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* * * * *

Punch, or the London Charivari

Volume 105, October 28th 1893

_edited by Sir Francis Burnand_

* * * * *


(_By a Tenant._)

Who asked a rent absurdly high;
Who never scrupled at a lie?
The house well built! The soil so dry!
My Landlord.

Whose saving schemes cause constant fears
The house will fall about my ears?
I say it totters, and he sneers.
My Landlord.

The cellar's flooded when it rains;
The ceilings show damp, mouldy stains.
Who swindled me about the drains?
My Landlord.

Who called the house extremely nice?
It's simply overrun with mice,
The cook has had hysterics twice.
My Landlord.

Who praised the garden in a way
To seem like Eden? I should say
The soil is brickbats mixed with clay.
My Landlord.

Who said each kind of plant succeeds?
Yet when I sow the choicest seeds
They all develop into weeds.
My Landlord.

What's this? A note from him - a few
Short lines to say the rent is due.
Who tells me facts not new, if true?
My Landlord.

* * * * *

A SUGGESTION. - A decoration for JABEZ BALFOUR, - "The Order of the
Golden Fleece."

* * * * *

[Illustration: RECKLESS.

_Moderate Swell._ "GOING TO TAKE A CAB?"

_Immoderate Swell._ "ER - NO."



* * * * *


(_By a Landlord._)

Who haggled long about the price;
Who says my house is far from nice;
Who seeks solicitor's advice?
My Tenant.

Who wants incessantly repairs
To floors and ceilings, steps and stairs;
Who doats on hygienic scares?
My Tenant.

Who lives in fear of sewer gas,
So that the plumbers soon amass
Vast sums, once mine? That utter ass,
My Tenant.

Eternally some fresh complaint;
Distemper, whitewash, paper, paint!
He is enough to vex a saint -
My Tenant.

Who lets the garden go to pot?
What used to be a pleasant spot
Is worse than an allotment plot.
My Tenant.

Deferring payments suits his bent;
When various demands I've sent;
Unwillingly he pays the rent,
My Tenant.

A note from him? Another growl!
Some chimney smokes, he wants a cowl.
Thus he complains, that moping owl,
My Tenant.

* * * * *

Mrs. R. says she always understood you must "catch your hare before
you cook it;" so she cannot for the life of her make out what a friend
of hers meant by telling her that "when their kitchen-maid cooked the
hare _she caught it afterwards_!"

* * * * *


_Monday._ - Rather tired of this constant hand-shaking, and even the
lady-kissing is somewhat wearisome. Especially when the fair dames do
not draw the line at sixty. However, no doubt well meant. Found usual
collection of miscellaneous presents. Don't quite know what I shall
do with ton of tallow. Somehow our hosts fancy we require it. Latest
addition from the advertising merchants - a Patent Tombstone (with
space for _affiches_ at back) and Somebody's Remedy for Neuralgia.
Wish our hosts would not send us such a lot of things! Have been
staying at my hotel all day long on the chance of escaping attention,
and thus be able to find my way to the Moulin Rouge. Just got past the
porter, when I was caught by one of the _attachés_ and carried off to
a State Dinner. Spent the rest of the evening in shouting "Long Live
France!" and listening to the Russian National Hymn.

_Tuesday._ - Hope I shall have better luck to-day. My hand is twice
its normal size, thanks to the shaking. More presents. Candles by
the hundredweight, and bear's-grease by the ton. Some one has sent a
Boot-blacking Machine, and wants a testimonial. On the watch all day.
Trust to get to the Folies Bergères some time or another. Just crawled
out when seized by a friendly _député_, and hurried off to a function
at the Hotel de Ville!

_Wednesday._ - Absolutely done up. Deafened with the "_Marseillaise_,"
and sick to death of "_The Emperor's Hymn_." Usual collection of
presents. Five thousand fire-alarms! One of them alone enough to wake
up a slumbering town of half a million inhabitants! Ladies of all ages
(especially of mature age) anxious to kiss me. Could not walk across
the road this morning for them! Had to stop in the hotel all day long.
Tried to escape in the evening on the chance of finding my way to a
"concert-music-hall," when seized by an officer of the French Marine,
and carried away to a Reception!

_Thursday._ - I have now been in Paris four days and seen nothing,
absolutely nothing! Of course most gratifying from a patriotic point
of view, but if this is Paris why give me St. Petersburg, or even
Siberia! Can't move a step without having my hand shaken off. Not a
moment's privacy; and as for the presents, I am absolutely deluged
with them! and such idiotic gifts! All the advertisers in the
country seem to have found us out. What use on earth can I make of an
elephant's feeding-spoon or a lady's comb for curling the hair? I made
a last effort to get to the Moulin; but, of course, again frustrated.
I was seized by an "A.-D.-C." and taken to a State Lecture!

_Friday._ - Giving way to despair! What a hollow thing is popular
applause! I am absolutely tired to death of it. I cannot repeat (for
very weariness), the various ovations I have received. I have been
accepted with cheers at all hours of the day and night! Oh, how glad
I would be to get back! At the last moment I saw my way to a stealthy
visit to the Folies, when I was secured and booked for two dinners and
a "_punch_." Betrayed! Betrayed!

_Saturday._ - Still hunted. Not allowed to go anywhere except when
my tormentors drag me to some official function. Have sold all my
presents for ten francs. Have received marching orders for Toulon.
Just as I was about to escape and proceed to the Moulin Rouge,
captured by "my friends the enemy," or should it be "my enemies the
friends"? Had to submit to the usual enthusiasm on my road to the
railway station. Fortune of war I suppose, or rather of peace. Of the
two, the latter I should think was the more deadly. Last strain of the
"_Marseillaise_," last kiss from some one's grandmother, and curtain!
Glad it's all over!

* * * * *

BY MR. JUSTICE CHARLES (_omitted in reports of his decision last
week_). - "The Dahomey Troupe of Amazons appear only in the evenings
at certain music-halls. Their name should be changed to 'Day-homey and
Night-outy Amazons.'"


* * * * *

THE CHESHIRE CRUELTY TO CHILDREN CASE. - Rightly were condemned the two
unfeeling PHELANS. No jury could possibly have any consideration
for such PHELANS as these. If for the male prisoner the jury had
recommended a tail or two of the Cheshire Cat (o'-nine-tails), it
would not have been thought too much.

* * * * *

MOTTO FOR MR. INDERWICK, Q.C. - The eminent Counsel of the QUEEN has
been recently admitted to the freedom of the borough of Rye. He has
added to his coat of arms the words, "Mind your Rye."

* * * * *

LATEST SPEECH. - "The Autocrat of the Round Table."

* * * * *


(_Mr. Asquith's Speech, Tuesday, October 17._)]

* * * * *

[Illustration: TOO PARTICULAR.



* * * * *


["The present Government is eminently a Scottish Government.
You must remember that there are in the present Cabinet no
less than five Scotch members of the House of Commons ... and
we have also a member of the House of Lords who is one of the
most eminent Scotchmen - I mean Lord ROSEBERY." - _Mr. Asquith
in Glasgow._]

"_A Sassenach chief may be bonily built,
He may purchase a sporran, a bonnet, a kilt;
Stick a skeän in his hose - wear an acre of stripes -
But he cannot assume an affection for pipes._"

- _Bab Ballads._

AIR - "_The Hundred Pipers._"

Wi' sax stalwart pipers an' a', an' a',
Wi' sax Scotch pipers an' a', an' a',
We'll up an' gie them a blaw, a blaw,
Wi' sax stout Scotch pipers an' a', an' a',
Oh! it's Sassenach bummlers awa', awa'!
Our WULLIE'S a Scotsman sae braw, sae braw,
We'll on an' we'll march to St. Stephen's ha',
Wi' its seats an' its salaries an' a', an' a'!
Wi' sax Scotch pipers an' a', an' a', &c.

Oh! wha' is formaist o' a', o' a'?
Oh! wha' does follow the blaw, the blaw?
Bonnie WULLIE, the king o' us a', hurrah!
Wi' his five stout pipers an' a', an' a'!
His bonnet an' feather he's wavin' high.
His bagpipes wheeze, an' his ribbons fly;
The nor' win' plays wi' his thin white hair,
While the pipers blaw wi' an unco' flare.
Wi' sax Scotch pipers an' a', an' a', &c.

PRIMROSE, an' CAMPBELL, sae dink an' sae deep,
Shouther to shouther wi' _Marjoribanks_ they keep,
Dance themselves dry to the pibroch's sound.
Dumfoundered the English saw, they saw,
Dumfoundered they heard the blaw, the blaw
Hath a Southron ae chance ava' ava',
Wi' these sax Scotch pipers an' a', an' a'?
Wi' the sax Scotch pipers an' a', an' a',
The Saxon must go to the wa', the wa'!
WULLIE'S up an' gies them a blaw, a blaw
Wi' his sax Scotch pipers an' a', an' a'!

* * * * *

Students of Pickwick._ - On what (as far as this questioner is aware)
solitary occasion is champagne mentioned in _Pickwick_? who drank
a bottle of it? where was it consumed? after what exhilarating
performance? - ED.

* * * * *

"_TA TA'_D AND FEATHERED." - "_A soft thing that waves_" was the
description of a feather given by a Lady Correspondent - and therefore
a perfectly Fair One - in the _Times_ last Saturday. But surely "_a
soft thing that waves_" is evidently a lady's hand bidding somebody
"_Ta! ta!_"

* * * * *

BY OUR OWN CRAMMER. - In unsuccessful candidates for Army and Navy
Exams. England may have lost some of her best "pluck'd" soldiers and

* * * * *


(_By a Gallio._)

["Poetry will degenerate into mere literary _bric-à-brac_,
such as the composition of rondels and triolets." - DR. C. H.

Literary odds and ends
Will for lays be scribbled!
PEARSON thus ahead portends
"Litter"-ary odds and ends.
Pessimist, you owe amends
For this forecast ribald: -
"Literary odds and ends
Will for lays be scribbled!"

Call you then mere _bric-à-brac_
Triolet and rondel?
_All_ that's knocked off with a knack
Call you then mere _bric-à-brac_?"
Man of prose, you thus attack
Call you _then_ mere _bric-à-brac_
Triolet and rondel?!

'Pon my word, _I_ don't much care
If you prove your thesis.
Poetry's not _my_ affair -
'Pon my word, I don't much care!
My three triolets pray tear
As you please, to pieces!
'Pon my word, I don't much care
If _they_ prove your thesis!

* * * * *

The recent illuminations in Paris, it is said, were a very costly
matter. Naturally, as an "_affaire de LUX(E)_."

* * * * *


(_A Story in Scenes._)

SCENE XI. - _At the entrance to The Eldorado Music-hall._
TIME - _Saturday evening, about_ 8.30. Mrs. TOOVEY, _who has just
alighted from a Waterloo bus, approaches; she wears a veil, under
which her spectacles gleam balefully, and passes the various boards
and coloured posters with averted eyes_.

_Mrs. Toovey_ (_to herself_). I'm late - I ought to have taken a cab,
instead of that dawdling bus. Still, I shall be in plenty of time to
surprise Pa in the very midst of his profligacy. (_She looks
around her._) Gilding, rosewood and mahogany panels, plush, stained
glass - oh, the wicked luxury of it all! (_She pushes open a swing
door._) Where is the place you call Box C? I - I have to meet somebody

[_She finds herself in a glittering bar, where she produces a
distinct sensation among a few loungers there._

_A Barmaid_ (_tartly_). There's no entrance to the music-hall this
way. You've come to the wrong place.

_Mrs. Toov._ (_with equal acidity_). Ah, young woman, you need not
tell me _that_! (_She goes out with a withering glance, and hears
stifled sniggers as the doors swing after her._) A drinking-bar on the
very threshold to trap the unwary - disgraceful! (_She tries the next
door, and finds a stalwart official, in a fancy uniform._) Will you
have the goodness to conduct me to Box C, instantly?

_The Official._ Next door, please, Ma'am. This only admits to the
Grand Lounge.

_Mrs. Toov._ (_to herself_). The "Grand Lounge," indeed! (_She opens
another door, and finds a Pay-box, where she addresses the check-taker
through the pigeon-hole_.) I want to go to Box C. I've asked for it at
I don't know how many places, and - -

_Checktaker_ (_politely_). I'm really afraid you'll have to ask again,
Ma'am. This is the Promenade. Box-office _next_ entrance.

_Mrs. Toov._ (_to herself, indignantly_). I only hope they make it as
difficult for other people to get in as they do for me! So Pa comes
here to lounge and promenade, does he? Oh, let me only catch him, I'll
send him promenading! (_She goes to the Box-office._) I want Box C,
wherever that is.

_Book-Keeper._ Can give you Box D, if you like. Box C is reserved for
this evening.

_Mrs. Toov._ (_sharply_). I am quite aware of that. For Mr. THEOPHILUS
TOOVEY. I have come to join him here.

_Book-K._ (_referring to book_). It is entered in that name,
certainly; but - hem - may I ask if you belong to Mr. TOOVEY'S party?

_Mrs. Toov._ (_crushingly_). No doubt you consider that his wife has
no claim to - - Most certainly I belong to his party.

_Book-K._ That is quite sufficient, Madam. (_To_ Attendant.) Show this
lady to Box C. (_To himself, as_ Mrs. T. _follows the_ Attendant _up
some velvet-covered stairs_.) Well, it's no business of mine; but if
Mr. TOOVEY, whoever _he_ is, isn't careful what he's about, he may be
sorry for it - that's all!

_Mrs. Toov._ (_to herself_). They never even asked for my ticket.
Pa's evidently well known here! (_To_ Attendant.) A programme? with
pictures of dancing girls all over it! You ought to be ashamed to
offer such things to a respectable woman!

_Att._ (_surprised_). I've never heard them objected to before, Ma'am.
Can I bring you any refreshments? (_Persuasively._) Bottle-ale or
stout? Lemonade and brandy? Whisky and soda?

_Mrs. Toov._ Don't imagine you can tempt _me_, man. I've been a total
abstainer ever since I was five!

_Att._ (_opening box-door_). Indeed, Ma'am. I suppose now you 'aven't
mistook this for Exeter 'All? - because it _ain't_!

_Mrs. Toov._ I am in no danger of making _that_ mistake! (_She enters
the box._) I am here before Pa after all. What a gaudy, wicked,
glaring place to be sure! Ugh, this _filthy_ tobacco; it chokes me,
and I can scarcely see across the hall. Not that I _want_ to see.
Well, if I sit in the corner behind the curtain I shan't be seen
myself. To think that I - _I_ - should be here at all, but the
responsibility is on Pa's head, not mine! What are those two girls
singing about on the stage? They are dressed _decently_ enough, I'll
say _that_ for them, though pinafores and baby bonnets at _their_ age
are ridiculous.

[_She listens._

_The Sisters Sarcenet_ (_on stage_).
You men are deceivers and awfully sly. Oh, you _are_!

_Male portion of audience_ (_as is expected from them_).
No we _aren't!_

_The Sisters S._ (_archly_). Now you _know_ you are!
You come home with the milk; should your poor wife ask why,
"Pressing business, my pet!" you serenely reply.
When you've really been out on the "Tiddle-y-hi!" Yes, you _have_!

_Male audience_ (_as before_). No, we've _not_!
_The Sister S._ (_with the air of accusing angels_).
Why, you _know_ you have!

_Mrs. Toov._ (_to herself_). It's to those young women's credit that
they have the courage to come here and denounce the men to their
faces - like this. And it's gone _home_ to them, too! they're shouting
out "Over!" (_Here the Sisters suddenly turn a couple of "cart-wheels"
with surprising unanimity, amidst roars of applause._) Oh, the
shameless minxes! I will _not_ sit and look on at such scandalous
exhibitions. (_She moves to the corner nearest the stage, and turns
her back upon the proceedings._) How much longer will Pa compel me to
assist at such scenes, I wonder? _Why_ doesn't he come? Where is he
now? (_Bitterly._) No doubt on what those vulgar wretches would call
the "Tiddle-y-hi!" (_The_ Brothers BIMBO, _Eccentric Clowns, appear on
the stage_.) I can't sit here in a corner looking at nothing. If I do
see anything improper, THEOPHILUS shall answer for it. (_She changes
her place again._) Acrobats - well, they're inoffensive at least. Oh, I
do believe one of the nasty things is climbing up to the balcony; he's
going to walk along here!

_First Brother Bimbo_ (_on stage, to his confrère, who is balancing
himself on the broad ledge of the box tier_). Ohè - 'old up, there.
Prenny garde! Ah, il tombera! There, I _told_ yer so! (_The_ Second
Brother B. _has reached the front of_ Mrs. TOOVEY'S _box, where he
pretends to stumble_.) Oh, le pover garçong, look at 'im _now_! Come
back, do! Ask the lady to ketch 'old of your trousers be'ind!

_Mrs. Toov._ (_to the_ Second Brother, _firmly_). Don't expect me to
do anything of the sort. Go back, as your brother asks you to, you
silly fellow. You shouldn't attempt such a foolhardy thing at all!

_Second Br. B._ (_to the_ First). Oh, my! There's _such_ a nice young
lady in here; she's asking me to come in and set along with her! _May_

[_He lets himself drop astride the ledge, and wags his head
at_ Mrs. TOOVEY, _to her intense horror_.

_Mrs. Toov._ (_in an audible undertone_). If you don't take away that
leg at once, I'll pinch it!

_Second Br. B._ Eh? Not _now_; my brother says I mustn't. "Come round
afterwards?" Well, well, we'll see! (_He springs up on the ledge
again, and kisses his hand to her._) Goo'bye, ducky! 'Ave no fears for
_me_. Whoo-up!

[Illustration: "Goo'bye, ducky! Ave no fears for _me_!"]

[_He continues his tour of the balcony, amidst roars of

_Mrs. Toov._ (_falling back in the box, speechless with fury_). And
_this_ is the treatment Pa exposes me to - all those unmanly wretches
laughing at me! But I don't care; here I stay till Pa comes. _Oh_,
this smoke; I shall be poisoned by it soon! Upon my word, there's
a bold hussy coming on to sing, in a man's coat and black satin
knee-breeches. I'll stop my ears; they shall see there's _one_
woman here who respects herself! (_She does so, during that and the
subsequent performances; an hour passes._) How much longer am I to be
compelled to remain here? This is terrible; three creatures in tight
red suits, got up to look like devils! I wonder they've no fear of
being struck dead on the stage! They're standing on each other's
stomachs. I daren't look on at such blasphemy! I'll take off my
spectacles; then, at least, my eyes won't be offended by seeing
anything distinctly! (_She removes her glasses, and replaces them in
their case, which she lays on the box-ledge._) They're gone, thank
goodness. What's this? There's someone opening the box-door. Pa - at
last! Well, I'm ready for him!

[_She stiffens in her chair._

_Attendant's Voice_ (_outside_). This is Box C, Miss. Can I bring you
any refreshments? Bottle-ale, stout, lemonade, Miss?

_A Female Voice._ I - I don't know. There's a gentleman with me; he'll
be here directly; he only stopped to speak to somebody. Ah, he's
coming now.

_Mrs. Toov._ "Miss"?! This is Pa's party, then. _Oh!!_

[_A quietly dressed, and decidedly good-looking girl enters,
and starts on seeing that the box is already occupied._

_Mrs. Toov._ (_rising in towering wrath_). You were not expecting to
find _me_ here, Miss, I've no doubt?

_The Girl_ (_sitting down_). No; PHIL didn't say there would be anyone
else; but any friend of his I'm sure - -

_Mrs. Toov._ PHIL? you dare to call him "PHIL!" Do you know who I am,
you insolent girl, you? I am his Wife!

_The Girl._ His wife? I don't believe it. Are you sure you don't mean
his mother. My _Phil_ married to _you_, indeed - a pretty story!

_Mrs. Toov._ (_trembling with rage_). Go out of this box instantly, or
I'll make you!

_The Girl._ I shall do nothing of the kind. Wait till my friend comes,
and we'll soon - - (_As the door opens._) PHIL, PHIL, here's an abusive
old female here who pretends she is your wife, and wants to order me
out. I believe she must either be intoxicated or out of her senses!

_Mrs. Toov._ (_pouncing upon the newcomer and boxing his ears
soundly_). Is she? it is you who are out of _your_ senses, Pa! Take
that - and _that_ - and now come home with me, do you hear?

_The Newcomer_ (_with his hand to his cheek_). "Pa," am I? I thought
I was your _husband_ just now! Well, I must have married before I
was born, either way. And now, perhaps, you'll explain what all this

_Mrs. Toov._ (_faintly_). Oh, my goodness! I've made a dreadful
mistake; it _isn't_ Pa! Let me go - let me go!

_The Newc._ (_putting his back against the door_). Not yet, Ma'am; not
yet. You don't go like this; after insulting this young lady, to whom
I've the honour of being engaged, and telling her you're my wife, and
then smacking my face in her presence. I've my dignity to consider,
and I want satisfaction out of you. Come, we won't have a row here,
for the sake of this young lady; just step out into lobby here, and
I'll give you in charge for assault. Stay where you are, MILLY, my
dear. Now, Ma'am, will you go, or shall I send for a constable?
(Mrs. T. _totters out, protesting incoherently, and begging to be
released_.) Well, I don't want to spoil my evening's pleasure on your
account. You give me your name and address, and I'll simply summon you
for assault; which is more than you deserve. If you won't, I'll charge

_Mrs. Toov._ (_reluctantly_). Oh, indeed it was an acc - - I will
_not_ give you my name. Yes, yes, I will; anything to get out of this
horrible place. (_The young man produces a pencil, and pulls down
his left shirt cuff._) Mrs. - TOO - no, I don't mean TOO - TOMKINSON
JONES - The - the Laburnums - U - upper Tooting. There, _now_ are you

_The Young Man_ (_recording it_). Thank you, that's all _I_ require.
You'll hear from me later on. Good evening!

_Mrs. Toov._ (_as she crawls down the staircase_). I have only just
saved myself by a - a _fib_! And I haven't even found Pa out. But I
_will_. I'll go straight home and sit up for him!


* * * * *


(_A popular Song adapted to the Glacial Period._)


* * * * *


(_Picked up at Toulon after the recent Fêtes._)


I am glad to be next to a Russian. Believe me, France has always been
the best friend of Russia.... No, _that_ was not France - it was the

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