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  PUNCH,

  OR, THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

  VOLUME 98.

  MAY 3, 1890.

       *       *       *       *       *

MR. PUNCH'S MORAL MUSIC-HALL DRAMAS.

[Illustration]

No. X.--TOMMY AND HIS SISTER JANE.

Once more we draw upon our favourite source of inspiration--the poems of
the Misses TAYLOR. The dramatist is serenely confident that the new
London County Council Censor of Plays, whenever that much-desired
official is appointed, will highly approve of this little piece on
account of the multiplicity of its morals. It is intended to teach,
amongst other useful lessons, that--as the poem on which it is founded
puts it--"Fruit in lanes is seldom good"; also, that it is not always
prudent to take a hint; again, that constructive murder is distinctly
reprehensible, and should never be indulged in by persons who cannot
control their countenances afterwards. Lastly, that suicide may often be
averted by the exercise of a little _savoir vivre._

CHARACTERS.

_Tommy and his Sister Jane (Taylorian Twins, and awful examples)._

_Their Wicked Uncle (plagiarised from a forgotten Nursery Story, and
slightly altered)._

_Old Farmer Copeer (skilled in the use of horse and cattle medicines)._

SCENE--_A shady lane; on the right, a gate, leading to the farm; left,
some bushes, covered with practicable scarlet berries._

_Enter the_ Wicked Uncle, _stealthily_.

_The W. U._ No peace of mind I e'er shall know again
  Till I have cooked the geese of TOM and JANE!
  But--though a naughty--I'm a nervous nunky,
  For downright felonies I feel too funky!
  I'd hire assassins--but of late the villains
  Have raised their usual fee to fifteen shillin's!
  Nor, to reduce their rates, will they engage
  (_Sympathetically_) For two poor orphans who are under age!
  So (as I'd give no more than half a guinea)
  I must myself get rid of TOM and JENNY.
  Yet, like an old soft-hearted fool, I falter,
  And can't make up my mind to risk a halter.
  (_Looking off_). Ha, in the distance, JANE and little TOM I see!
  These berries--(_meditatingly_)--why, it only needs diplomacy.
  Ho-ho, a most ingenious experiment!

    [_Indulges in silent and sinister mirth, as_ JANE
    _and_ TOM _trip in, and regard him with
    innocent wonder_.

_Jane._ Uncle, what is the joke? why all this
  merriment?

_The W. U. (in guilty confusion)._ Not merriment,
  my loves--a trifling spasm--
  Don't be alarmed--your Uncle often has 'em!
  I'm feeling better than I did at first--
  You're looking flushed, though not, I hope, with
  thirst?   [_Insidiously._

SONG, BY THE WICKED UNCLE.

  The sun is scorching overhead: the roads are dry and dusty;
  And here are berries, ripe and red, refreshing when you're _thusty_!
  They're hanging just within your reach, inviting you to clutch them!
  But--as your Uncle--I beseech you won't attempt to touch them?

_Tommy and Jane (dutifully)._ We'll do whatever you beseech, and
    not attempt to touch them!    [_Annoyance of_ W. U.

_The W. U._ Temptation (so I've understood) a child, in order kept, shuns;
  And fruit in lanes is seldom good (with several exceptions).
  However freely you partake, it can't--as you are young--kill,
  But should it cause a stomach-ache--well, don't you blame your Uncle!

_Tommy and Jane._ No, should it cause a stomach-ache, we will not blame our
    Uncle!

_The W. U. (aside)._ They'll need no further personal assistance,
  But take the bait when I am at a distance.
  I could not, were I paid a thousand ducats,
  (_With sentiment_) Stand by, and see them kick their little buckets,
  Or look on while their sticks this pretty pair cut!    [_Stealing off._

_Tommy._ What, Uncle, going?

_The W. U. (with assumed jauntiness)._ Just to get my hair cut!   [_Goes._

_Tommy (looking wistfully at the berries)._ I say, they _do_ look nice,
  JANE, such a lot too!

_Jane (demurely)._ Well, TOMMY, Uncle never told us _not_ to.

    [_Slow music; they gradually approach the berries, which they
    pick and eat with increasing relish, culminating in a dance
    of delight._

_Duet_--TOMMY _and_ JANE (_with step-dance._)

_Tommy (dancing, with his mouth full)._ These berries ain't so
  bad--although they've far too much acidity.

_Jane (ditto)._ To me, their only drawback is a dash of insipidity.

_Tommy (rudely)._ But, all the same, you're wolfing 'em with
  wonderful avidity!

_Jane (indignantly)._ No, that I'm not, so _there_ now!

_Tommy (calmly)._ But you _are_!

_Jane._ And so are _you_!

    [_They retire up, dancing, and eat more berries--after which
    they gaze thoughtfully at each other._

_Jane._ This fruit is most refreshing--but it's curious how it cloys
  on you!

_Tommy (with anxiety)._ I wonder why all appetite for dinner it
  destroys in you!

_Jane._ Oh, TOMMY, you are half afraid you've ate enough to poison
  you?

_Tommy._ No, _that_ I'm not--so there now! &c., &c.

    [_They dance as before._

 _Tommy._ JANE, _is_ your palate parching up in horrible aridity?

_Jane._ It is, and in my throat's a lump of singular solidity.

_Tommy._ Then that is why you're dancing with such pokerlike rigidity.

    [_Refrain as before: they dance with decreasing spirit, and
    finally stop, and fan one another with their hats._

_Jane._ I'm better now that on my brow there is a little breeziness.

_Tommy._ My passing qualm is growing calm, and tightness turns to easiness.

_Jane._ You seem to me tormented by a tendency to queasiness?

    [_Refrain; they attempt to continue the dance--but
    suddenly sit down side by side._

_Jane (with a gasp)._ I don't know what it is--but,
  oh, I _do_ feel so peculiar!

_Tommy (with a gulp)._ I've tumults taking place within that I may say
  unruly are.

_Jane._ Why, TOMMY, you are turning green--you really and you _truly_ are!

_Tommy._ No, _that_ I'm not, so _there_ now!

_Jane._ But you _are_!

_Tommy._ And so are _you_!

    [_Melancholy music; to which_ TOMMY _and_ JANE, _after a few convulsive
    movements, gradually become inanimate. Enter old Farmer_ COPEER _from
    gate, carrying a large bottle labelled "Cattle Medicine."_

_Farmer C._ It's time I gave the old bay mare
  her drench.    [_Stumbles over the children._
  What's here? A lifeless lad!--and little wench!
  Been eatin' berries--where did they get _them_ idees?
  For cows, when took so, I've the reg'lar remedies.
  I'll try 'em here--and if their state the worse is,
  Why, they shall have them balls I give my 'erses!

        [_Carries the bodies off just before the W. U. re-enters._

_W. U._ The children--gone? yon bush of berries less full!
  Hooray, my little stratagem's successful!

        [_Dances a triumphant pas seul. Re-enter Farmer C._

_Farmer C._ Been looking for your little niece and nephew?

_The W. U._ Yes, searching for them everywhere--

_Farmer C. (ironically)._ Oh, _hev'_ you?
  Then let me tell you, from all pain they're free, Sir.

_The W. U. (falling on his knees)._ _I_ didn't poison them--it wasn't _me_,
  Sir!

_Farmer C._ I thought as much--a constable I'll run for.   [_Exit._

_The W. U._ My wretched nerves again! _this_ time I'm done for!
  Well, though I'm trapped and useless all disguise is,
  My case shall ne'er come on at the Assizes!
        [_Rushes desperately to tree and crams himself with the remaining
        berries, which produce an almost instantaneous effect.
        Re-enter_ TOM _and_ JANE _from gate, looking pale and limp.
        Terror of the_ Wicked Uncle _as he turns and recognises them._

_The W. U. (with tremulous politeness)._ The shades of JANE and
  TOMMY, I presume?    [_Re-enter Farmer C._

_Jane and Tommy (pointing to Farmer C.)_ His Cattle Mixtures snatched us
from the Tomb!

_The W. U. (with a flicker of hope)._ Why, then the selfsame drugs will
ease my torments!

_Farmer C. (chuckling.)_ Too late! they've drunk the lot, the little
vormints!

_The W. U. (bitterly)._ So out of life I must inglorious wriggle,
  Pursued by TOMMY'S grin, and JENNY'S giggle!

        [_Dies in great agony, while_ TOMMY, JANE, _and_ Farmer COPEER
        _look on with mixed emotions as the Curtain falls_.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: RECIPROCAL HOSPITALITY.

_First Distinguished Colonist._ "BY THE WAY, HAVE YOU SEEN ANYTHING OF
THAT NICE YOUNG FELLOW, LORD LIMPET, SINCE YOU CAME TO LONDON--THE MAN
WHO STAYED WITH YOU SO MANY MONTHS AT YOUR STATION LAST YEAR?"

_Second Ditto, Ditto._ "OH YES! I MET HIM THE OTHER NIGHT AT LADY
BOVRIL'S RECEPTION, AND HE KINDLY BESTOWED UPON ME THE UNUSED HALF OF A
SMILE WHICH HE HAD PUT TOGETHER FOR A PASSING DUKE!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

THE NEW DANCE OF DEATH.

  "Starving to make a British holiday"--
  And plump his pockets with the _gobemouches'_ pay!
  A pretty picture, full of fine humanity
  And creditable to the public sanity!
  "Sensation" is a most despotic master.
  First HIGGINS and then SUCCI! Fast and faster
  The flood of morbid sentiment rolls on.
  Lion-kings die, and the Sword-swallower's gone
  The way of all such horrors, slowly slain
  By efforts to please curious brutes, for gain.
  What next, and next? Stretch some one on the rack
  And let him suffer publicly. 'Twill pack
  The show with prurient pryers, and draw out
  The ready shillings from the rabble rout
  Of well-dressed quidnuncs, frivolous and fickle
  Who'll pay for aught that their dull sense will tickle.
  Look on, crass crowd; your money freely give
  To see Sensation's victims die to live;
  For Science knows, and says beneath her breath,
  That this "Fast Life" (like other sorts) means Death!

       *       *       *       *       *

RESOLUTIONS FOR THE COSMOPOLITAN LABOUR MEETING.

(_Compiled with due regard to the International Idiosyncrasies._)

_French._--That France contains the World, and Paris France.

_Belgium._--That on the whole, the Slave Trade should be discouraged, as
it cannot be made to yield more than a safe 7 per cent.

_Germany._--That the best way of showing love for the Fatherland is to
live in every other part of the universe.

_Spain._--That it will be for the benefit of mankind to exterminate the
Portuguese.

_Portugal._--That the interests of civilisation will be advanced by the
annihilation of the Spanish.

_Russian._--That dynamite literally raises not only the mansions of the
nobles, but betters the homes of those who have been serfs.

_British._--That the equality of man is proved by the fact that one
Englishman is worth a dozen foreigners.

_American._--That everybody (except citizens of the U.S.A.) pay half a
dollar to the Treasurer right off the reel slick away, and that the sum
so collected be equally divided amongst those present.

       *       *       *       *       *

MR. PUNCH'S DICTIONARY OF PHRASES.

SOCIAL.

"_Yes; it is a sovereign you owe me--but any time will do_;" _i.e._, "If
he has the least spark of honour he'll pay me now."

"_Never saw you looking better! Magnificent colour!_" _i.e._, "Evidently
ripening for apoplectic fit."

"_Pray bring your friend_;" _i.e._, "Doesn't he know how overcrowded my
rooms are already?"

"_To be perfectly candid_;" _i.e._, "Not sorry to rub it in."

JOURNALISTIC.

"_As yet nothing has transpired_;" _i.e._, The reporter was too late to
obtain any information.

"_Detective Inspector Muggins is actively pursuing his inquiries_;"
_i.e._, Reporter thinks it as well to keep in with MUGGINS, who may be
useful in future.

EPISTOLATORY.

"_In great haste_;" _i.e._, "Must make some excuse for scrappiness."

"_We were all so shocked at hearing of your sad bereavement_;" _i.e._,
"None of us knew her but myself, and _I_ thought her a Cat!"

AT A DANCE.

"_Let me get you a partner, Mr.--'er--'er Smith_;" _i.e._, "He'll do for
dowdy Miss JONES, who has only danced once the whole night."

"_Shall we take a turn round now?_" _i.e._, "She can't waltz any more
than a crane, and parading is better than hopping."

"_Not dancing to-night, Mr. Sprawle? Now, that's very naughty of you,
with so many nice girls here_;" _i.e._, "What an escape for the nice
girls!"

A LITTLE MUSIC.

"_I_ hope _you brought your Music with you, dear_;" _i.e._, "If _only_
she had left it in the cab!"

"_I would with pleasure, but I've such a shocking cold that really,
&c._;" _i.e._, "I want a little more pressing, and then I'll come out
strong, and astonish them, I fancy."

"_Oh do! We have been looking forward to your Banjo-solo all the
evening_;" _i.e._, "With horror!"

CURIOMANIA, ETC.

"_How delightful it must be to have such a hobby!_" _i.e._, "Thank
heavens, I am not so afflicted!"

"_It must have cost you a heap of money_;" _i.e._, "How he's been
'done'!"

"_What a wonderful collection of pictures you have here!_" _i.e._, "Must
say something. Wouldn't give ten pounds for the lot."

RAILROAD AMENITIES.

"_So glad you got into the same carriage. A little of your conversation
so lightens a long journey_;" _i.e._, "He'll talk my head off, and
render a nap impossible."

"_Would you like to look at the papers?_" _i.e._, "May keep her tongue
still for a few minutes."

       *       *       *       *       *

The Busy "B."

    [Mr. BANCROFT has just settled one theatrical difference, and now he
    is engaged on a "far more delicate matter"; i.e., a dispute between
    a Manager and an Actor.]

  How doth the little busy "B"
    Employ each leisure hour?

  By arbitrating all the day
    With great dramatic power.

       *       *       *       *       *

EXTREMES MEET.--"_The Darkies' Africa_" is an Eastern entertainment at
Weston's Music Hall.

       *       *       *       *       *

Couldn't Slander and Libel causes be appropriately heard in Sir JAMES
HANNEN'S Admiralty Court, as "Running Down Cases?"

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: THE CHEAP FARES.

_Passengers._ "WE'RE FULL--THERE'S NO ROOM!"

_Conductor._ "WE MUST MAKE ROOM FOR 'ER. THERE'S ROOM FOR ONE ON THE
NEAR SIDE 'ERE. B'SIDES YOU'RE ALL SHORT PENN'ORTHS, AND SHE'S A
FOURPENN'ORTH--GOES THE WHOLE WAY!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

"THE PROMISE OF MAY."

(_As the Proletariat paints it._)

    "Since it is incredible that the economic balance can be universally
    disturbed by local changes, and always in one direction, we must
    assume a kind of moral contagion as an efficient agent in the
    wide-spread demand for a revision, of wages and hours of labour.
    Identical theories and demands, preferred simultaneously in Austria,
    Germany, France, England, and America, must be largely due to the
    force of example operating through the modern facility of
    communication. A universal movement in favour of shorter hours would
    seem best fitted to secure the amelioration of the labourer's
    lot."--_The Times._

_Enthusiastic Operative to his Bench-Mate, loquitur:--_

  We must wake and turn out early, bright and early, comrade dear;
  To-morrow'll be the biggest day of all the sad New Year;
  Of all the sad New Year, mate, the biggest, brightest day;
  For to-morrow's the First of May, chummy, to-morrow's _our_ First of May.

  There'll be many a dark, dark eye, chummy, by Thames, and Seine, and
    Rhine,
  There'll be SALISBURY, and CARNOT, and _Caprivi_ to peak and pine.
  For there'll be a stir of the Labourer in every land, they say,
  And Toil's to be Queen o' this May, chummy, Toil's to be Queen o' _this_
    May.

  I do sleep sound at night, chummy, but to-morrow morn I'll wake;
  The Cry of the Crowd will sound aloud in my ear ere dawn shall break.
  'Twill muster with its booming bands and with its banners gay;
  For to-morrow's the Feast of May, brother, to-morrow's our Feast of May.

  They've kept us scattered till now, comrade; but that no more may be:
  Our shout goes up in unison by Thames, Seine, Rhine and Spree.
  We are not the crushed-down crowd, chummy, we were but yesterday.
  We're full of the Promise o' May, brother, mad with the Promise of May!

  They thought us wandering ghosts, brother. Divided strength is slight;
  But what will they say when our myriads assemble in banded might?
  They call us craven-hearted, but what matter what they say?
  They'll know on the First o' May, brother; they'll learn on the First
        o' May.

  They say ours is a dying cause, but that can never be:
  There's many a heart as bold as TELL'S in the New Democracy.
  There's many a million of stalwart lads who toil for poorish pay;
  And they'll meet on the First o' May, brother, they'll speak on the
        First o' May.

  The tramp of a myriad feet shall sound where the young Spring grass is
        green,
  Yon Emperor young shall hear, brother, and so shall our gracious QUEEN,
  For Labour's hosts to all civic centres shall gather from far away;
  The Champs de Mars shall greet Hyde Park on this glorious First o' May.

  The lime is budding forth, brother, lilac our cot embowers,
  And the meadows soon shall be a-scent with the snowy hawthorn flowers;
  But a bonnier sight shall be the tramping crowds in fustian grey,
  Flushed with the Promise o' May, brother, the new-born Promise o' May.

  A wind is with their march, brother, that threatens old claims of Class,
  And the grey Spring skies above them seem to brighten as they pass.
  Pray heaven there'll be no drop o' rain the whole of the live-long day,
  To sadden our First o' May, brother, to sadden our First o' May!

  The labourers of Paris, and the toilers of Berlin,
  Will throng to shout for shorter hours, homes happier, and more "tin."
  Why even the chilly Times, chummy, is almost constrained to say
  There is sense in our First o' May, chummy, hope from our First o' May.

  The Governments are a-gog, brother, _Figaro_ owns as much;
  Property quakes when the countless hands of Labour are in touch.
  And from Bermondsey to Budapest they are in touch to-day,
  Linked for the Feast of May, brother, linked for the Feast of May!

  So we must wake and turn out early, bright and early, comrade, dear;
  To-morrow'll be the grandest day of all the green New Year;
  To-morrow'll be of all the year the maddest merriest day,
  For Toil's to be Queen o' the May, brother. Labour is Queen 'o _this_
        May!

       *       *       *       *       *

MODERN TYPES.

(_By Mr. Punch's Own Type-writer._)

No. X.--THE MARTYR _INCOMPRISE_.

[Illustration]

The Martyr _Incomprise_ is one who, having in her home erected a stake,
ties to it her husband, and then having set alight the faggots which her
own hands have piled round him, calls the world to witness the
saint-like fortitude with which she bears up under the sufferings
inflicted upon her by her lord and master. She will have been married to
a man who, though he does not pretend to be above the ordinary frailties
and failings of human nature, tries honestly, for many years, to make
her happy. Time after time does this domestic Sisyphus roll the stone of
contentment up the hill of his wife's temper, and time after time does
it slip from his hands, and go clattering down into the plain of
despair. The Martyr is a very virtuous lady, yet she is not satisfied
with the calm and acknowledged possession of her virtues. She adds them
to her armoury of aggravation, and uses them with a deadly effect. Her
morality is irreproachable. She studies to make it a reproach to her
husband, and, inasmuch as her temper is equally compounded of the most
persistent obstinacy, and the most perverse and unaccountable caprices,
it is unnecessary to say that she succeeds marvellously in her
undertaking.

As a girl, the Martyr will have been distinguished by a keen sense of
wrong, and a total lack of all sense of humour. Having been rebuked by
her mother for some trifling fault, she will persuade herself that her
parents detest her, and desire her death. She will spend the next few
days with her breast luxuriously against the thorn of her fancied
sufferings. She will weave romances, in order to enjoy the delicious
sensation of looking on as she withers under injustice into a premature
coffin, and of watching her cruel parents as they water the grave of
their victim with unavailing tears. A somewhat lax method of bringing up
will have enabled her to read many trashy novels. Out of these she
constructs an imaginary hero, all gushing tenderness and a tawny
moustache. Having met a young man who fully realises her ideal in the
latter particular, she promptly assumes his possession of the former,
and accepts his proposal of marriage. After having all but thrown him
over on three or four occasions for an insufficient display of romantic
devotion at dances and tennis parties, she eventually marries him. Soon
afterwards she discovers that he is not a chivalrous wind-bag, but a
Man, whereupon she shatters his pedestal, and abandons herself to misery
amidst the ruins.

And now the full joys of her married martyrdom begin. She withdraws even
from the affectation of interest in her partner, his friends and his
pursuits. She spends her mornings in the keeping of a diary, or the
writing of a novel, in which she appoints herself to the post of
heroine, and endows her creation with a superhuman combination of
unappreciated qualities. From the fact that her husband spends a large
part of each day away from her, either in attending to his business or
in following a sport, she infers that he has ceased to love her. When he
returns in the evening, she locks herself into her room, and, having
thus assured to herself solitude, she converts it, by an easy process,
into the studied neglect of an unfeeling husband.

She now gathers round herself a select company of two or three female
friends, whom the easy good-nature of her husband permits to stay in his
house for months at a time. Into their sympathetic ears she pours the
story of her woes, and gradually organises them into a trained band of
disciplined conspirators, who make it their constant object to defend
the wife by thwarting the husband. They have their signs and their
pass-words. If the callous male, for the enjoyment of whose hospitality
they seem to gain an additional zest by affecting to despise and defy
him, should intimate at the dinner-table that he has ventured to make
some arrangement without consulting them, they will raise their
eyebrows, and look pityingly at the wife. She will inform them, in a
tone of convinced melancholy, that she has long suspected that she was
of no importance to any one, but that now she knows it for certain. She
will then tell her husband that, as she is no longer allowed to interest
herself in what he does, she has of course no opinion on the matter in
hand, and that, if she had one, she would never think of offering it
when she knows that all interference on her part is always so bitterly
resented. Her husband's temper having exploded in the orthodox marital
manner, she will smile sweetly upon him, and, the butler and footman
having entered with the fish, will implore him, in a voice intended
rather for the servants than for him, to moderate his anger, lest he
should set a bad example. She will then weep silently into her tumbler,
and her friends, after expressing a muttered indignation at the
heartlessness of men, will support her tottering steps from the room. If
her husband should invite one or two of his friends to dinner on a
subsequent occasion, she will amuse herself and madden him by recounting
to them this incident, in which she will figure as a suffering angel,
whose wings have moulted under the neglect and cruel treatment of an
unangelic spouse. If, while her story is in progress, she should observe
her husband writhing, she will inform him that she is sure he must be
sitting in a draught, and will order the butler to place a screen behind
him. Having thus called attention to his discomfort, and to the care
with which she watches over him, she will take offence when he
countermands the screen; and, after giving the company in general to
understand that she is not allowed to give orders in her own house, she
will, for the rest of the evening, preserve a death-like calm. This will
be followed, on the departure of her guests, by showers of tears and
reproaches, the inevitable prelude to twenty-four hours of salts and
seclusion in the privacy of her bed-room. It is curious to note that,
although the Martyr, at an early period of her married life, developes a
distaste for going into society, which she attributes to the persecution
of her husband; yet she always contrives to spend as much money as those
who live in a whirl of gaiety. Her bills, therefore, mount up, and, in a
moment of unguarded pecuniary prudence, her husband will remonstrate
mildly with her upon her extravagance. She will, thereupon, accuse him
to her friends of meanness, and avow her determination never again to
ask him for money. For a short time she will pay portions of her own
bills, but, finding her pin-money insufficient for the purpose, she will
sell some jewels, and spend the proceeds on a new tea-gown. Her
increasing liabilities will afford her no anxiety, seeing that her sense
of martyrdom increases in proportion, and that in her heart of hearts
she knows that her husband is prepared to pay everything, and will
eventually have to do so.

After some years of this life her husband will have acquired the
reputation of a domestic ruffian. Friends will shake their heads, and
wonder how long his sweet wife will bear up against his treatment. It
will be reported, on the authority of imaginary eye-witnesses, that he
has thrown a soup-plate at her, and that, on more than one occasion, he
has beaten her. He will find himself shunned, and will be driven for
society and pleasure to his bachelor haunts. His wife will now rage with
jealousy over a defection she has done her best to cause. After a time
she will hire the services of a detective, and will file a petition in
the Divorce Court. The case will probably be undefended, and the Court
having listened to her tale of cruelty, the imaginative boldness of
which will startle even the friend who corroborates it in the
witness-box, will decree to her a divorce from the supposed author of
her sufferings. She will then set up for a short time as an object of
universal pity, but, meeting a bluff and burly widower, she will accept
him as her second husband. After having wearied of her constant recital
of her former misery, this husband will begin to neglect and ill-use her
in good earnest. Under the tonic of this genuine shock, her spirits may
revive; and it is as likely as not that she will enjoy many years of
mitigated happiness as the wife of a real tyrant.

       *       *       *       *       *

MORE NOVELTIES.--Sir,--The Fasting Man seems to have been a great
success. Why shouldn't he be succeeded by The Stuffing Man, The Eating
Boy, and The Talking Man. The last of these would be backed to talk
incessantly on every possible subject for forty days. In the Recess,
what a chance for Mr. GLADSTONE, or, indeed, for any Parliamentary
orator, who, otherwise, would be on the stump! Instead of his going to
the Country, the Country, and London, too, would come to him. Big
business for Aquarium and for Talking Man. Then there would be The
Sneezing Man, The Smoking Man, The Singing Man, The Drinking Man, and so
forth. It's endless. I only ask for a per-centage on gate-money, and I
place the idea at the disposition of the Aquarium.

Yours,

  THE OTHER MAN.

       *       *       *       *       *

YET ANOTHER QUARTERLY.--_Subjects of the Day_--sounds like an Algerian
publication--is a quarterly review of current topics. The motto of this
new quarterly review of Messrs. ROUTLEDGE'S is "_Post Tenebras Lux_"
which, being freely translated, means, "after the heavy reviews this
comes as a little light reading!" Ahem! the subject of No. 1 is
Education, and to study the essays in this volume will keep any reader
well occupied till the appearance of No. 2.

       *       *       *       *       *

THE LEGEND OF THE BRIAR-ROOT.

(_Suggestion for companion subject to "The Briar Rose," by E.
Burne-Jones, A.R.A., now exhibiting at Messrs. Agnew & Sons' Gallery,
Bond Street._)

[Illustration:

THE BRIAR-WOOD PIPE. EFFECT ON THE SMOKERS.

  The fateful odour fumes and goes
  About the angle of the Nose.

THE BED-ROOM.

  They smoked and smoked a pipe a-piece:
  Thus did their drowsiness increase.

SHORT CUT THROUGH THE GARDEN.

  The Maidens thought the pipe to fill:
  They smoked, and now they all lie still.

THE NOSE BOWER. _LA BELLE PIPE-EN-BOIS DORMANT._

  _'Twas five o'clock, the hour of tea;
  But, having smoked, they're as you see_.]

       *       *       *       *       *

TIPS FROM THE TAPE.

(_Picked up in Mr. Punch's Own Special City Corner._)

EVER since it became known that, in conformity with the general interest
in the condition of the Stock and Share Market, now manifested by all
classes of readers, you had determined to start your own special
"Corner," for the purpose of keeping your eye on the matter, and had
appointed me as your "City Commissioner," if I have been flooded with
applications from Stock-jobbers, tendering their advice, I may say I
have been literally overwhelmed by applications from clients and
outsiders, asking me for mine. With five tapes always on the move,
telephonic communication with everywhere, and my telegraphic address of
"Panjimcracks," comfortably installed in a third-floor flat in
commanding premises, within a stone's throw of the Stock Exchange, I
flatter myself that, at least in all the surroundings of my position, I
am, acting under your instructions, well up to the mark.

You would wish naturally to know something of the state of the market,
and would doubtless like to hear from me, if there is any particular
investment that I can recommend as safe for a rise. I have been giving
some attention lately to

    PATAGONIAN CROCODILES,

but from news that has reached me from a private and most reliable
source (I hear that the Chairman and Directors, who have gone off with
the balance-sheet have disappeared, and have not been heard of for
months) I should strongly advise, if you hold any of it, to get rid of
it, if you can, as soon as possible. I have a similar tale to tell about

    HERNEBAY Z'S.

This Stock has been run up by purchasers for the fall; and, though in
October last it somehow touched 117-3/8, it is now standing at 9-1/4,
and, spite the rumours of increased traffic receipts (due to the fact
that a family drove up to the station last week in a cab), artfully put
into circulation by interested holders, I would certainly get out of it
before the issue of the forthcoming Report, which I hear, on good
authority, not only announces the payment of no dividend on the
Debenture Stock, but makes the unwelcome statement to the shareholders
of the prospective seizure of the whole of the rolling stock under a
debtors' summons, a catastrophe that must land the affairs of the
Company in inevitable bankruptcy. Under these circumstances, I do not
think I can conscientiously advise you to "hold;" still, you might watch
the Market for a day or two; but, at any rate, take my advice, and get
rid of your "Crocodiles."

I subjoin some of my correspondence:--

    DEAR SIR,--I am in the somewhat embarrassing position of being
    responsible for £5000 under the marriage settlement of a niece,
    that, owing to my want of financial knowledge, has, I fear, been
    somewhat injudiciously, if not absolutely, illegally invested by my
    Co-Trustee. Though the settlement stipulates that only Government
    Stocks and Railway Debentures are available, I find that the money
    at the present moment is thus disposed  of:--

                                      Purchasing  Present  Last
      Security.                       Price.      Price.   Div.

£1000 Kangaroo Copper Trust            193        13-1/8   None

 2000 Bursters' Patent Coffin Company  157         4       None

 1000 Battersea Gold Syndicate         235         7-1/2   None

  500 International Balloon Transit    170         Nil.    None

  500 Bolivian Spasmodics              194         9-1/8   None

You see it is not so much the depreciated value of the Securities, which
certainly read well, but the absence of the Dividend which perplexes me.
What would be your advice? Should I sell, or continue to hold?

    A PUZZLED TRUSTEE.

We should certainly hold.

    SIR,--Acting on the advice of a friend who is in the Directorate, I
    have largely invested in the Automatic Hair-cutting Company. Owing,
    however, to the fact that customers, who will not hold their heads
    properly, have on several occasions latterly had their ears trimmed,
    and a pattern cut on their necks, several actions for heavy damages
    have been brought against the concern. These having been successful
    in every case, the Company is virtually ruined, and the shares are,
    in consequence, almost unsaleable. What should I do with mine?

    AN ANXIOUS SPECULATOR.

Hold. The Company has evidently touched bottom. Wait for the rise.

You will see from the above specimens, taken at random from a heap of
others, that I utterly deprecate panic. "Never cut losses" is the
wholesome and cheerful advice I give all my clients. There cannot be a
doubt about it being thoroughly sound; for it stands to reason if no one
were to sell out, no securities would ever fall. So, to nine out of ten
who ask my advice I invariably say, "Hold." Though I have several stocks
in prospective, the movements of which I am watching most attentively, I
have, I confess, hardly got things into proper working order yet, but I
have a grand scheme on foot that will, I fancy, take the wind out of the
sails of many hitherto successful Stockdealers. In my new system
three-and-sixpence will cover £500! Here will be a chance for even the
schoolboy to taste the delights of Monte Carlo. But more of this later.
Suffice it to say, that I have a "Combination Pool" in my eye, that if I
can only carry out with the right sort of stock, ought to make the
fortune of every one concerned.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: Charles Wynd'em Up.]

THEATRICAL SHORT SERVICE BILL.--CHARLES THE SECOND (WYNDHAM) is
following in the footsteps of CHARLES THE FIRST (MATHEWS) and beginning
to play several short pieces as one entertainment, instead of giving a
three-act farce or comedy, and one brief and unimportant curtain-raiser.
At least, he is _Trying It On_. How far preferable, in the summer and
autumn season, would be an evening bill of fare consisting of three
_entrées_, each of a different character, and all of first-rate quality.
The patron of the drama could pick and choose, and be satisfied with an
hour, or two hours, or three hours' entertainment. How much better for
the actor's art, too, by way of varying his _rôles_. The stall people
would rather pay the present price of half a guinea for anything,
however short, which it was the fashion to see, than for a long piece
which only bores them. To see short pieces, they might come two or three
times instead of once, and the management could make a reduction on
taking a quantity.

There is a small fortune waiting for this CHARLES, or t'other CHARLES,
'yclept HAWTREY, whichever may take up the idea and work it.

  AUDI MAGISTRUM PUNCHIUM.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: WINDOW STUDIES.

THE STRUGGLE FOR LIFE. (THREE CAB-RUNNERS AFTER ONE SMALL PORTMANTEAU.)]

       *       *       *       *       *

STANLEY AFRICANUS!

_Mr. Punch loquitur:--_

  "MR. STANLEY, I presume!" Well, the crowd will fuss and fume,
    From the mob you'll get, no doubt, a noisy greeting:;
  But I'm pleased to take your hand on the threshold of the land;
    This is truly a most gratifying meeting!
  Nay, no need for you to blush, for I am not going to gush
    There are plenty who'll indulge in fuss and flummery.
  Heroes like to be admired, but you'll probably be tired
    Of tall-talk ere this spring greenery shows summery.
  "An illustrious pioneer," says the Belgian King. 'Tis clear
    That at any rate you've earned that appellation.
  True words tell, though tattlers twist 'em, and a "mighty fluvial system"
    You have opened up no doubt to civilisation.
  Spreading tracts of territory 'tis your undisputed glory
    To have footed for the first time (save by savages),
  The result will be that Trade will there supersede the raid
    Of the slaver, and the ruthless chieftain's ravages.
  That is useful work well done, and it hasn't been all fun,
    As you found in that huge awful tract of forest,
  And you must have felt some doubt of your chance of winning out
    Of all perils when your need was at the sorest.
  Mortal sickness now and then, and the pranks of lesser men,
    Must have tried your iron health and steely temper.
  But, like SCIPIO of old, you 're as patient as you're bold,
    And you turn up tough and timely, _idem semper_!

  STANLEY AFRICANUS! Yes, that's a fitting name, I guess,
    For as stout a soul as PUBLIUS CORNELIUS;
  And now, probably, there's no man will not dub you "noblest Roman,"
    Though you once had many a foeman contumelious.
  Have them still? Oh yes, no doubt; but just now they'll scarce speak out
    In a tone to mar the laudatory chorus:
  Though when once they've had a look, HENRY mine, in your Big Book,
    They with snips, and snaps, and snarls, are sure to bore us.
  Well, that will not matter much if you only keep in touch
    With all that is humane, and wise, and manly.
  Your time has been well spent in that huge Dark Continent,
    And all England's word to-day is, "Welcome, STANLEY!"

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: STANLEY AFRICANUS!

MR. PUNCH (_saluting_). "MR. STANLEY, I PRESUME!"]

       *       *       *       *       *

OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.

In his _By Order of the Czar_ Mr. JOSEPH HATTON exposes the cruelties of
Muscovite rule in the most trenchant yet entertaining fashion. The
headings to the chapters (to say nothing of their contents) are exciting
to a degree, and consequently it is not altogether surprising that the
Russian officials, possibly hearing that the three handsome volumes
might cause a revolution, should have refused them admission to the
Emperor's dominions. Be this as it may, in each of the aforesaid
handsome volumes appears a slip of yellow paper, announcing that "it is
prohibited by the Government of the CZAR from circulation in Russia."
How fortunate--not, of course, for the Russians, poor things, to be
deprived of this treat--but how fortunate that it is not prohibited
_here_! With Mr. JOSEPH HATTON continuously in his thoughts, the BARON
has sung ever since--not only "_In the Gloaming_," be it understood, but
during the following day, and well into the succeeding night--"_Best_
for him (J. H), _and best_ for me (B. DE B. W.)." The novel should have
a large general circulation, in spite of the boycotting to which it has
been locally subjected in St. Petersburg, Moscow, and Siberia.

Miss JEANIE MIDDLEMASS has made a step in the right direction by
publishing _Two False Moves_. Like all her work, the new novel is deeply
interesting. As it is full of "go," it is sure to be continually on the
march in the circulating libraries.

In _Miss Mephistopheles_, Mr. FEARGUS HUME gives us a story much in
advance of _The Mystery of a Hansom Cab_. It is better in construction,
its character sketches are more life-like, and its literary style is
superior--therefore there is every chance of its not being so successful
with the general public.

  BARON DE BOOK-WORMS & CO.

       *       *       *       *       *

COURT NAPPING.

MRS. WOOD can't expect to be always the lucky possessor of a _Dandy
Dick_, nor can Mr. PINERO hope always to be up to that really good
farcical standard. The good PINERO has nodded over this. _The Cabinet
Minister_ is an excellent title thrown away. The Cabinet Minister
himself, Mr. ARTHUR CECIL, in his official costume, playing the flute,
is as burlesque as the General in full uniform, in Mr. GILBERT'S
"_Wedding March_," sitting with his feet in hot-water. The married boy
and girl, with their doll baby and irritatingly unreal quarrels,
reminded me of the boy-and-girl lovers in _Brantingham Hall_. The mother
of _The Macphail_--the wooden Scotch figure (represented by Mr. B.
THOMAS) still to be seen at the door of small tobacconists,--is a
Helen-Macgregorish bore, curiously suggestive of what Mr. RIGHTON might
look like in petticoats. Mrs. JOHN WOOD'S part is a very trying one, and
not what the public expect from her.

[Illustration: Court in the Act; or, Mag-Pi-nero flying to a Wood with a
few leaves from the Gilbertum Topsyturveycum Bookum.]

Though the piece begins fairly well, yet it is dull until Mr. WEEDON
GROSSMITH, as _Joseph Lebanon_, comes on the scene in the Second Act,
when everyone begins to be amused, and ends by being disappointed.
_Joseph_ remains the hero of the situation, and, cad as he is, the
behaviour of the ladies and gentlemen towards him reduces them to his
level, so that, in spite of its being a farce, we begin to pity him as
we pity Mr. GUTHRIE'S _Pariah_, and as those who remember THEODORE
HOOK'S novel have pitied that wretched little cad, _Jack Brag_. The part
is not equal to _Aunt Jack's_ Solicitor, and had Mr. GROSSMITH, by the
kind permission of Mr. PINERO, departed from the conventional Adelphi
and Drury Lane type of comic Hebraic money-lender, he would have done
better. The piece is played with the burlesque earnestness that
characterised the first performances of _Engaged_ at the Haymarket,
which piece the Scotch accent recalls to the playgoer's memory. No one
can possibly feel any interest in the lovers.

As a rule Mr. PINERO'S stage-management is simple and effective: but
here the design is confused and the result is an appearance of restless
uncertainty. Drumdurris Castle seems to be a lunatic asylum, of which
the principal inmates are two elderly female patients, one, like a
twopence-coloured plate of some ancient Scotch heroine, with a craze
about Scotland, and the other mad on saying "Fal-lal," and screaming out
something about "motives." If eight of the characters were cut out,
"they'd none of 'em be missed," and if the play were compressed into one
Act, it would contain the essence of all that was worth retaining, and,
with a few songs and dances, might make an attractive _lever de rideau_
or "laughable farce to finish," before, or after, a revival of _Dandy
Dick_.

  AMICUS CANDIDUS.

       *       *       *       *       *

MR. PUNCH'S PROVERBS UP TO DATE.

An acre of land in Melbourne is better than two miles in the bush.

Not enough at the Aquarium pays better than a feast.

You may start a train punctually from the terminus, but you can't get it
to keep its time _en route_.

You can't make an English purse out of an Irish Land Bill.

A Tea Duty will annoy for ever.

It is the early Tram-man who holds the morning meeting.

Look after the wire-fences for the horses and the hounds will take care
of themselves.

A man may go nine times to Holloway for contempt, and after the tenth
visit come before the Official Receiver and be broke.

A School Board is soon parted from its money.

Give a dog a muzzle and you needn't chain him.

       *       *       *       *       *

"NOTHING WHEN YOU'RE ROOSE'D TO IT,"--We've heard plenty about _diner à
la Roose_, and the _Here and There and Everywhere and Fare of London
Life_, but now we are to have _Fasting à la Roose_. Vide article in May
number of _New Review_ on Fasting, by Dr. ROBINSON CRUSOE,--beg
pardon,--should have said Dr. ROBSON ROOSE O. Article not variation on
ROOSE O'S Dream, but thoroughly practical.

       *       *       *       *       *

WEEK BY WEEK.

_Wednesday, April 30._--_Mr. Punch_ rises early and appears everywhere.
Whole holiday. General rejoicings. Grand Banquet in the evening as
usual. Private Reception of Mr. STANLEY, I presume. No one admitted
without orders--on his uniform. Great reception of Mr. H. M. STANLEY by
his Hairdresser.

_Thursday, May 1._--Headaches. Chimney Sweeper's Day. Sootable occasion
for Sweeping Reform Meetings everywhere. N. B.--Edinburgh Exhibition.
Scots wha' hae. Reception of Mr. H. M. STANLEY by the eminent Explorer's
tailor, bootmaker, and hosier.

_Friday, May 2._--Strictly Private View of the Pictures at Burlington
House. Admissions limited to not more than 100,000 patrons of Art. Quiet
day. Everybody preparing speech for the Academy Banquet to-morrow.
Deputation to Mr. H. M. STANLEY from Aquarium, to ask if he will take
SUCCI'S place.

_Saturday._--Great Cooking Match at the Café Royal, Lunch Time, Trial
Steaks. Opening of the front door by Mr. H. M. STANLEY. Snug little
dinner at Burlington House. Sir FREDERICK, P. R. A., in the chair.
Musical entertainment by Mr. WHISTLER. Fireworks by Mr. H-RRY F-RN-SS.

_Sunday.--Dies Non._ No Day!! Curious effect. Gas lighted everywhere.
Private Banquet to Mr. STANLEY, who discovers the sauce of the lobster,
and takes it with his salmon. Rejoicings.

_Monday._--Ceremony of changing sentinels at Buckingham Palace. Every
sentinel very much changed after the operation. Opening of a New Book by
Mr. H. M. STANLEY. Mrs. SNOOKS'S first dance, if she has learnt it in
time for to-night.

_Tuesday._--Preparations for to-morrow. The Platelayers' annual
festival, ROBERT, the Waiter, in the chair. Reception by Mr. H. M.
STANLEY, of a parcel from his tailor's. Usual banquets, dances, races,
excursions, alarums.

_Wednesday._--_Mr. Punch_ comes out stronger than ever. Congratulatory
telegrams from all parts of Europe. Banquet as usual.

       *       *       *       *       *

THE OPERA-GOER'S DIARY.

[Illustration: The Scandinavian Composer.]

_Tuesday, April 22._--Mr. BENNETT'S Libretto of _Thorgrim_ good from
literary point of view; poor from dramatic ditto. Composer COWEN not
possessing dramatic power sufficient for two, cannot supply the want.
Sestett and Chorus, end of Act II., skilfully worked up, and received
with acclamation. Opera, in a general way, Wagnerish. Orchestration
shows the hand of a master, Master COWEN. Local colour good, but too
much local colour spoils the Opera. Mr. McGUCKIN is _Thorgrim_ to the
life; singing, acting, and make-up admirable. Miss ZÉLIE DE LUSSAN
highly commendable. Miss TREMELLI, mother of _Helgi_ (an ugly name and
scarcely mentionable to ears polite), loud and leading as a
lady-villain. _Helgi_ and _Arnora_ are first cousins (not once removed)
to _Telrammond_ the Tedious and _Ortrude_ the Orful. Mr. CELLI as
_King_, a sort of Scandinavian BEAU BRUMMEL, imparts light comedy touch
to Opera, which, but for this, might have been a trifle dull. COWEN
called, came, congratulated. H. R. H. Prince of WALES, setting the best
example, as he always does, to Opera-goers, came at the beginning and
remained to the end.

_April 23._--_Maritana_ delighted everyone. Miss GEORGINA BURNS
splendid. Mr. JOHN CHILD, as _Cæsar_, good child. Mr. LESLIE CROTTY good
for _José_.

_April 26._--_Lohengrin._ _King_ played by POPE with considerable amount
of temporal power. F. DAVIES good as the _Herald_, but which _Herald_ he
is, whether the "Family" or "New York" not quite clear. Incidental music
by amateurs in the Gallery, who, in lengthy interval between Second and
Third Scenes of Last Act, whistled "_We won't go home till morning!_"

Carl Rosa Opera season soon over, then Drama at Drury Lane, and Italian
Opera at Covent Garden. AUGUSTUS DRURIOLANUS OPERATICUS
COUNTICOUNCILLARIUS (Sheriff _in posse_, Alderman _in futuro_, and Lord
Mayor _in futurissimo_) keeps the ball a rolling at both Houses.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: STRICTLY PRIVATE VIEW, ROYAL ACADEMY.]

       *       *       *       *       *

IN THE KNOW.

(_By Mr. Punch's Own Prophet._)

The Duke of DUMPSHIRE seems to have been much annoyed by my statement
that he killed two trainers with his own hand, for being caught watching
a trial of his Derby horses, and that the Jockey Club took no action. I
beg to inform his Grace and those who approve his methods, that I care
no more for their annoyance than I do for the muddy-minded lucubrations
of Mr. JEREMY and his servile tribe of moon-calves. I have public duties
to perform, and if, in the course of my comments on racing, I should
find myself occasionally compelled to run counter to the imbecile
prejudices of some of the aristocratic patrons of the turf, I can assure
my readers that I shall not flinch from the task. I therefore repeat
that, in the middle of last month, the Duke of DUMPSHIRE killed two
trainers, and that up to the present time the Jockey Club have not
enforced against him the five-pound penalty which is specially provided
by their rules for offences of this sort. When Mr. JACOBS, who has no
aristocratic connections, ventured to lynch a rascally tout on Newmarket
Heath last year, he was made to pay up at once. The contrast is
suggestive.

A lot of jannering nonsense has been talked about _Bazaar_ by the
Will-o'-the-Wisps who mislead the long-suffering public in turf matters.
_Bazaar_ is by _Rector_ out of _Church Mouse_, and in his pedigree are
to be found such well-known roarers as _Boanerges_ and _Hallelujah
Sal_--not much of a recommendation to anybody except Mr. JEREMY. His own
performances are worse than contemptible. As a two-year old, he was
placed second at eight stone to _Candlestick_ in the Warmington Open
Welter Handicap. After that he sprang a curb in the middle of his back,
and the fools who train him actually brought him out to run in the
All-aged Selling Plate at Ballymacwhacket. He won the race easily enough
of course, but only an impostor, whose head was stuffed with horsehair,
would attach the least importance to that. Since then he has eaten two
pairs of spurs, a halter, and half of a jockey, which scarcely looks
like winning races. I have now relieved my conscience on the matter, so
if the puddle-brains wish to back him, their loss must lie at their own
doors.

The Marquis de MILLEPARDON has bought _Chowbock_ for £2000. At the last
Epsom Meeting _Chowbock_ showed himself a fine pace-maker in an East
wind, having cantered in from _Sister Mary_, who as good as walked round
_Vilikins_ when the latter was being tried without his pastern-pad on
the Cotswold Hills. At the same time it must be remembered, that _Sister
Mary_ only got home by a length from _Smockfrock_, after having been
double-girthed and provided with a bucket of POCOCK'S antiseptic,
anti-crib-biting condition balls for internal application over the
Newmarket T. Y. C.

Next week, I may have something to say about Derby prospects. For the
present, I can only advise would-be investors to steer clear of Mr.
JEREMY and his quacking, goose-headed parasites.

       *       *       *       *       *

CHANGE OF NAME.--M. SUCCI, having succeeded in existing for forty days
on water alone, will henceforth be known as Water-SUCCI.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: FELICITOUS QUOTATIONS.

"IS THIS A DAGGER THAT I SEE BEFORE ME?"]

       *       *       *       *       *

HOW I WELCOMED STANLEY.

(_Notes of a Very Important Journey._)

Left Victoria by special train. On my road met my dear old friend BROWN.
We were boys together. Nothing I would not do for him. BROWN says the
dearest object of his life is to welcome STANLEY. Can't I take him with
me? (This on learning the nature of _my_ expedition.) He is off to
Canada to-morrow--early. More sorry than I can say--impossible. Only
invitation for "one." One, myself. He sighs and we part--it may be for
years, it may be for ever. Sorrowful, but cheered up by party in special
train. Everybody in great spirits going to welcome STANLEY. Dearest
object of everybody's life. To pass the time tell one another stories of
adventure. Man who was in the Franco-German War explains how he would
have defended Metz if he had been BAZAINE. Man who went through the
Soudan (perhaps a trifle jealous), says if he _had_ been BAZAINE he
wouldn't have defended Metz at all, because BAZAINE was a traitor. Row
imminent, so cut in with my adventure in a life-boat. Graphic account.
Ship springing a-leak; men at the pumps; boats given up to the women and
children. The good ship--well, never mind the name of ship; have
forgotten it--lurches, gives one long roll, and sinks! Remaining
passengers, headed by myself, swarm up the rigging to the mizzen-top.
High sea, thunder and lightning. Great privations. Sun sinks in red,
moon rises in green. All hope gone, when--hurrah, a sail! It is the
life-boat! Slung on board by ropes. Rockets and coloured lights let off.
The coxswain calls upon the crew to "pull blue," or "pull white."
Startling adventures. On the rocks! Off them! Saved! Everybody pleased
with my story. Keep to myself the fact that I have only once in my life
been on board a life-boat--when it was practising off Lynton. No more
stories after mine. Company (disheartened) break up into groups. Pleased
with the scenery. After all, there is no place like Dover--when you stop
there. Glad I am not going to welcome STANLEY on the other side of the
Channel. London, Chatham and Dover Railway arrangements capital,
especially when you are travelling _en prince_.

Ah, here we are at Dover! Meet JONES--of course, he is going to welcome
STANLEY. So are SNOOKS and SMITH. And, as I live, old TOMPKINS! Well,
this is very plucky of old TOMPKINS. Thought he was dead years ago. Says
he would not miss STANLEY for worlds. More would I. Great privilege to
welcome him. Feel it most deeply. The greatest explorer of the age. But
sea-air has made me a trifle hungry and thirsty. I daresay lunch is
going on somewhere. Find it isn't! Deputation of Vergers, seemingly from
Canterbury Cathedral, headed by a beadle, carrying an ear-trumpet,
forcing their way through crowd. Police arrangements the reverse of
satisfactory. Distinguished proprietor of influential newspaper
hustled--possibly mistaken for EMIN PASHA, who would be _de trop_ on
such an occasion. But must have lunch. Not up to form of Signor SUCCI.
So avoid the brilliant but giddy throng, and find out a favourite little
restaurant close to the Lord Warden. French _plats_ and some excellent
_Grave_. Know the _Grave_ of old--seldom asked for, and so kept long in
bottle. Order a nice little luncheon and feel rather sleepy. Luncheon
ready. Do it justice, and fancy suddenly that I am in charge of the lamp
in a lighthouse. Rough night. Ah! the life-boat! manned by old TOMPKINS
(adventurous chap old TOMPKINS) SNOOKS, JONES, SMITH and BROWN. Thought
latter had gone to Canada! Open eyes with a start. Waiter and bill.
Bless me, how late it is. Must be off at once to welcome STANLEY. Meet
old TOMPKINS, SNOOKS, JONES and SMITH instead. They tell me that they
have all welcomed STANLEY. Found him being "run into" the train by two
policemen! Thought him looking very well. Didn't I? Ask, where is he
now? Don't I know? Why gone back by the special! Thought I must have
missed it on purpose. Hurry away in bad temper. May catch him up. Pop
into fast train just starting. Scenery bad. Weather horrid. Fellow
travellers unsupportable. Ah, here we are at last at Victoria. One
satisfaction--BROWN didn't welcome him either. Why here _is_ BROWN on
the platform--do him a last good turn--describe STANLEY. I tell him that
the great explorer looks younger than ever, wears big cap, white suit,
revolver and field-glasses. Every inch a portrait in the _Daily
Graphic_! BROWN says, "That's strange, as he didn't look like _that_
when _he_ saw him!" Appears BROWN put off trip to Canada to welcome him.
Can't be helped! Shall meet STANLEY somewhere (movements advertised
daily in the _Times_) and when I _do_ won't I give him a bit of my mind,
for not waiting long enough to let me welcome him!

       *       *       *       *       *

ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.

EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M.P.

_House of Commons, Monday, April 21._--House really beginning to fill
up. HARTINGTON back from the Riviera. First time he has appeared this
Session; lounged in with pretty air of having been there yesterday and
just looked in again. Blushed with surprise to find Members on both
sides welcoming him with cheer.

"We all like HARTINGTON," said SAGE OF QUEEN ANNE'S GATE. "Of course we
liked him better when he agreed with our opinions; but we can't all keep
straight, and he's gone wrong. Still, we bear him no malice. Sorry he
was ill; glad he's better. Must encourage this benevolent attitude
towards him, since it enables us, with fuller vigour to denounce
CHAMBERLAIN. You see, when we howl at CHAMBERLAIN, they can't say we are
simply moved by personal spite, because here we are cheering HARTINGTON
as he returns to the fray."

JOHN DILLON back too; bronzed with Australian suns; ruddy with the
breezes of lusty Colorado. Everyone glad to see JOHN back; first because
everyone likes him; next for reasons akin to those which the SAGE
frankly acknowledges when cheering HARTINGTON. Even in the evil days
when JOHN DILLON used to fold his arms and flash dark glances of
defiance on Speaker BRAND, House didn't include him in same angry,
uncompromising, denunciation as hurtled round head of WILLIAM O'BRIEN,
TIM HEALY, and dear old JOSEPH GILLIS. JOHN DILLON sometimes suspended;
occasionally sent to prison; but the honesty of his motives, the purity
of his patriotism, always acknowledged. Mistaken, led astray (that is to
say differed from us on matters of opinion), but meant well.

[Illustration: The Sage.]

"Yes, TOBY," said the SAGE, lighting another cigarette; "always well
when you're going it hot for a Party to have some individual in it whom
you can omit from general implication of infamous motives. Gives one
high moral standpoint, doncha know. Thus, when I want to suggest that
THE MARKISS is a mere tool in hands of BISMARCK, I extol honest purposes
of OLD MORALITY; hint, you know, that he is not so sharp of perception
as he might be; but that gives him the fuller claim upon our sympathy,
seeing that he is yoked with a colleague of the natural depravity, and
capable of the infinite iniquity, which marks the MARKISS'S relations
with public affairs. The great thing, dear TOBY, in public controversy
is to assume an attitude of impartiality. When you have to suggest that
a political adversary was privy to the putting-away of his grandmother,
do it rather in sorrow than in anger, and if you can find or make an
opportunity of saying at the same time a kind word for one of his
colleagues, seize it. That's why we cheer HARTINGTON to-night, and why
the Tories sometimes admit that JOHN DILLON'S an honest man."

_Business done._--_Parnell_ moved rejection of Land Purchase Bill.

_Tuesday._--COURTNEY on in his famous quick-change scene. One minute he
is discovered in recesses of canopied chair as Speaker; the next is
seated at table as Chairman of Committees. SPEAKER, everyone sorry to
learn, is ill in bed. So COURTNEY doubles his part. Proceeding watched
with profound interest from Strangers' Gallery. At ten minutes and ten
seconds to Seven House in Committee of Supply. COURTNEY in Chair at
table; Mace off the table; TANNER on his legs. As hand of clock falters
over the numeral ten, COURTNEY gets up, says never a word, wheels to
right out of Chair and marches to rear. TANNER stops midway in sentence
and resumes seat. Sergeant-at-Arms bowing thrice advances, lifts Mace on
to table, and retires. Stranger in Gallery wondering what has become of
COURTNEY, appalled by discovering him in SPEAKER'S Chair, quite a new
man. On these occasions marks his swiftly varying condition by altered
tone of voice. As Chairman of Committees, assumes piping treble voice,
as Deputy-Chairman drops occasional observations in profound bass.

[Illustration: Sergeant-at-Arms (and Legs).]

"Only thing left to me, dear TOBY," he said, when I congratulated him on
his treble. "Haven't time to change dress, even if it were permissible;
must do something to mark wide gulf fixed between Chairman of Committee
and SPEAKER; so hit upon this scheme. Glad you like the treble; a little
out of my line, but practice makes perfect."

At Evening Sitting question of Labour and Capital brought on by BARTLEY.
CUNNINGHAME-GRAHAM let House see what a terrible fellow he is. Doesn't
look the part; but after speech to-night no question of his innate
ferocity. _Sim Tappertit_ not in it for such blood-curdling remarks. "I
have," he said just now, "often interfered between Capital and Labour;
but, thank Heaven! I have never interfered in the character of a
conciliator."

"Ha, ha!" he cried, a little later, _à propos_ of nothing. "You talk of
inciting to violence. I have never incited to violence, and wherefore?
Because, in present state of affairs, with society a vast organised
conspiracy, violence would recoil on the heads of the Working Classes.
But, Sir, the time will come when things will be otherwise, and the very
moment that power is in the hands of the Working Classes I shall incite
them to violence."

After this House took early opportunity of adjourning. Pretty to see
Members stealing across Palace Yard in the dark, looking furtively right
and left, not sure that moment was not come, and SIMON CUNNINGHAME
TAPPERTIT GRAHAM was not hounding on his "United Bulldogs" against the
Classes. "We must look out, BROADHURST," said JAMES ROWLANDS, nervously
rubbing his hand. "It's all very well of your retiring to Cromer. I
think I shall practise with a revolver; shall certainly carry a
sword-stick."

_Business done._--Budget Resolutions through Committee.

_Thursday Night._--HOME SECRETARY came down to-day in unusually good
spirits. Nothing happened of late to give enemy occasion to blaspheme.
Crewe affair seems quite forgotten; nobody going to be hanged when he
ought to be reprieved, or reprieved when he ought to be hanged. Seems
almost as if, after all, life for HOME SECRETARY would be worth living.
Whatever embarrassments ahead belong to other Departments of Ministry.
Land Purchase troubles, not the HOME SECRETARY, nor Bi-Metallism either.
RAIKES been doing something at the Post Office. GOSCHEN been tampering
with tea, and sinning in the matter of currants. Something wrong with
the Newfoundland Fisheries, but that FERGUSSON'S look-out. True, ELCHO
wanting to know about some prisoners taken from Ipswich to Bury in
chains. Sounds bad sort of thing; sure to be letters in newspapers about
it. But HOME SECRETARY able to lay hand on heart and swear the chains
were light. ELCHO blustered a bit. Irish Members, naturally interested
in arrangements for going to prison, threateningly cheered; but after
what MATTHEWS had suffered in other times this affair lighter than the
chains themselves.

Incident had passed; questions on paper disposed of; soon be debating
Land Purchase Bill; all would be well for at least another day. Suddenly
up gets HARCOURT; wants to know who is responsible for the design of new
police buildings on Thames Embankment? Flush of pride mantles brow of
MATTHEWS. This red-hot building--its gables, its roofs, its windows, its
doorways, and its twisted knockers--was designed under his direction. It
is his dower to London, set forth on one of its most spacious sites.
What does HARCOURT want to know about it? Why is PLUNKET so studious in
repudiating all responsibility for the thing? Wherefore does crowded
House cheer and laugh when HARCOURT gives notice to call attention to
building on Home Office Vote? Can it be possible that here is another
mistake? Ought he to have hanged the architect instead of encouraging
him? Always doing things for the best, and they turn out the very worst.
Been occasionally misunderstood; but did, at least, think that London
would be grateful for this emanation from the heated architectural mind.

"Looks so like a carbuncle suddenly developed on Embankment, with the
stately Thames swirling below, that I really thought they would like
it," said HOME SECRETARY, mopping his furrowed brow. "But there are some
people, TOBY, who are never pleased, and prominent among them are the
people of London."

_Business done._--Debate on Land Purchase Bill.

_Friday._--Things rather in a muddle to-day all round. At Morning
Sitting didn't get Supply which everybody expected would be order of
day; didn't proceed with Allotments Bill, which was first on Orders. At
night, PROVAND on first with Dried Currants; MCLAREN to follow with
Woman's Suffrage, neither turned up, and at half-past eleven by dint of
Closure, got into Committee of Supply. GEORGE CAMPBELL cruising up and
down in New Guinea steamer; finally docked. Then ARTHUR WILLIAMS moved
to report progress; more discussion; OLD MORALITY pounced; Division on
Closure; COURTNEY named SHEEHY as one of tellers; SHEEHY in Limerick;
House couldn't wait for him to return; so WADDY brought out of Lobby to
tell with TANNER. When Closure carried, it was ten minutes past one.
House bound to rise at one o'clock; Chairman equally bound to put the
question, which was to report progress. Motion for progress negatived,
which meant that the House would go on with business; but it being a
quarter past one Deputy-Speaker must needs leave Chair, and so sitting
collapsed.

"Dear me!" said BOLTON, "this is hard to understand. Must go off to the
Garrick and think it over."

_Business done._--None.

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