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PUNCH, or the LONDON CHARIVARI

Volume 104, April 22nd 1893

edited by Sir Francis Burnand




OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.

[Illustration: "The strange sea-creatures which made their
appearance."]

Two gentlemen of artistic and literary attainments, having studied the
romances of VICTOR HUGO for the sake of being inspired by that Grand
Old Master's style, determined to essay a "thriller" of most tragic
type. These two single authors, Messrs. WYATT and ROSS, being rolled
into one, wanted, like the Pickwickian Fat Boy, "to make our flesh
creep." In their one-volume Hugoesque romance, _The Earth Girl_,
bound in pale grass-green, with blood-red title, they have most
unequivocally succeeded. The heroine, The Earth Girl, who, at
the last, is sent back whence she came, and so ends by being the
"Earth-to-Earth" Girl, is named _Terra_; she commences by being _Terra
Incognita_, she is never _Terra Firma_, but her existence, in its
consequences to all who come within her influence, is quite a reign of
_Terra_. The authors are to be congratulated on not having yielded
to a great temptation by styling their story _The Earth Girl;
or, Terra-ra-ra-Boom!_ The scene is laid chiefly in the Island of
Breke - but to give too many details would spoil the intending-reader's
pleasure. So, as _Hamlet_ observes, "Breke, Breke my heart, for I must
hold my tongue!" The Earth Girl first sees the light, such as it is,
in a cavern, and is brought up on raw eggs fresh from the sea-bird's
nest, uncooked herbs, and raw fish. No tea, coffee, milk, or liquors
of any description, were within reach of this unhappy family of three,
consisting of Pa, Ma, and the Infant Phenomenon. How they slaked their
thirst is not clearly stated, unless a sort of aquarium, in which some
amiable sharks reposed, was a fresh-water tank. This wild girl
was elegantly brought up, as far as their somewhat straitened
circumstances would permit, for she learned songs and ballads, French,
English, and the Norman _patois_ of the Channel Islands. In these
peculiar troglodytian surroundings she had never learned the use of
parasol or umbrella, and was entirely ignorant of harp, piano, and
the "use of the globes." Coming up out of the caves and breathing once
more the upper air, we naturally find ourselves in higher society, and
are introduced to a handsome old Peer, _Lord Netherdale_, who has two
sons, the half-brothers _Royallet_, one of whom gaily addresses his
respected parent as "The Paladin of Paters," and is not at once locked
up in Colney Hatch. The old Peer is as eccentric as he is handsome,
and he takes up his residence on the Island of Breke, where "the
fruit, the vegetables, the strange sea-creatures" (odd fish?), "which
made their appearance on his table," (this sounds as if the strange
sea-creatures walked in unasked. Queer place this Breke for a
Breke-fast party!) "pleased him." He was easily pleased. Then "he
began to think the island cider preferable to Pommery. In short, the
eccentric Peer fell in love with Breke." Well! he must have been an
eccentric Peer to prefer Channel Island cider, even from the best
orchards, to the '84, '80, and '74 - the last still existing in some
exceptionally favoured spots - from the vinevards of Pommery. This
eccentric nobleman on seeing the Island of Breke, observed the absence
of a landing-stage, and jocosely remarked to himself, "They're in want
of a _pier; I_ will fix myself there." And so he did. But of all that
happened to him there and elsewhere, and to the Earth-to-Earth Girl,
and to the two sons, is it not to be read by the purchaser in the book
itself, which, the Baron is pleased to add, will well repay perusal,
and will hold the reader's attention to the very last line. At least,
this was its effect on the not always easily pleased.

BARON DE BOOK-WORMS.

* * * * *

A NEW "ARNOLD'S EXERCISE."

MY DEAR MR. DACRE,

I have seen your Play, and, since then, I have not seen any other like
it. "When will I come again?" To see it twice within a week would be
too ecstatic a joy for a dweller - may I say a Liver - in London, who
is more at home as one of the Lights of Asia. So, for the present - to
paraphrase what I believe were the words of a popular poet whose name
has passed from my memory - such, alas! is popularity - I will say to
you, "Not to-day. DACRE" - (I fancy the last word was "Baker" in the
original Syriac) - but, some other day, when, as one of the Lights
aforementioned, I shall, at a _Matinée_ be day-lighted to re-witness
your admirable performance.

Yours ever most sincerely sincere,

EDWIN TAILS-LOSE, C.B.

P.S. - "C.B." is not "Commander of the Bath," but stands for "_Cox
and Box_," in which piece (have you ever played it? I forget - but how
perfect you would be as _Sergeant_ or _Corporal Bouncer!_) you will
find the immortal quotation which precedes these descriptive initial
letters.

* * * * *

MY DOCTOR.

When Influenza pangs attack
My tortured head and limbs and back,
You soothe me, stretched upon the rack,
My Doctor.

When, convalescent, I'm too weak
To stand, or sit, or see, or speak,
Your tonics make me tough as teak,
My Doctor.

No symptoms seem to cause surprise;
Though I turn green or blue, your eyes
Are still impenetrably wise,
My Doctor.

If grave or slight the case, you still
Awe folks with look of learned skill;
You cure them, whether well or ill,
My Doctor.

One needs trepanning of the head,
Another just one pill - of bread,
And neither, thanks to you, is dead,
My Doctor.

Long may you live to see the tongue,
To listen to the wheezy lung,
To feel the pulse of old and young,
My Doctor!

* * * * *

A BUTTON-HOLE FOR MR. CHAMBERLAIN. - At the sale of the Quorn House
Orchids, Mr. G. HARDY purchased a _Cattleyn Mendelli_ for 220 _guas_.
Perhaps Mr. CHAMBERLAIN wouldn't bid, having mistaken "Mendelli" for
"Mundella." But to have entered the house in a careless fashion, with
a "glass (with care)" in his eye, and a two-hundred-and-twenty-guinea
Orchid in his button-hole, would have been a great sight for "JOEY
B"-IRMINGHAM.

* * * * *

EARLY AND LATE. - A telegram in the _Times_, Wednesday 12, was
headed - "Japan: Yokohama, March 30 (_viâ_ Victoria, B.C., April 11)."
This met the eye of our old friend, Mrs. R., who forthwith exclaimed,
"'April 11, B.C.!' and only arrived here now - April 12, A.D.!"

* * * * *

CHANGE OF NAME. - All congratulations to the Duke and Duchess of Fife.
Great alterations and improvements are, it is said, being made at
Mar Lodge. The name also is to be altered, and henceforth it is to be
known as "_Mar and Pa' Lodge_."

* * * * *

THE MOAN OF THE TWO (EXCHEQUER) MISERS.

(_After Quintin Matsys._)

[Illustration]

_First Exchequer Miser._ Oh dear me! I desired to shape a Democratic
Budget!
But I fear 'twill be a fizzle, howsoe'er I fake and fudge it!
_Second E. M._ Don't talk like that, my H-RC-T, for such cynic slang is
shocking!
But - the Revenue Returns, no doubt, our dearest hopes are mocking.
_First E. M._ Oh, I know you ape the casuist, and love the pleonastic,
But how tackle our taxation in a manner really drastic
With a Revenue declining! From the task my courage blenches,
But - what will be the consequence on those clamorous Rad Benches?
They want Free Breakfast Tables, and are hot on Members' Payment,
And if they cannot get 'em, will they curse and rend our raiment?
The Death Duties, too! The failure to touch them might be the death of
us!
_Second R. M._ Yet we've been economical; it is the very breath of us.
_First E. M._ Humph! How about your Home-Rule Bill's Finance
Proposals - drat'em!
Which e'en the Irish threaten to tear up - when they get at 'em!
_Second E. M._ The Rads, of course, will want to eat their cake and have
it, also.
No, a Democratic Budget, - at least one the Rads would call so, -
I fear's not on the cards, H., but - humph! listen!
(_Whispers in his ear._)
For the rest of it
I'll trust your ingenuity, and - we must make the best of it!
[_Left working it out._

* * * * *

[Illustration: "A PRIVATE VIEW."

_Pat._ "WHAT D'YE THINK OF THE HOME-RULE BILL, MURPHY?"

_Murphy_ (_puzzled_). "BEGORRA, IF IT MEANS STAYING AT HOME WITH THE
OULD WOMAN EVERY BLESSED DAY, HOME RULE WON'T DO FOR ME AT ALL, AT
ALL!"]

* * * * *

"PER DAMNA, PER CÆDES," PERAMBULATOR.

[See Mr. ASQUITH'S Speech on the "Temperance" demonstration.]

When Trafalgar Square is with human geese full,
And fiercely fights the daft declamator,
Undisturbed the nursemaid can push the peaceful
Perambulator.

The wild teetotaller hurts not her,
Nor does the publican's justificator.
Unharmed she can push the peaceful Per-
ambulator.

The Working Man, whether true or sham,
Whether honest worker, or rough spectator,
Leaves her to push the peaceful Peram-
bulator.

Though in hostile faces and chests he ram beau -
Tiful bright banners, the demonstrator
Still lets her push the peaceful Perambu-
lator.

Thus always, whoever may block the way,
Though bones be broken and skulls be sore
May she push the peaceful Perambula-
tor.

* * * * *

"Still a _Non Est_ Man!" - J-B-Z SP-NC-R B-LF-R.

* * * * *

To Mr. John Davitt.

(_On his Maiden Speech in the House._)

"O si sic omnes!"

Surely sincerer speaker never talked!
Surely a purer patriot never walked!
Surely a fairer fighter never took field!
The man who heard your speech on Ireland's cause
Without warm sympathy, and frank applause,
Must be a - BROOKFIELD!

* * * * *

CHEAP AT ANY PRICE.

_Mrs. Britannia_ (_effusively_). And now, my dear children, do you
know the meaning of Imperial Federation?

_Australia_ (_promptly_). Yes, dear Mamma. We are all to live as a
happy family.

_Mrs. Brit._ (_fondly_). Quite right, sweetest. And can you tell me
how this is to be managed?

_Canada_ (_with decision_). By mutual defence, dear Mamma.

_Mrs. Brit._ (_smilingly_). My love, your answer is quite correct. And
how shall we manage this mutual defence?

_Cape Colony_ (_in a business-like manner_). By providing all sorts of
things, dear Mamma.

_Mrs. Brit._ (_proudly_). Very good, little HOPE; you are always ready
with an answer. And now, can any of you tell me what those things will
be?

_India_ (_without hesitation_). Money, and coal and gunpowder, dear
Mamma.

_Mrs. Brit._ (_affectionately_). Certainly, darling; you have given
exactly the proper reply. And now, will not all this cost a large sum
of money?

_Tasmania_ (_with much decision_). A very large sum of money, dear
Mamma - an immense sum, dear Mamma.

_Mrs. Brit._ (_kindly_). Yes, my child, you are perfectly right. And
now, my cherished daughters, one more question. Who will have to pay
for all this expense? (_A pause._) Why, surely you know? (_Continued
silence._) Who will have to find the money to secure this Imperial
Federation?

_All Britannia's Daughters_ (_together_). Why you, dear Mamma!

_Mrs. Brit._ (_fondling them_). Darlings!

[_Scene closes in upon a picture very dear to Tax-payers._

* * * * *

The Heathen Chinee in the House.

(_New Nursery Rhyme for Unionists._)

[Mr. LABOUCHERE recently presented a petition in the Chinese
characters.]

LAB-BI, the cynic and cold,
Was blackest sheep in the Liberal fold.
He mocked the Old Man's eloquent tags,
And let the cats out of all his bags;
And when the cats ran loose, said he
"I wonder how _that_ suits dear G!"

* * * * *

[Illustration: "To-night is ours!"]

ELEVATING THE MASSES.

(_A Purely Imaginary Sketch._)

ARGUMENT - Mrs. FLITTERMOUSE, _having got up a party to assist her in
giving an Entertainment at the East End, has called a meeting for the
purpose of settling the items in the programme._

SCENE - Mrs. FLITTERMOUSE'S _Drawing-room in Park Lane. Everybody
discovered drinking tea, and chatting on matters totally unconnected
with Philanthropy._

_Mrs. Flittermouse_ (_imploringly_). Now, _please_, everybody, _do_
attend! It's quite impossible to settle anything while you're all
talking about something else. (_Apologies, protests, constrained
silence._) SELINA, dear, what do you think it would be best to begin
with?

_The Dowager Lady Dampier._ My dear FRITILLA, I have no suggestion
to offer. You know my opinion about the whole thing. The people don't
want to be elevated, and - if they did - entertaining them is not the
proper means to set about it. But I don't wish to discourage you.

_Mrs. Flitt._ Oh, but I think we could do so _much_ to give them a
taste for more rational and refined amusements, poor things, to wean
them from the coarse pleasures which are all they have at present.
Only we must really decide what each of us is going to do.

_Mrs. Perse-Weaver._ A violin solo is always popular. And my daughter
CECILIA will be delighted to play for you. She has been taught by the
best - -

_Cecilia._ Oh, Mother, I couldn't, really! I've never played in
public. I _know_ I should break down!

_Lady Damp._ In that case, my dear, it would be certainly unwise on
your part to attempt it.

_Mrs. P.-W._ Nonsense, CECILIA, nonsense. You _won't_ break down, and
it wouldn't matter in the least if you did. _They_ wouldn't notice
anything. And it will be such excellent practice for you to get
accustomed to a platform, too. Of _course_ she will play for you, dear
Mrs. FLITTERMOUSE!

_Mrs. Flitt._ It will be _so_ good of you, Miss WEAVER. And it won't
be like playing to a _real_ audience, you know - poor people are so
easily pleased, poor dears. Then I will put that down to begin with.
(_She makes a note._) Now we must have something quite different for
the next - a reading or something.

_Lady Honor Hyndleggs._ A - nothin' _humorous_, I hope. I do think
we ought to avoid anythin' like descendin' to their level, don't you
know.

_Mr. Lovegroove._ Might try something out of _Pickwick_. "_Bob
Sawyer's Party_," you know. Can't go far wrong with anything out of
DICKENS.

_Miss Diova Rose._ Can't endure him myself. All his characters are
so fearfully common; still - (_tolerantly_) I daresay it might
amuse - a - that class of persons.

_Mrs. Flitt._ I must say I agree with Lady HONOR. We should try and
aim as high as possible - and well, I think _not_ DICKENS, dear Mr.
LOVEGROOVE. _TENNYSON_ might do perhaps; he's written some charmin'
pieces.

_Mr. Lovegr._ Well, fact is, I don't go in for poetry much myself. But
I'll read anythin' of his you think I'm equal to.

_Mrs. Flitt._ Why - a - really, it's so long since I - and I'm afraid
I haven't one of his poems in the house. I suppose they are down at
Barn-end. But I could send to CUTT AND HAWTHORN'S. I daresay _they_
would have a copy somewhere.

_Miss Sibson-Gabler._ Surely TENNYSON is rather - a - retrograde?
Why not read them something to set them _thinking_? It would be an
interesting experiment to try the effect of that marvellous Last Scene
in the _Doll's House_. I'd love to read it. It would be like a breath
of fresh air to them!

_Mrs. P.-W._ Oh! I've seen that at the Langham Hall. You remember,
CECILIA, my taking you there? And CORNEY GRAIN played _Noah_. To be
sure - we were _quite_ amused by it all.

_Miss S.-G._ (_coldly_). This is _not_ amusing - it's a play of
IBSEN'S.

_Mrs. Flitt._ Is that the man who wrote the piece at the
Criterion - what is it, _The Toy Shop_? WYNDHAM acted in it.

_Lady Damp._ No, no; IBSEN is the person there's been all this fuss
about in the papers - he goes in for unconventionality and all that.
I may be wrong, but I think it is _such_ a mistake to have anything
unconventional in an Entertainment for the People.

_Mrs. Flitt._ But if he's being _talked_ about, dear Lady DAMPIER,
people might like to know something about him. But perhaps we'd better
leave IBSEN open, then. Now, what shall we have next?

_Miss Skipworth._ I tell you what would fetch them - a skirt-dance.
I'll dance for you - like a shot. It would be no end of fun doin' it on
a regular platform, and I've been studyin' FLOSSIE FRILLINGTON, at the
Inanity, till I've caught her style exactly.

_Mr. Kempton._ Oh, I say, you can give her a stone and a beatin' any
day, give you my word you can. She doesn't put anythin' like the go
into it you do.

[_Miss S. accepts this tribute with complacency._

_Mrs. Flitt._ A skirt-dance will be the very thing. It's sure to
please the people we shall bring over for it - and of course they'll
be in the front rows. Yes, I must put _that_ down. We ought to have
a song next. Mrs. TUBEROSE, you promised to come and sing for us - you
will, won't you?

_Mrs. Tuberose._ Delighted! I rather thought of doing a dear little
song STEPHAN OTIS has just brought out. It's called "_Forbidden
Fruit_," and he wrote it expressly for me. It goes like this.

[_She sits down at the piano, and sings, with infinite expression and
tenderness._

"Only the moon espies our bliss,
Through the conscious clusters of clematis,
Shedding star-sweet showers.
To-morrow the world will have gone amiss -
Now we are face by face, love, I thrill to your kiss -
So let us remember naught but this:
That To-night is ours!
Yes, this passionate, perilous, exquisite night - is Ours!"

_Several Voices._ Charmin'.... OTIS puts so much real feeling into all
his songs ... quite a little gem! &c., &c.

_Lady Damp._ I should have thought myself that it was rather
advanced - for an East-End audience - -

_Mrs. Tuberose_ (_nettled_). Really, dear Lady DAMPIER, if people see
nothing to object in it _here_, I don't see why they should be more
particular at the East-End!

_Mrs. Flitt._ Oh no, - and as if it matters what the _words_ are in
a song. I daresay if one heard _their_ songs - - Now we want another
song - something as different as possible.

_Mr. Gardinier._ Heard a capital song at the "Pav." the other
night - something about a Cock-eyed Kipper. Just suit my voice. I could
easily get the words and music, and do that for you - if you like.

_Several Voices._ A Cock-eyed Kipper! It sounds too killing! Oh, we
must have that!

_Lady Damp._ Might I ask what kind of creature a - a "Cock-eyed Kipper"
may be?

_Mr. Gard._ Oh, well, I suppose it's a sort of a dried herring - with a
squint, don't you know.

_Lady Damp._ I see no humour in making light of a personal deformity,
I must say.

_Mr. Gard._ Oh, don't you? _They_ will - it'll go with a scream there!

_Miss Diova Rose._ Yes, poor dears - and we mustn't mind being just a
little vulgar for once - to cheer them up.

_Lady Honor._ I have been to the Pavilion and the Tivoli myself, and I
heard nothing to object to. I know I was much more amused than I ever
am at theatres - _they_ bore me to death.

_Mr. Bagotrix._ We might finish up with _Mrs. Jarley's Waxworks_ you
know. Some of you can be the figures, and I'll come on in a bonnet and
shawl as _Mrs. Jarley_, and wind you up and describe you. I've done
it at lots of places in the country; brought in personal allusions and
all that sort of thing, and made everybody roar.

_Lady Damp._ But will the East-Enders understand your personal
allusions?

_Mr. Bag._ Well, you see, the people in the front rows will, which is
all _I_ want.

_Lady Honor_ (_suspiciously_). Isn't _Mrs. Jarley_ out of _Pickwick_,
though? That's DICKENS surely!

_Mr. Bag._ (_reassuringly_). Nothing but the name, Lady HONOR. I make
up all the patter myself, so that'll be all right - just good-natured
chaff, you know; if any body's a offended - as I've known them to
be - it's no fault of mine.

_Mrs. Flitt._ Oh! I'm sure you will make it funny, - and about getting
someone to preside - I suppose we ought to ask the Vicar of the nearest
church?

_Lady Honor._ Wouldn't it be better to get somebody - a - more in
Society, don't you know?

_Mrs. Flitt._ Yes; and he might offer to pay for hiring the Hall, and
the other expenses. I never thought of that. I'll see whom I can
get. Really I think it ought to be great fun, and we shall have
the satisfaction of feeling we are doing real good, which is such a
comfort!

* * * * *

[Illustration: A GENTLE SNUB.

"HERE, WAITER, QUICK! SOMETHING TO EAT - AND LOOK SHARP!"

"YESSIR. WHAT'LL YOU 'AVE, SIR?"

"OH - ANYTHING - I DON'T CARE. CHOP OR STEAK - WHATEVER YOU LIKE."

"YOU MUST EXCUSE ME, SIR; BUT I DON'T FEEL CALLED UPON TO DECIDE!"]

* * * * *

A Tip to Teetotallers.

TEMPERANCE is good - but not alone in Drink!
Good causes are not won, whate'er you think,
By bullying indulgence in bad manners.
A total abstinence from aught unfair
Will serve you best. Your Standard raise in air,
But Banners of Intemperance should not tear
Passions to rags - _nor Banners_!

* * * * *

THE _Times_ of April 12 says: - "The Kachin (or Katchin) rising is
stated to be serious, and likely to spread." Not to be wondered at, as
it's "Katchin."

* * * * *

A TELEGRAM from Fez ought to be considered as coming from
Head-quarters.

* * * * *

CLERICAL OUTCOMES.

_To the Editor of "The St-nd-rd."_

SIR, - Allow me to mention, under all reserve, that I _frequently_
preach a sermon of JEREMY TAYLOR'S, or the Judicious HOOKER'S, to
my congregation, with excellent effect, and hitherto without any
discovery on their part of the origin of the discourse. I, of course,
alter the old-fashioned phrases, and bring the sermons up to date,
so to speak. This plan saves the inconvenience of having to _pay_
for sermons, which I could not do in cash in these days of clerical
destitution, only in sermon paper, which I fear would not be accepted.
If I am accused of "cribbing sermons," I deny the charge with
indignation. I don't crib JEREMY, I _adapt_ him. Does every dramatist,
who adapts from the French, acknowledge the fact? Not at all! Neither
does -

Yours unblushingly,

BORROWED PLUME-AGE.


SIR, - My congregation is a rustic one. I have tried them with my own
sermons, but my pewrents suffered so severely in consequence, that I
have been obliged to give them up. Last Sunday (following the advice
of a lay friend of mine in Town, in whom I have much confidence) I
preached one of Prebendary SHEEPSHANKS' "Crampton Lectures" to them,
and the farmers and labourers seemed much impressed. There was, in
fact, hardly an open eye in Church during the hour and a half that the
delivery lasted. The Charity-School children, too, who sat through
the whole of it, only had to be physically admonished by their teacher
about once in every half-minute. When an old village dame
afterwards assured me that "she didn't know I was that larned," I
felt - momentarily - rather like a wolf in SHEEPSHANKS' clothes. But I
intend going through the course.

Yours, &c., PASTOR IGNOTUS.

* * * * *

SPORTING ANSWERS.

COUNTRY HOUSE.

TYRO. - You are quite right - a four-in-hand is worth two in the bush,
which, as you justly observe, no good wine needs. To handle the reins
correctly, proceed as follows. Divide the sum-total of all the reins
measured to a _millimètre_ by half a forefinger, no allowance being
made for chalk-stones, or stiff knuckles. Multiply the quotient by the
off-wheel-rein, and add the near leader's blinkers to the result. Then
pass your left thumb under your right middle finger, taking care
at the same time to tie the off-leading-rein round your neck in
a sailor's knot. Add six yards of whipcord to the near leader's
shoulders, subtract yourself from the box, and send us your doctor's
bill, for purposes of comparison.

WHO'S WHO? - (1) _Roundabout Sammy_ is a very promising horse, by
_Engineer_, out of _Little Joker_. He was not bred in France, for,


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Online LibraryVariousPunch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 104, April 22, 1893 → online text (page 1 of 2)