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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI


VOL 104.




March 18, 1893.




    [Illustration: "WELL MATCHED."

    _Medico_ (_pathetically, with a view to touching the
    Dealer's heart_). "NOW, MR. BOBBS, WHAT _DO_ YOU THINK I
    COULD GET A THOROUGHLY GOOD USEFUL PAIR OF HORSES FOR,
    EH? PRICE NOT STIFF."

    _Mr. Bobbs._ "LOR' BLESS YOU, SIR, TO FIND
    HORSES--NOTHIN' EASIER. BUT, AS REGARDS
    _PRICE_--WELL--YOU CAN HAVE 'EM AT ALL PRICES, JUST AS
    YOU CAN DOCTORS!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

MIXED NOTIONS.

No. VII.--PARLIAMENTARY PROCEDURE.

(_Scene and Persons as usual._)

_Inquirer_ (_to First Well-Informed Man_). I say, have you ever been in
the House of Commons?

_First W. I. M._ (_shortly_). No, you know I haven't.

_Inquirer._ Oh, I don't mean as a Member. Of course I know you wouldn't
stand the rot of all these Constituents, or whatever they call
themselves. But have you ever been there as a visitor while a debate's
going on?

_First W. I. M._ Yes, once--some years ago. But why do you ask?

_Inquirer_ (_producing an order of admission_). Well, you see, I got old
JENKINS to give me a ticket for to-night, and I'm hanged if I know how
I'm to get there, or when I'm to go, or anything about it. I thought you
might be able to tell me how it's done.

_First W. I. M._ Let's have a look at your ticket.

    [_Both the_ Well-Informed Men _inspect it with an air of
    critical sagacity._

_First W. I. M._ (_after a prolonged pause_). I don't see where your
difficulty is. You just present this! at the door.

_Inquirer._ Ah, I daresay!--but what door? That's what I want to know.
The place looks as if it had about fifty thousand doors, you know. And
then I believe, if you make any mistakes, they march you off, in
two-twos, as a dynamiter, or a Socialist, or an agitator, or something.
You know old BONKER. Well, he went there once with a black bag, in which
he'd got some sandwiches and cake, and, just because he wouldn't open
it, they made no end of a row, and shoved him in the Clock-tower, or
something, until he apologised. I don't want any of those games, you
know.

_Average Man._ Don't take a black bag then. They won't want to search
your pockets.

_Inquirer_ (_relieved_). Won't they? That's one comfort, at any rate. Do
you think I ought to go in at the big entrance?

_First W. I. M._ Of course you ought. The others are only for Members.

_Inquirer._ Ah! And I suppose I ought to get there pretty early now that
they've changed their hours. (_With determination._) I'll go about
half-past eleven.

    [_A pause. They read papers._

_Inquirer_ (_suddenly, with intense alarm_). Oh, I say, look here, you
chaps. Here's old GLADSTONE gone and suspended the Twelve o'Clock Rule.
What does that mean?

_Second W. I. M._ It means that they start everything at twelve o'clock
in the day.

_First W. I. M._ No, it doesn't. It means that they don't start anything
till twelve o'clock at night.

_Second W. I. M._ (_pityingly_). My dear fellow, where have you been all
these years? They _always_ go home on the stroke of midnight now.

_First W. I. M._ That's just where you're wrong. Midnight to two in the
morning is just jolly well their best time now.

_Second W. I. M._ I'll bet you half a thick 'un you're wrong!

_First W. I. M._ And I'll bet you half a thick 'un I'm right!

    [_The argument continues for some minutes in this
    strain._

_Inquirer._ I wonder if they'll have any obstruction. I should like to
see some of that. I believe it's no end amusing.

_Second W. I. M._ Oh, you may trust this Opposition for that. Their only
notion for employing time is to obstruct everything and everybody.

_First W. I. M._ (_with a deadly calmness_). Ah! you call it
obstruction, of course, because you want to rush your iniquitous Bills
through the House. But you don't think we're going to stand that, do
you?--because we're not, and the Country's with us. Just look at
Grimsby.

_Second W. I. M._ All right! Suppose you look at Cirencester.

_First W. I. M._ What do you say to Stockport then?

_Second W. I. M._ And what do _you_ say to Walsham and Hexall, and all
the rest of them? (_At the suggestion of the_ Average Man, _they abandon
this fiery debate. A pause._)

_Inquirer._ Who's Speaker now?

_First W. I. M._ Sir ROBERT PEEL.

_Inquirer._ Will he be there to-night?

_First W. I. M._ Of course he will. He's got to be there.

_Inquirer._ But then what does the Chairman of Committee do?

_First W. I. M._ Oh, ah,--um, let me see; the Chairman of Committee
does----(_Brightly._) He's only appointed, you know, when they want a
Committee about something.

_Second W. I. M._ I fancy he has to read the Bills.

_First W. I. M._ (_gathering assurance as he proceeds_). Not when
they're read a first time. Somebody else does that--I forget what they
call him. The Chairman reads 'em a second time, and takes 'em up to the
House of Lords.

_Inquirer._ So he does, of course. I ought to have remembered that. But
I'd got a sort of notion they didn't really read the Bills at all--just
chucked 'em into a bag, and called it a Second Reading.

_First W. I. M._ (_condescendingly_). That's how they used to do it
about ten years ago; but they had to alter the whole thing after they
got BRADLAUGH into the House.

_Inquirer._ Why was that?

_First W. I. M._ Well, he wouldn't take an oath, you know; so, after
that, they altered everything.

_Inquirer_ (_with admiration_). By Jove, what a chap you are for
recollecting things!

    [_Terminus._

       *       *       *       *       *

QUEER QUERIES.

A NEW POLL-TAX.--Would somebody inform me of the easiest way of getting
into Parliament? I see that Members are soon going to be paid, and that
would be very useful to me, as my present yearly expenses are £1,500,
and my income barely £150. Had I better try as a "Labour Candidate"? I
feel that I may claim the title, on account of the labour--twelve hours
at least _per diem_--which I have to expend on getting out of the way of
my creditors. I presume that, before long, there will be Parliaments all
over the place, for England, Wales, and Scotland, as well as for
Ireland, and I want to get into _all_! At least, I want to get into all
where the excellent system of payment of Members is adopted, with
salaries "On the higher scale," as they say in the Courts. It is curious
that, when I explain to my creditors this most promising source of
prospective income, they don't seem to see it! But creditors always were
a purblind race.--WOULD-BE LEGISLATOR.

       *       *       *       *       *

THE "WITLER" AND THE "WASSER-MAIDEN."

_A Ballad of Bungdom._ (_After Hans Breitmann's Ballad of the Mermaid._)

    [Illustration]

  Der noble Witler[A] BUNGO
    Von Schvillenschviggenop,
  Rode out mit shpeer und helmet,
    Und he coom to de panks of de Schlopp,

  [A] Licensed Victualler.

  Und oop dere rose a Meer-maid
    Vot hadn't got nodings on.
  Und she say, "Oh, Witler BUNGO,
    Vhere you goes mit yourself alone?"

  Und he says, "I rides mine high-horse,
    Mit helmet und mit shpeer,
  Till I gooms unto mine Gasthaus,[B]
    Vhere I sells goot wine und peer."

  [B] Tavern, or Wine Shop.

  Und den outspoke de Maiden
    Vot hadn't got nodings on:
  "I ton't dink mooch of beoplesh
    Dat cares for demselfs alone.

  You'd petter coom down to de Wasser,--
    'Tis de pest trink ash you'll see,--
  Und haf a wholesome tinner
    Mit Schlopp-Vash, along mit me."

  "Dere you sees de fisch a-schwimmin!
    Und dere healthy efery one."
  So sang dis Wasser-Maiden,
    Vot hadn't got nodings on.

  "Your shtrong tipplesh cost mooch money,
    Dere ish death in de trinks you've sold;
  Und you helps yourself, by doonder,
    To de Vorkmansh hard-earned gold.

  "Shoost look at doze sodden wretches,
    Vhite schlafes of de Witler Rings!
  From dere 'trunks' you vill your pockets,
    Und you rob dem like efery dings.

  "Vot _dey_ vantsh mit your schnaps[C] und lager,
    Vitrioled gin and doctored wine?
  Smash your pottles, and preak your parrels,
    Und try dese Schlopps of mine!"

  [C] Drams, drinks.

       * * *

  Vill _dat_ fetch him! He standsh as shpellbound!
    She vould pool his coat-tails down.
  She von't draw _him_ oonder der Wasser--
    Dat Maiden mit nodings on!

       *       *       *       *       *

OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.

Thank you, Mrs. HUNGERFORD (says the Baron, bowing his very best to the
talented authoress), for one of the cheeriest, freshest, and
sweetest--if I may be allowed to use the epithet--of one-volume'd
stories I've read for many a day. The three daughters are delightful. I
question whether you couldn't have done better with "two only, as are
generally necessary;" but perhaps this is ungrateful on my part. Anyway,
two out of the three lovers are scarcely worth mentioning, so I don't
think I am far wrong, for the team was a bit unmanageable, well as you
had them in hand. Excellent, too, is the sketch of _Dad_, though that of
_Aunt Jane_ is a trifle too grotesque, and will, perforce, remind those
of your readers, who are theatre-goers, of Mr. PENLEY in petticoats, now
actually playing "_Charley's_" irresistibly comic _Aunt_ at the Globe
Theatre. But it is all good, and not too good to be true. Likewise, my
dear Madame, you have given us two life-like sketches, one of a
car-driver with his vicious mare, and the other of _Molly's_ little dog.
In conclusion, I congratulate you, Mrs. HUNGERFORD, as also the
publisher, Mr. HEINEMANN, on having secured so good a specimen of the
material for sale in this Hungerford market, says

    THE BARON DE B.-W.

       *       *       *       *       *

HOME, CHEAP HOME!

  "Thine be a cot beside a hill,"
    Hums Mrs. HAWEIS in our ear;
  "Such cots are in the market still,
    At only thirty pounds a year.

  "Then, as for furnishing the fold,
    Another fifty pounds will do it;
  But mind you stick to what is old,
    Nor carry modern rubbish to it!

  "Your chairs must all be Chippendale,
    Your tables of the native oak,
  Your sofas"--but of what avail!
    To further urge this little joke?

  For in this cot the chairs may be
    Much chipped, but hardly Chippendale,
  Unless the lady will agree
    To costs "upon the _hire_ scale."

       *       *       *       *       *

    Said a prim Bachelor, in a nasty temper, after a
    struggle with an ultra-stiffened clean shirt, "I should
    like to indict my laundress at the Old Bailey, charge
    her with murdering my linen, and, as evidence, I'd
    produce the mangled remains in Court."

       *       *       *       *       *

    MRS. R. has been studying architecture, She says that
    "all Schoolmasters' Houses ought to be built in the
    Early Perpendicular Tutor style."

       *       *       *       *       *

    [Illustration: "WHERE A FOOTMAN IS KEPT."

    "BUT WHY DO YOU WANT TO LEAVE, SARAH? IT'S NOT A HARD
    PLACE, AND JOHN DOES MOST OF YOUR WORK?"

    "YES, MA'AM! BUT--A--JOHN HAS NO CONVERSATION?"]

       *       *       *       *       *

LIQUID AIR.

  A learned Professor, the other day,
    At the Royal Institution,
  Explained, in a quite scientific way,
    How, helped by a contribution
      From the Goldsmiths' Company, he'd prepare
      Some liquid oxygen--you're aware
      This is what plain English folks call "air"
    Unspoilt by smoky pollution.

  No doubt he meant well, and the Goldsmiths too,
    In their noble work together;
  But was it the very best thing to do,
    In that showery, soaking weather;
      When drizzle, or downpour, of dogs and cats,
      From the "liquid air" made us all drowned rats,
      And ruined our clothes and our best top-hats,
    And spoilt boots of the stoutest leather?

  Professors and Companies, if you would
    Invent some sort of appliance
  To dry "liquid air," on which we could
    Repose implicit reliance,
      Arranged to diminish this H_{2}O,
      Which, as every schoolboy ought to know,
      The Germans call _wasser_, the French call _eau_,
    We should bless your chemical science.

       *       *       *       *       *

    CON. FOR CAPITALISTS.

    _Q._ Why is it clear the Sparrow is an advocate of Free
    Competition?

    _A._ Because his everlasting cry is, "Cheep-Cheep!"

       *       *       *       *       *

    "THE GOTHENBURG SYSTEM."--Mrs. R. warmly espouses the
    cause of Temperance. She is very strong on what she has
    heard is called "The Gotobed System," in Sweden.

       *       *       *       *       *

PILL-DOCTOR HERDAL.

(_Translated from the Original Norwegian by Mr. Punch._)

SECOND ACT.

DR. HERDAL'S _Drawing-room and Dispensary, as before. It is early in the
day._ Dr. HERDAL _sits by the little table, taking his own temperature
with a clinical thermometer. By the door stands the_ New Book-keeper;
_he wears blue spectacles and a discoloured white tie, and seems
slightly nervous._

_Dr. Herd._ Well, now you understand what is necessary. My late
book-keeper, Miss BLAKDRAF, used to keep my accounts very cleverly--she
charged every visit twice over.

_The New B._ I am familiar with book-keeping by double entry. I was once
employed at a Bank.

_Dr. Herd._ I am discharging my assistant, too; he was always trying to
push me out with his pills. Perhaps you will be able to dispense?

_The New B._ (_modestly_). With an additional salary, I should be able
to do that too.

_Dr. Herd._ Capital! You _shall_ dispense with an additional salary. Go
into the Dispensary, and see what you can make of it. You may mistake a
few drugs at first--but everything must have a beginning.

    [_As the_ New B. _retires,_ Mrs. HERDAL _enters in a hat
    and cloak with a watering-pot, noiselessly._

_Mrs. Herd._ Miss WANGEL got up early, before breakfast, and went for a
walk. She is so wonderfully vivacious!

_Dr. Herd._ So I should say. But tell me, ALINE, is she _really_ going
to stay with us here?         [_Nervously._

_Mrs. Herd._ (_looks at him_). So she tells me. And, as she has brought
nothing with her except a tooth-brush and a powder-puff, I am going into
the town to get her a few articles. We _must_ make her feel at home.

_Dr. Herd._ (_breaking out_). I _will_ make her not only _feel_, but
_be_ at home, wherever that is, this very day! I will _not_ have a
perambulating Allegory without a portmanteau here on an indefinite
visit. I say, she shall go--do you hear, ALINE? Miss WANGEL will go!

    [_Raps with his fist on table._

_Mrs. Herd._ (_quietly_). If you say so, HAUSTUS, no doubt she will
_have_ to go. But you must tell her so yourself.

    [_Puts the watering-pot on the console table, and goes
    out, as_ HILDA _enters, sparkling with pleasure._

_Hilda_ (_goes up straight to him_). Good morning, Dr. HERDAL. I have
just seen a pig killed. It was _ripping_--I mean, gloriously thrilling!
And your wife has taken a tremendous fancy to me. Fancy _that_!

_Dr. Herd._ (_gloomily_). It _is_ eccentric certainly. But my poor dear
wife was always a little----

_Hilda_ (_nods her head slowly several times_). So _you_ have noticed
that too? I have had a long talk with her. She can't get over your
discharging Mr. KALOMEL--he is the only man who ever _really_ understood
her.

_Dr. Herd._ If I could only pay her off a little bit of the huge,
immeasurable debt I owe her--but I can't!

_Hilda_ (_looks hard at him_). Can't _I_ help you? I helped RAGNAR
BROVIK. Didn't you know I stayed with him and poor little KAIA--after
that accident to my Master Builder? I did. I made RAGNAR build me the
loveliest castle in the air--lovelier, even, than poor Mr. SOLNESS'S
would have been--and we stood together on the very top. The steps were
rather too much for KAIA. Besides, there was no room for her on top. And
he put towering spires on all his semi-detached villas. Only, somehow,
they didn't let. Then the castle in the air tumbled down, and RAGNAR
went into liquidation, and I continued my walking-tour.

    [Illustration: "Beautiful rainbow-coloured powders that
    will give one a real grip on the world!"]

_Dr. Herd._ (_interested against his will_). And where did you go after
_that_, may I ask, Miss WANGEL?

_Hilda._ Oh, ever so far North. There I met Mr. and Mrs. TESMAN--the
second Mrs. TESMAN--she who was Mrs. ELVSTED, with the irritating hair,
you know. They were on their honeymoon, and had just decided that it was
impossible to reconstruct poor Mr. LÖVBORG'S great book out of Mrs.
ELVSTED'S rough notes. But I insisted on GEORGE'S attempting the
impossible--with Me. And what _do_ you think Mrs. TESMAN wears in her
hair _now_?

_Dr. Herd._ Why, really I could not say. Vine-leaves, perhaps.

_Hilda._ Wrong--_straws!_ Poor TESMAN _didn't_ fancy that--so he shot
himself, _un_-beautifully, through his ticket-pocket. And I went on and
took Rosmersholm for the Summer. There had been misfortune in the house,
so it was to let. Dear good old Rector KROLL acted as my reference; his
wife and children had no sympathy with his views, so I used to see him
every day. And I persuaded him, too, to attempt the impossible--he had
never ridden anything but a rocking-horse in his life, but I made him
promise to mount the White Horse of the Rosmersholms. He didn't get over
_that_. They found his body, a fortnight afterwards, in the mill-dam.
Thrilling!

_Dr. Herd._ (_shakes his finger at her_). What a girl you are, Miss
WANGEL! But you mustn't play these games _here_, you know.

_Hilda_ (_laughs to herself_). Of course not. But I suppose I _am_ a
strange sort of bird.

_Dr. Herd._ You are like a strong tonic. When I look at you I seem to be
regarding an effervescing saline draught. Still, I really must decline
to take you.

_Hilda_ (_a little sulky_). That is not how you spoke ten years ago, up
at the mountain station, when you were such a flirt!

_Dr. Herd._ _Was_ I a flirt? Deuce take me if I remember. But I am not
like that _now_.

_Hilda._ Then you have really forgotten how you sat next to me at the
_table d'hôte_, and made pills and swallowed them, and were so splendid
and buoyant and free that all the old women who knitted left next day?

_Dr. Herd._ What a memory you have for trifles, Miss WANGEL, it's quite
wonderful!

_Hilda._ Trifles! There was no trifling on _your_ part. When you
promised to come back in ten years, like a troll, and fetch me!

_Dr. Herd._ Did I say all that? It _must_ have been _after table
d'hôte_!

_Hilda._ It was. I was a mere chit then--only twenty-three; but I
remember. And now _I_ have come for _you_.

_Dr. Herd._ Dear, dear! But there is nothing of the troll about me now I
have married Mrs. SOLNESS.

_Hilda_ (_looking sharply at him_). Yes, I remember you were always
dropping in to tea in those days.

_Dr. Herd._ (_seems hurt_). Every visit was duly put down in the ledger
and charged for--as poor little SENNA will tell you.

_Hilda._ Little SENNA? Oh, Dr. HERDAL, I believe there is a bit of the
troll left in you still!

_Dr. Herd._ (_laughs a little_). No, no; my conscience is perfectly
robust--always was.

_Hilda._ Are you quite _quite_ sure that, when you went indoors with
dear Mrs. SOLNESS that afternoon, and left me alone with my Master
Builder, you did not foresee--perhaps wish--intend, even a little,
that----H'm?

_Dr. Herd._ That you would talk the poor man into clambering up that
tower? You want to drag _Me_ into that business now!

_Hilda_ (_teasingly_). Yes, I certainly think that then you went on
exactly like a troll.

_Dr. Herd._ (_with uncontrollable emotion_). HILDA, there is not a
corner of me safe from you! Yes, I see now that _must_ have been the way
of it. Then I _was_ a troll in that, too! But isn't it terrible the
price I have had to pay for it? To have a wife who----. No, I shall
never roll a pill again--never, never!

_Hilda_ (_lays her head on the stove, and answers as if half asleep_).
No more pills? Poor Doctor HERDAL!

_Dr. Herd._ (_bitterly_). No--nothing but cosy commonplace grey powders
for a whole troop of children.

_Hilda_ (_lively again_). Not _grey_ powders! (_Quite seriously._) I will
tell you what you shall make next. Beautiful rainbow-coloured powders
that will give one a real grip on the world. Powders to make everyone
free and buoyant, and ready to grasp at one's own happiness, to _dare_
what one _would_. I will have you make them. I will--I _will!_

_Dr. Herd._ H'm! I am not quite sure that I clearly understand. And then
the ingredients--?

_Hilda._ What stupid people all of you pill-doctors are, to be sure!
Why, they will be _poisons_, of course!

_Dr. Herd._ Poisons? Why in the world should they be _that_?

_Hilda_ (_without answering him_). All the thrillingest, deadliest
poisons--it is only such things that are wholesome, nowadays.

_Dr. Herd._ (_as if caught by her enthusiasm_). And I could colour them,
too, by exposing them to rays cast through a prism. Oh, HILDA, how I
have needed you all these years! For, you see, with _her_ it was
impossible to discuss such things.          [_Embraces her._

_Mrs. Herd._ (_enters noiselessly through hall-door_). I suppose,
HAUSTUS, you are persuading Miss WANGEL to start by the afternoon
steamer? I have bought her a pair of curling-tongs, and a packet of
hair-pins. The larger parcels are coming on presently.

_Dr. Herd._ (_uneasily_). H'm! HILDA--Miss WANGEL I _should_ say--is
kindly going to stay on a little longer, to assist me in some scientific
experiments. You wouldn't understand them if I told you.

_Mrs. Herd._ Shouldn't I, HAUSTUS? I daresay not.

    [_The_ New Book-keeper _looks through the glass-door of
    Dispensary._

_Hilda_ (_starts violently and points--then in a whisper_). Who is
_that_?

_Dr. Herd._ Only the New Book-keeper and Assistant--a very intelligent
person.

_Hilda_ (_looks straight in front of her with a far-away expression, and
whispers to herself_). I thought at first it was.... But no--_that_
would be _too_ frightfully thrilling!

_Dr. Herd._ (_to himself_). I'm turning into a regular old troll
now--but I can't help myself. After all, I am only an elderly Norwegian.
We are _made_ like that.... Rainbow powders--_real_ rainbow powders!
With HILDA.... Oh, to have the joy of life once more!

    [_Takes his temperature again as Curtain falls._

       *       *       *       *       *

PROFESSOR WHITEWASH'S GUIDE TO HISTORY.

_Question._ Who was WILLIAM the Conqueror? _Answer._ The Managing
Director of an Exploration Company composed of the most respectable
shareholders.

_Q._ WILLIAM RUFUS, HENRY THE FIRST and RICHARD THE FIRST?

_A._ RUFUS, a worthy son of a worthy father; HENRY, a scholar, who
strongly objected to over-cramming; and RICHARD, a mild-mannered man,
who modestly shrank from canonisation.

_Q._ And what do you know about King JOHN?

_A._ That he gave to a grateful country the Magna Charta.

_Q._ And all the intermediate monarchs' being equally good, what have
you to say about King HENRY THE EIGHTH?

_A._ He was a model monarch, and worthy to be the father of MARY and
ELIZABETH.

_Q._ How about the Royal ladies you have last mentioned?

_A._ The first had as large a mind as the other a heart.

_Q._ What do you think of the STUART Family?

_A._ It was famed for its fidelity, trustfulness, and gratitude.

_Q._ Were WILLIAM and MARY, and ANNE, pleasant Monarchs?

_A._ Most pleasant. As witty as they were beautiful.

_Q._ And how about the GEORGES?

_A._ All that could be desired--and more. Indeed, all our monarchs have
been of the most exemplary character, against whom the most
scandal-loving would utter no word of complaint.

    [Illustration: The Professor.]

       *       *       *       *       *

THE ENGLISH-FRENCH EMBASSADORE AT THE MANSHUN HOUSE.

    [Illustration]

WELL, we've bin a going on much as usual at our grand old Manshun House
under our trewly liberal LORD MARE, but I ain't had nothink werry new to
tell about, till a few nites ago, when we had what I can truthfully call
a reel staggerer, and no mistake. It seems as it's allers the custon,
when a Embassadore, who has made hisself werry poplar, is gitting jest a
leetle tired of us, and begins to si for Ome sweet Ome, for the
principalest Gent in London to give him sitch a grand Bankwet as he
ain't never seen afore, and ain't never likely for to see again. So the
LORD MARE, hearing as the French Embassadore was in that werry dellicate
sitiwation, arsked about three hundred of the most heminent Gents in all
London to come to the Manshun House to meet him, and they all came, as
in course they wood do, and that was one of the werry grandest Bankwets
as regards silly brated Gests as ewen I ewer had the honner of waiting
on.

And now for the staggerers! Just to begin with, why the French
Embassadore is no more a Frenchman than I am! for his name it's
WODDINGTON, and so was his Father's before him, and strange to say,
thanks, I spose, to the splendid dinner, _et setterer_, as was guv him,
he acshally told us as he rowed in the Winning Boat at the Uniwersity
Boat-race at Putney, ewer so many years ago! Werry like a Frenchman,
suttenly, or, as I should prefer saying, werry like a Whale! Of course
all the Gents present, being reel Gents, looked quite as if they
beleeved it all; but, when he afterwards went on to say that his Grate
Grandfather took his most religious and grayshus Majesty, KING CHARLES
THE SECOND, right up into the Hoak Tree, and so saved his preshus life,
I saw sum two or three of the werry hiest on 'em trying in wain to look
quite serious, as if they bleeved it all; and one werry smart young
feller near me said to his friend, "Why not call it the Hoax Tree"? I
didn't kno quite what he meant, but they both had a quiet larf over it.

    [Illustration: "Robaire" à la mode de Parry.]

He gave us a few more staggerers, but not quite equal to the King
Charles one, and of course we coud all make allowances for him, as it
was his last chance in such a party as that was. But he made up for it
all before he left, by speaking of the Grand Old Copperation as one of
the werry noblest bodys in the world, and as having made its mark in the
history of this great Country, and how artily he hoped it would continue
and flurrish for ever! I don't suppose as there was any county
counsellers among so distingwisht a Body, or I should like to know what
they thort of the Embassadore's opinion of us! An I'm thinkin of wizitin
Parry myself and cummin out strong. And wy not? They tell me it will
make me kwite young again, for I shall go over there a helderly henglish
waiter and reappear in Parry as a "garsong" which is french for "a young
man."

    ROBERT.

       *       *       *       *       *

BRIGHTON BOORS.

    [MR. GLADSTONE was mobbed by an immense crowd on Sunday,
    the 5th.]

    O Brighton, it isn't a thing to be proud of
      That people, the fat uns as well as the bony uns,
    Should squeeze an old Gentleman, crushed in a crowd of Brightonians.

    All watering-places you claim to be Queen of,
      As proud as the Tyrians or the Sidonians?
    Your manners don't match; such behaviour seems green of Brightonians.

    You scare away visitors, who are affrighted
      By folks rude as Goths, Huns, or wild Caledonians.
    Such staring shows that in two ways you're short-sighted Brightonians.

       *       *       *       *       *

OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.--CHATTO AND WINDUS have published, in handy form,
cloth bound, and handsomely printed, an edition of JUSTIN MCCARTHY'S
novels. There are, ten in all, going at half-a-crown a-piece, and well
worth the money. The literary style is excellent--not a matter of course
in the writing of novels--the tone wholesome, whilst on every page
gleams the light of genuine, if gentle humour. In looking through the
pages of this charming little library, my Baronite is inclined to regret
that Mr. MCCARTHY should, to some extent, have given up to Politics what
was meant for Literature.

    B. DE B.-W.

       *       *       *       *       *

    [Illustration: AN EFFECT OF SHYNESS.

    _Proud Mamma._ "WHICH DO YOU THINK EFFY'S MOST LIKE, MR.
    JINKS?--HER FATHER, OR ME?"

    _Mr. Jinks._ "OH--A--I SHOULD SAY SHE'S A PLAIN LIKENESS
    OF HER FATHER----I MEAN--A--HANDSOME LIKENESS OF HER
    MOTHER--A--I MEAN--A--A----" [_Stammers hopelessly,
    upsets his Tea, and wishes himself unborn._]

       *       *       *       *       *

THE ASSAULT!!

_Beleaguers babble around the Battering-Ram:--_

_Balfourius_ (_musingly_).          "Heroes tall
              Dislodging pinnacle and parapet
              Upon the tortoise creeping to the wall."

_Chamberlainus_ (_sardonically_). Heroes tall, indeed! Have the
distressed defenders of this untenable Citadel any such? GLADSTONIUS is
a sort of hero, perhaps, but hardly tall; HARCOURTIUS is tall indeed,
but no hero. Aha!

_Saundersonius_ (_sharply_). Yes; and we have had too much of that
"tortoise-creeping" business. Sharp's the word now, I hope. BALFOURIUS'S
Battering-Ram--though the murderous ruffians--I mean excited
politicians--_did_ denounce it, is better than all your tortoises!

_Balfourius_ (_completing his quotation_). "Lances in ambush set."

_Saundersonius._ Oh yes, they're all very well--in their way. A School
of Strategy for our "young bloods," with secret _séances_,
and--ahem!--_Fagin_-like rehearsals, is not a bad notion. But on the
whole I agree with _Moloch_:--

  "My sentence is for open war: of wiles,
  More inexpert, I boast not: there let those
  Contrive who need, or when they need, not now.
  For while they sit contriving, shall the rest,
  Millions that stand in arms, and longing wait
  The signal to arise, sit lingering here,
  Prisoners of his tyranny who reigns
  By our delay? No, let us rather choose,
  Arm'd with hell-flames and fury all at once,
  O'er these high towers to force resistless way,
  Turning Obstruction into horrid arms
  Against the Obstructor; when to meet the noise
  Of his 'iniquitous' engine, he shall hear
  Ulsterian thunder; and for lightning set
  Green fire and rockets shot with equal rage
  Among his 'items;' and his seat itself
  Shake with Tartarean tactics, 'dirty tricks,'
  His own invented dodges."

_Grandolphus_ (_tugging at Balfourius's tunic-tails_). Ha! ha! ha! Well
quoted, my Orange-plumed Hyperborean hero! (_Aside: I must read up the
bards a bit. Didn't know they were so practically pertinent. How handy
that_ "_senesque_" _bit came in the other day!_)

_Balfourius_ (_fidgeting_). I say, GRANDOLPHUS, if you'd tug at the rope,
instead of my tails, I fancy you'd tire me less, and have more effect on
the Ram.

_Grandolphus_ (_cheerily_). Ah, my old friend, I assure you I intend to
stick to _you_ "loyally and unhesitatingly."

_Balfourius_ (_drily_). Oh--_thanks!!!_

_Chamberlainus._ Never _were_ such a United lot as we are:

    (_Sings sotto voce._)

  _For I love dear_ B. _as a brother, I do,_
      _And dear_ B. _he worships me;_
  _But we'll both be blowed if we'll either be stowed_
      _In the other chap's hold, you see!_

_Balfourius._ What's that you say?

_Chamberlainus._ Oh, merely humming "Birds in their little nests agree."

_Balfourius._ Ah, as the Chief says, there'll be plenty of opportunity
for personal sacrifice and pulling together before we're through with
this siege. To work this Battering-Ram with effect, unanimity and
simultaneity of effort are especially essential.

_Saundersonius._ Quite so! So bear a hand--_at the rope_, GRANDOLPHUS,
if you please. Now then, boys--_all together!!!_ BANG!!!!!!

_Grand Old Voice_ (_from within_). "When they _do_ agree, their
unanimity is wonderful." Wonder if that gate will stand the shock! Must
disable that Rampant Ram of theirs--somehow.

    [_Left keeping his eye on 'em._

       *       *       *       *       *

    SUFFICIENTLY ANTIQUE.--Said TOMKINS, "I won't say my
    ancestors were in this Country before the Flood, _but_
    they came in with the High Tide."

       *       *       *       *       *

    [Illustration: THE ASSAULT!!]

       *       *       *       *       *

    [Illustration: TRIALS OF A CONVALESCENT.

    _Tompkins_ (_in a feeble voice, for the fourth or fifth
    time, with no result_). "CHAIRMAN!!! CHAIRMAN!!!"

    _That Awful Boy._ "LYDIES AND GENTLEMEN----!!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

A FYTTE OF THE BLUES.

BY AN OLD "CROCK."

    (_After reading the rattling verses of_ "Tis," _entitled
    "Good Luck!" in the "Granta."_)

  Good old _Granta_! They set the blood glowing,
    Your verse-grinder's galloping lines,
  There seems rare inspiration in Rowing!
    The Muse, who politely declines
  To patronise pessimist twitters,
    Has smiled on these stanzas, which smack
  Of health, honest zeal, foaming "bitters,"
    And vigour of brain and of back.

  Good luck to the Light Blues! That burden
    Befits rattling rhymes from the Cam,
  Their "movement" might rouse a Dame DURDEN,
    Or fire a cold victim of cram.
  Why it stirs up "old Crocks" to peruse 'em--
    Slashing lines on "a slashing octette"--
  They feel, though 'tis hard to "enthuse" 'em,
    There _must_ be some life in 'em yet.

  Old Crocks! Oh, exuberant younkers!
    You "guy" "the old gang" as "played out,"
  As fogies, and fussers, and funkers,
    You've over-much reason, no doubt.
  But, great Scott! as your rowing-rhymes rattle
    And lilt lyric praise of the Crews,
  We too sniff the air of the battle!
    We too have a Fit of the Blues.

  It's oh! just to "swing behind LEWIS,"
    A "youngster as strong as an ox"!
  Or be one who true Boss of the Crew is,--
    Your "pet Palinurus"--the Cox!
  To feel all the blood in one glowing,
    And--heedless of love, toil, and "tin"--
  Know naught in creation save--Rowing.
    Deems nothing worth much save--a WIN!

  Five minutes, my boys, of such feeling,
    When rivals look beaten and blown,
  When the nose of your ship is just stealing
    Ahead, when your muscles have grown
  To thews, that--_pro tem._--are Titanic,
    Are worth a whole year of _our_ lives,
  Whose waistbands are--well, Aldermanic,
    Who've wrinkles, and worries, and wives!

  Well, here's to the two tints of azure,
    The Dark Blue as well as the Light!
  At least there's one thing we can say sure,--
    There'll be no blue funk in their fight.
  And here's to the Bard of the _Granta_,
    Who sings without "side," "sniff," or "shop."
  May he live (if he wish it), to plant a
    Big bay on Parnassus's top!

       *       *       *       *       *

TIM O'HOWLIGAN'S LAMENT.

    AIR--"_Arrah! darlints, we can't do without ye!"_

  AH! shure boys, the world has gone crazy,
    And there's plinty of throuble in shtore,
  Ivery mornin' I wake up onaisy
    Bekase I can't shleep any more.
  'Twas CROMWELL, bad scran to 'im, done it,
    Him that murdhered King CHARLES, ochone!
  And since the black villin begun it
    Ould Erin's done nothing but groan,
                  And moan,
    It would soften the heart of a shtone.

  By the poker, I'm boilin' with passion
    Whin I think of the laws that they make;
  At a fair the bhoys heads ye can't smash in,
    Nor get dacently dhrunk at a wake.
  There's only twelve pince in a shillin',
    And not more than two pints in a quart,
  Onless you are cliver at fillin',
    And can make it hould more than it ought.
                  Don't be caught,
    Or, be jabers, they'll make you pay for't.

  Where's the kings and the princes of Erin
    That lived on purtaties and point,
  And niver saw year out and year in
    The divil a taste of a joint?
  Thim toirants now buy all our bacon,
    And the linen, and butther, and that,
  All that grows in the counthry is taken
    From Antrim to Mullinavat.
                  Poor Pat
    Has to sell at a profut, that's flat.

  Well, honies, I'll give ye a hint,
    And let ivery one do it who can;
  When the bag of thirteens is all spint,
    Set up for a Parliament man.
  Thim's the boys that gets lashins of drinkin',
    And they dine wanst a week wid the Queen,
  Where the glasses are niver done clinkin',
    Wid the Royalties jokin' and spreein',
                  Jubileein',
    And such doins as niver was seen.

       *       *       *       *       *

    A COMPLAINT AND SIMPLE REMEDY.--

    Among the Requests in our ecclesiastical contemporary,
    _The Guardian_, recently appeared one asking for an
    effectual way of "_exterminating dry rot, and preventing
    its re-appearance in a church_." Why doesn't the
    reverend inquirer try somebody else's Sermons? Or have
    no Sermons at all?

       *       *       *       *       *

    NOTHING more delights our old friend than to get hold of
    a real good word, and use it with effect. "I wish I knew
    what is going to win the Derby this year," observed her
    Niece. "Ah, my dear," replied her Aunt, "I might be able
    to tell you if I were a Vaccinator."

       *       *       *       *       *

    BEST DAY IN THE WEEK FOR MAKING A PROPOSAL OF
    MARRIAGE.--In London, Monday is the most appropriate, as
    being dedicated to the "Monday Pops."

       *       *       *       *       *

    [Illustration: _Mr. Moriarty._ "LOOK HERE, ADA, HOW MUCH
    LONGER, FOR GOODNESS' SAKE, ARE YE GOIN' TO BE DRESSIN'
    YOURSELF?"

    _Voice from the Heights._ "ONLY TEN MINUTES, DEAR!"

    _Mr. Moriarty._ "WELL, ALL I CAN SAY IS, IF I'VE GOT TO
    WAIT HERE TEN MINUTES, I'LL--I'LL BE OFF THIS BLESSED
    MOMENT!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

    [Illustration: "SCENES IN THE LOBBY."

    DESIGN FOR OUR OWN HISTORICAL PAINTER.]

       *       *       *       *       *

ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.

EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M.P.

_House of Commons, Monday, March 6._--"The SPEAKER took the Chair at
three o'clock." That is an extract from the _Journals of the House_, a
fascinating literary work, ably edited by Mr. PALGRAVE with the
assistance of Mr. MILMAN, much in favour at MUDIE'S. Last time I saw
SPEAKER rise from Chair was Banquet at Mansion House given by way of
farewell to M. WADDINGTON. Very remarkable scene it was. In ordinary
times SPEAKER of House of Commons is personally unknown to outside
public. He takes no part in debate; never goes on Midlothian Campaigns;
belongs to no faction; has no political following; and should have no
enemy. British public, regarding with close attention the fascinating
arena at Westminster, have evidently formed clear opinion of its present
President. When list of guests whom LORD MAYOR delighted to honour read
out by Toastmaster, name of SPEAKER received with enthusiastic and
prolonged applause. House of Commons men present, of whom there was
large muster, evidently taken by surprise. They know the SPEAKER,
because they daily live with him. How outside public should have been
seized with such keen appreciation of his worth was more than they were
prepared for.

This may have been, probably was, to some extent a _succès d'estime_.
Mr. PEEL'S speech was genuine triumph; very brief, the shortest of the
series, but incomparably the best; lofty in tone, perfect in delivery,
saying just the right thing at the right moment in the right way. Its
effect at Mansion House something like that which electrified House when
Mr. PEEL, standing on steps of Chair, faced it for first time as its
SPEAKER, revealing, even to those who had known him long, the full
depths of his nature and the towering height of his capacity.

"_Mon Dieu_, TOBEE," said an eminent Frenchman, "the world in both
hemispheres has always envied you the possession of your House of
Commons. Now we know you have a Speaker worthy of its best traditions."

Banquet a great success; certainly the most brilliant galaxy of guests
drawn together in same place since Mr. PHELPS, the American Minister,
said farewell in memorable speech. Much struck with completeness of
arrangements. Even the waiters imbued with consciousness of great
occasion.

"Hope you enjide your dinner, Sir?" said one to me, when dessert placed
on table.

"Excellent," I said; "perhaps the whitebait done a little too much;
showed tendency to present itself in fragments; but 'twas nothing."

"Yessir," said the Waiter, diligently brushing off imaginary crumbs.
"I'm going now, Sir."

"Ah," I said; "then I suppose you don't wait to hear the speeches; flow
of reason, you know, quite a treat."

"Yessir," said he, still pegging away at the spotless table-cloth. "Can
I get you anything more, Sir?"

"No, thank you," I said, quite touched at the man's considerate
attention, the more marked since, as far as I recognised him, I had not
seen him before. "I've done excellently."

"Yessir. I'm going now." Hardly seemed able to part. Not sure whether,
in circumstances of international amity, I shouldn't have shaken hands
with him. Made half advance in that direction. He quickly advanced his
hand, but after glance at my extended palm, as rapidly withdrew it.
Perhaps he was right. Not usual to shake hands with Waiter, though
really, on occasion like this, one might disregard conventionalities.
Waiter lingeringly withdrew, still keeping his eye on me, as if
expecting me to call him back. Nodded a friendly farewell, and pensively
peeled an orange, thinking how one touch of nature makes us kin. This
good Waiter and I quite subdued by the graceful, generous thought of
Lord Mayor KNILL, who has added one more link to the chain that binds in
amity two nations that have fought all the way from Cressy to Waterloo.

_Business done._--Got into Committee on Navy Estimates. In the Lobby
sort of rehearsal of new Battle of Boyne. The other night SAUNDERSON
said something disrespectful of Irish Members. WILLIE REDMOND, from his
proud position among nobility and gentry above Gangway, called out, "You
wouldn't say that in the Lobby." "Say it anywhere," responded the
Colonel, ever ready to oblige.

Next day wrote letter to REDMOND, incidentally mentioning that if he
wanted to hear the words over again, should meet him in Lobby to-night
after questions. Nothing nearer REDMOND'S heart's desire. At five
o'clock Colonel, accompanied by another military gentleman, carrying his
cloak, a pair of pistols, a stiletto, a bottle of _eau de Cologne_, a
sponge, and a clothes-brush, sternly strode into Lobby. Carefully
counted paces till he was standing as nearly as possible on centre tile;
folded arms, and wished that Night or REDMOND would come. Colonel
WARING, with military accoutrements and cloak; stood a pace and a half
to the left rear. Presently entered REDMOND, accompanied by J. J.
O'KELLY, also carrying cloak. Secreted in folds were shillelagh, bottle
of whiskey, pair of spurs, a toothpick, and a freshly-minted
crown-piece. This last, at suitable moment, to be flung across Lobby;
(friend secretly told off to be on alert to pick it up.) Action to be
explained as typical of throwing King's Crown into the Boyne. The
principals approaching, REDMOND, after manner of schoolboys, who edge up
to each other, each hoping the other doesn't want to fight, asked
Colonel to "say it again." "Certainly; but say what?" Here difficulty
began, which spoiled whole business. REDMOND insisted upon being called
a murderer. SAUNDERSON punctilious on minor points, wouldn't go quite so
far in his desire to oblige. Angry altercation followed; Members, to
number of something like hundred, formed ring. REDMOND, with right
shoulder aggressively hoisted, spoke over it at the Colonel. Colonel
stood erect, with hands loosely hanging by his side, ready for
emergencies. Crowd grew thicker and more excited. "Expected every moment
would be our next," as CLANCY breathlessly put it. But in the end storm
blew itself out. Nothing happened, and crowd disappointedly dispersed.

  Ulster will fight,
  But----_not to-night._

_Thursday._--Opposition mustered to-day in high spirits; meeting at
Carlton yesterday addressed by MARKISS and Prince ARTHUR; GRANDOLPH,
looking in, took back seat in his customary retiring fashion. Meeting
insisted on his coming to the front; made spirited speech; scarcely a
dry eye in the Club when, looking shyly across at Prince ARTHUR, he
alluded to him as his "old political friend," his "brilliant and
esteemed Parliamentary Leader."

"I think," said the MARKISS, as meeting dispersed, "this will drive nail
in coffin of Home-Rule Bill, and make things pretty hot for Mr. G. As
HART DYKE epigrammatically puts it, 'We Unionists, above all others,
should be united.'"

This, as I mentioned, happened yesterday. This afternoon Opposition
mustered in anticipation of aggressive action by Mr. G. Had given notice
to move suspension of Twelve o'Clock Rule, in order to make progress
with Estimates.

"Not if we know it," said Right Hon. JAMES LOWTHER, commonly called
"JEMMIE."

Mr. G., previous to moving Resolution, explained there was no intention
of sitting late; Suspension Standing Order was matter of precaution
designed to prevent arbitrary carrying over of Amendments when
adequately discussed. Prince ARTHUR'S keen eye discerned that this might
be so construed as to convey no advantage to Government. When twelve
o'clock came Debate might be diverged on to lines of wrangle round
Question of Adjournment, and so House up and nothing done. On this
understanding he declared he would not resist Motion of Leader of House.
Then JEMMIE, rushing to the front, made the running. Did Mr. G. intend,
in any case, to take Second Reading of Home-Rule Bill on Thursday next?
Mr. G. nodded assent. "Very well, then I'll divide against you," JEMMIE
roared across the pained figure of his esteemed Leader. Not to be moved
by blandishment or argument from this position. Prince ARTHUR, seeing
matters hopeless, haughtily strode forth, GRANDOLPH loyally accompanying
him. But more than half his old colleagues stayed behind with JEMMIE
LOWTHER who got Opposition soundly beaten by majority of 85.

"There's only one thing we want to run our majority over 100," said
SQUIRE OF MALWOOD, smiling beneficently from Treasury Bench. "Another
meeting of the Party at the Carlton Club will do it."

"What did you mean by to-night's performance?" I asked JEMMIE, later.

"Mean? I meant business. I'm a little tired of lurking in background
seeing men come to front who haven't half my ability, political acumen,
or Parliamentary knowledge. I intend to have a Party of my own. There
has been a Fourth Party, and before that there was a Tea-room Party, and
a Cave of Adullam. I shall eclipse them all."

"And under what name do you think history will know your faction?" I
asked, much interested.

The Right Hon. took up a piece of paper, and on it wrote the words,
"LOWTHER'S ARCADE."

_Business done._--WOLMER'S Amendment on the Navy Estimates negatived.

_Friday._--Prince ARTHUR, and Statesman to whom AUSTEN CHAMBERLAIN
distantly alludes as "My Right Hon. friend," sit separated by width of
House. But, in assaults on Government, they are not divided. Idle
stories about differences of opinion arising between them quite
unnecessarily denied.

"I never look at them," said TREVELYAN, "without recalling to mind a
passage in what is, I think, my favourite among DICKENS'S novels. You
remember the scene in _Great Expectations_, where _Joe Gargery_ visits
_Pip_, in his day of prosperity, in London? 'Ever best of friends,' says
JOE (CHAMBERLAIN). 'Dear JOE,' says Prince ARTHUR. 'You know, PIP,' says
JOE, 'as you and me were ever friends, and it were looked forrerd to
betwixt us as bein' calc'lated to lead to larks.'"

The expectation not lacking of past fulfilment; full of promise in days
near at hand.

_Business done._--Sat from two to seven discussing whether we shall sit
to-morrow in order to make progress with public business. Finally
decided we shall. Meanwhile, morning sitting slipped away.

    [Illustration: "GREAT EXPECTATIONS."

    ["As persistent attempts are being made to show that Mr.
    BALFOUR and Mr. CHAMBERLAIN are at variance respecting
    the tactics which should be adopted by the Unionist
    Party in Opposition, we may state that more thorough
    accord never existed than at the present moment."--_The
    Times, March 8, 1893._]

    _Gargery Chamberlain._ "You know, PIP, as you and me
    were ever the best of Friends!"

    _Balfour Pip._ "Dear JO!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

VINO ITALIANO CON TEMPERANZA.--Signor VITALI, of the
Italian-Wine-in-England Mission, writes to us to say that Sir WILFRID
LAWSON might temper his favourite beverage of _Aqua Pura_ with half a
gallon flask of _Vinum Purum Italianum_, such as Chianti, and he would
be none the worse for it. We are inclined to agree with the Signor
VITALI, as, in our opinion, there is small likelihood of any Italian
wine-drinker "getting any forrader." Of course Signor VITALI, being
somewhat interested in the matter, and therefore, most hopeful that his
enterprise will result in orders for any number of flasks, and not end
in an empty _fiasco_, would not fail to point out that Italian wine is
likely to have a prolonged existence in this country, as it is not
lacking in Vitali-ty.

       *       *       *       *       *

TONE AND TINT.--(By a Wearer of the Green.)

  YOUR Orangeman swears--he's a terrible fellow!--
  They shan't set the Green o'er his favourite Yellow.
  His shout's "No surrender!" And is he so Green
  As to think we'll turn Yellow because of his spleen?
  No, no! He may vow in his last ditch he'll die,
  But--we're not to be scared by a _Hue_ and a _Cry_!