail-boat, and had passed the night at Folkestone in disguise, was handed up on to the platform.

The Chairman (after reading out the various items of intelligence to the Audience, who listened to them with breathless excitement). Well, Gentlemen, in the face of this not entirely unsuspected news—(laughter)-our course is, I think, pretty clear. We must at once dispatch a deputation to make the best terms we can with the French General in command, for the transit of the one or two, or even three hundred thousand troops they propose to bring over. (Cheers.) Even if we get only an excursion fare out of them, it will be something. ("Hear, hear!") And, at least, we shall be able to congratulate ourselves on this occasion with a sterling and heartfelt satisfaction that, whether the country go to the dogs or not—(roars of laughter)—the property of the Company will, at any rate, be preserved. (Enthusiastic applause.) The Chairman, who continued his address amid mingled cheers and laughter in the same strain, having submitted the names to form the proposed deputation to the meeting, the Shareholders dispersed, apparently in the highest spirits, singing a parody of the great national ditty, in which the line, "Britons ever, ever, ever will be knaves," with an accompaniment of loud guffaws of laughter, struck the listening ear, as they betook themselves to their respective homes.

> ### THE IRISH QUESTION IN BOND STREET.

> Very calmly and pleasantly is this matter settled at Messrs. Dowdeswell's Galleries. Mr. O. Rickatson takes us a mighty pleasant tour through Wicklow, Wexford, and Waterford. He gives us his views on the Land Question (Shure there are Sixty-two of them, bedad!) in Water-colours, and very bright, breezy, and delightful they are. If they will have Home Rule, if they persist in having Ireland for the Irish, we have no desire to pick a quarrel with this accomplished aquarelliste (Ha! ha!) for showing us the beauties of the "distrissful counthry;" and if we are not allowed to have the real thing, we shall find the peaceful possession of Mr. Rickatson's delightful pictures no mean substitute.

[Pg.36]

### ENTERTAINING AN ENTERTAINER.

Mr. Toole, before partaking of all the farewell luncheons, dinners, and suppers, previous to his departure for Australia.
Mr. J. L. Toole after all the farewell lunches, &c., &c. P. & O. Co. won't make any reduction on taking a quantity.

## THE PILFERER.

To all Volapuk-speaking Folk.

There exists at this moment no institution which even aspires to be to the Volapuk-speaking world what We were whilst still We remained in Northumberland Street, and looked after things generally. The wise are few. The governing minds are never numerous. But We have one, and We have determined to expand it over a new Monthly Magazine. At the outset We, being, after all, human, were confronted by the difficulty of finding a title. Several suggested themselves to a Mind not lacking in scope. A few may be mentioned. There was the Filibuster; the Summum Bone-'em; Macheath's Miscellany; the Monthly Marauder; the Eviscerator; the Literary Leech; the Monthly Misappropriator; the Sixpenny Scoop. Each has its particular attraction and appropriateness. But, having submitted the selection of titles for the consideration of some of the foremost men of letters, lawyers, soldiers, scientists, and divines of our time, with a request for an expression of their opinion, we decided upon the title which appears at the head of these few preliminary remarks. We are the Pilferer, price sixpence, published monthly; a reduction on taking a quantity.

The Pilferer will not be a colourless reflection of public opinion for the time being. It will certainly not be a Party organ, and that for sufficient reason. Neither Party has at this moment any distinctive body of doctrine, any well-conceived system of faith, which would justify Us in labelling Our new monthly with a Party badge. Moreover than which, We have some reason to believe that neither Party, nor any subdivision of Party, particularly cares to be associated with Us. We shall therefore be independent of Party, because, having a very clear, intelligible belief in Ourselves, We are able to survey the struggles of contending parties from the standpoint of sublime egotism. We are the man who can interpret the best thought of his day in such a manner as to render it accessible to the general intelligence of Our age. We are the true Prophet of Our time, and We hope to make a modest profit out of Our new venture. Hence, Our first starting point will be a deep and almost awestruck regard for the destinies of the Volapuk-speaking race. The American Republic we especially take under our wing (price of the Magazine in the United States 50 cents.), whilst we work for the Empire, seek to strengthen it, to develop it, and, when necessary, to extend it. We believe in Ourselves, in England, and in Humanity. We are not mad. We do not "hear them dancing in the hall," as used to happen when Henry Russell still filled the stage of the Concert Hall. But we have our mission, which is to hold the world straight, keep ourselves en évidence, and earn a modest living.

How is this to be done? By the preaching of a man who energises the activity of the Church by the ideals of chivalry and the production of a Sixpenny Monthly, made up of pickings from other people's pockets. Visible in many ways is the decadence of the Daily Press since We left it. The Mentor of Young Democracy has abandoned philosophy, and stuffs the ears of his Telemachus with the skirts of Calypso's petticoats, the latest scandals of the Court, and the prurient purrings of abandoned womankind in places where you accept the unaccustomed cigar, and drink the unfamiliar champagne. All the more need, then, that there should be a Voice which, like that of the Muezzin from the Eastern minaret, shall summon the Faithful to the duties imposed by their belief. We go into this waste land to possess it. It is capable of being made to flourish as of old under the stimulating radiance of a great ideal, and the diligent and intelligent culture of one who, like Ourselves, has the capacity for direction.

Who will help Us? There is not a street in London, nor a village in the country, which is not capable of producing, even at short notice, and under slight pressure, a man or a woman who will spend two hours a week, every week in the year, in more or less irksome voluntary exertion in order to sell the Pilferer. To such we say, "If, by canvassing, or otherwise, you secure, say, six subscribers, the Pilferer shall be sent to you as long as the six continue their subscriptions." In this case, the subscriptions should be paid in advance.

Are there any among the readers of the Pilferer craving for counsel, for sympathy, and for the consolation of pouring out their soul's grief at so much a quart, so to speak? If so, may we ask them to communicate with Us? Their cases, as they submit them, will be placed before such competent and skilful advisers as We are able to gather round Us from the best men and women in the Volapuk-speaking world. Their confidences will be printed free of cost, and, touched up with the literary art that shaped many a spicy series, are likely to produce copy at once tasty and cheap. We have a heap of letters and post-cards from eminent persons to whom we submitted the design lightly sketched above. They may be known as "Some Letters of Marque to the Editor of the Literary Privateer."

Mr. Gl-dst-ne.

Dear Mr. Pilferer,—The idea you suggest appears to me highly useful, as well as ingenious in relation to all who are able to appreciate it. Personally I am outside this circle, and so will save my sixpence a month. I hope you enjoyed your 'bus tour along the Commercial Road?

Yours faithfully, W. E. Gl-dst-ne.

Mr. B-lf-r.
1, Carlton Gardens, S.W., Dec. 12, '89.

I think your scheme ought to prove useful. But isn't there some difficulty with the original proprietors of the goods? If I can help you in any way, by putting anyone in prison, pray count upon me. Obstruction must be put down in any form in which it presents itself.

Yours faithfully, A. J. B-lf-r.

Earl of C-rn-rv-n.

There is, no doubt, a large amount of valuable matter which appears from time to time in the Magazines, but which, being buried under a mass of unimportant writing, is overlooked. I have found this in reference to my own contributions, which have occasionally been passed over by the public, who have preferred to read the other contents.

Lord C-l-r-dge.

At one time of my life I wrote far too many articles to have much opinion of the ability required to produce them, or their value to anyone when produced. What I did write was much better than the general run of articles. Now I do not write, there is nothing in the Magazines. If you can get it out for nothing, and sell it for sixpence, you will do well.

Lord W-ls-l-y.
Ranger's House, Greenwich Park, S.E. Sunday.

Dear Mr. Pilferer,—In answer to your note, I have nothing to say of any interest.

W-ls-l-y.

Lord T-nnys-n.
Hangford, Freshwater, Isle of Wight.

Lord T-nnys-n presents his compliments to Mr. Pilferer, and begs to point out to him that had he thrust his corporeal presence upon Lord T-nnys-n over his garden hedge, or by his area-steps, he would have been incontinently cast forth by the domestics. Lord T-nnys-n finds it impossible to discover any appreciable difference between that step and the one whereby Mr. Pilferer impertinently, through the medium of the unsuspecting penny post, forces himself upon Lord T-nnys-n's notice, and impudently begs him to assist him with a gratuitous advertisement for a commercial undertaking.

Mr. Charley Bates.
Middle of Next Week. Nix Alley, No. 0.

Dear Pal,—Excuse this address, but sometimes it's well not to go into too many perticklers. I have yours giving me an account of your new lay. As far as I can make out, there's a lot of tradesmen in London who, at considerable give out of swag, get swell fellers to write articles for them. Then you plunge in, romp around, fill your pockets with the pick of the lot, and go and sell it on your own hook. That's good. But what I like best is the putting on of the bands and surplice, the taking of the good book in the right hand, the uprising of the eyeballs, and the general trotting out of the loftiest principles, the purest motives, and the general welfare of our brother men. You are a regular wonner, old pal, and should do; leastways, you have the good wishes of your old friend,

Charley.

☞ NOTICE.—Rejected Communications or Contributions, whether MS., Printed Matter, Drawings, or Pictures of any description, will in no case be returned, not even when accompanied by a Stamped and Addressed Envelope, Cover, or Wrapper. To this rule there will be no exception.

    End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume
    98, January 18, 1890, by Various

    *** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH ***

    ***** This file should be named 21590-h.htm or 21590-h.zip *****
    This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
            https://www.gutenberg.org/2/1/5/9/21590/

    Produced by V. L. Simpson, Malcolm Farmer and the Online
    Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net

    Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
    will be renamed.

    Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
    one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
    (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
    permission and without paying copyright royalties.  Special rules,
    set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
    copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
    protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
    Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
    charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
    do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
    rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
    such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
    research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
    practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
    subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
    redistribution.

    *** START: FULL LICENSE ***

    THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
    PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK

    To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
    distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
    (or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
    Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
    Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
    https://gutenberg.org/license).

    Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
    electronic works

    1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
    electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
    and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
    (trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
    the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
    all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
    If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
    Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
    terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
    entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.

    1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
    used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
    agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
    things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
    even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
    paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
    Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
    and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
    works.  See paragraph 1.E below.

    1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
    or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
    Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
    collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
    individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
    located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
    copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
    works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
    are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
    Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
    freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
    this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
    the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
    keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
    Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.

    1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
    what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
    a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
    the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
    before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
    creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
    Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
    the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
    States.

    1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:

    1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
    access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
    whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
    phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
    Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
    copied or distributed:

    This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
    almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
    re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
    with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org

    1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
    from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
    posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
    and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
    or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
    with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
    work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
    through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
    Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
    1.E.9.

    1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
    with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
    must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
    terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
    to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
    permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.

    1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
    License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
    work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.

    1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
    electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
    prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
    active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
    Gutenberg-tm License.

    1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
    compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
    word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
    distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
    "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
    posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
    you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
    copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
    request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
    form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
    License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.

    1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
    performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
    unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.

    1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
    access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
    that

    - You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
         the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
         you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
         owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
         has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
         Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
         must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
         prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
         returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
         sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
         address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
         the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."

    - You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
         you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
         does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
         License.  You must require such a user to return or
         destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
         and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
         Project Gutenberg-tm works.

    - You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
         money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
         electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
         of receipt of the work.

    - You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
         distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.

    1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
    electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
    forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
    both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
    Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
    Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.

    1.F.

    1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
    effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
    public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
    collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
    works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
    "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
    corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
    property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
    computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
    your equipment.

    1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
    of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
    Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
    Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
    Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
    liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
    fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
    LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
    PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
    TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
    LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
    INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
    DAMAGE.

    1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
    defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
    receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
    written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
    received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
    your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
    the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
    refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
    providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
    receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
    is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
    opportunities to fix the problem.

    1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
    in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER
    WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
    WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.

    1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
    warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
    If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
    law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
    interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
    the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
    provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.

    1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
    trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
    providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
    with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
    promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
    harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
    that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
    or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
    work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
    Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.

    Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm

    Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
    electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
    including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
    because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
    people in all walks of life.

    Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
    assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
    goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
    remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
    Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
    and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
    To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
    and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
    and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org.

    Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
    Foundation

    The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
    501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
    state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
    Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
    number is 64-6221541.  Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at
    https://pglaf.org/fundraising.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
    Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
    permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.

    The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
    Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
    throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at
    809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
    business@pglaf.org.  Email contact links and up to date contact
    information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
    page at https://pglaf.org

    For additional contact information:
         Dr. Gregory B. Newby
         Chief Executive and Director
         gbnewby@pglaf.org

    Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
    Literary Archive Foundation

    Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
    spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
    increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
    freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
    array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
    ($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
    status with the IRS.

    The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
    charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
    States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
    considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
    with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
    where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
    SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
    particular state visit https://pglaf.org

    While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
    have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
    against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
    approach us with offers to donate.

    International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
    any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
    outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.

    Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
    methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
    ways including including checks, online payments and credit card
    donations.  To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate

    Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
    works.

    Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
    concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
    with anyone.  For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
    Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.

    Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
    editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
    unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
    keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.

    Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:

         https://www.gutenberg.org

    This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
    including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
    Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
    subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.