Punch, Or The London Charivari, Vol. 103, August 6, 1892 by Various
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Various >> Punch, Or The London Charivari, Vol. 103, August 6, 1892
PUNCH,
OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
VOL. 103.
August 6, 1892.
DRURIOLANUS IN (MUSIC) AULIS.
The Augustan Age is to be revived at the new Palace Theatre of
Varieties, late CARTE's English Opera House, for two of the imperial
name of AUGUSTUS are foremost among the Directors of this new
enterprise--which word "enterprise" is preferable to "undertaking."
Sir AUGUSTUS leads; and GEORGIUS AUGUSTUS follows in the cast as
Second Director,--with or without song is not mentioned. In comparison
with this transformation of an Opera House into a Theatre of
Varieties, no political combination of any sort or kind, no change
either in the Ministry or in our home or foreign policy, is so likely
to cause trouble to The Empire; i.e., the Empire in Leicester Square.
[Illustration: "AFTER THE OP'RA IS OVER."
Sir Augustus Coventgardenensis, the Singing-Bird Showman, bows his
Acknowledgments.]
We understand that Sir AUGUSTUS DRURIOLANUS, in addition to his
interest in Covent Garden, Drury Lane, the Royal English Opera House,
and various enterprises in town, country, and abroad, is about to
turn his attention to other matters. _On dit_ that he is in treaty
for St. Paul's Cathedral, Westminster Abbey, and the City Temple, for
a series of Sunday Oratorios. It is also not improbable that he may
become, for a short time, Lessee of Exeter Hall, Buckingham Palace,
and the Banqueting-hall of Hampton Court, for a series of Popular
Picture-Shows. No doubt he will bring from Russia a new and entire
Cosmopolitan Opera Company, to give a performance on the top of the
Monument. Should there be an overflow, the audience turned away will
be accommodated with seats in the Duke of York's Column. He is said
to be in negociation for novelties for next year's London Season in
various parts of the globe. It is possible that he may bring over the
entire "World's Show" from Chicago, to give a solitary performance
on an eligible spot recently acquired for this purpose in the
neighbourhood of Primrose Hill. It is not unlikely that he may
re-erect the ancient Pyramids at the back of Olympia, if satisfactory
arrangements can be made with the Egyptian Government. Looking to
the future, it is asserted that he has undertaken to accept the
stage-direction of the next European War with those nations bound
together in the Treaty of the Triple Alliance. Further--DRURIOLANUS
MAXIMUS is considering the transport to London of the North Pole,
laying the Zoological Gardens under contribution for a service of
bears to climb it. Sir DRURIOLANUS mustn't overdo it. He holds a
handful of cards, but he is so good a _prestidigitateur_ that he is
pretty sure to transform them into trumps. Likewise Sir DRURIO knows
how to perform on the Trump of Fame.
* * * * *
TOAST--We beg to propose the health of the liberal-minded purchaser of
the Althorp Library, who intends to keep the books in a building open
to all readers, adapting the toastmaster's phrase for the occasion,
and giving, "Our Noble Shelves!"
* * * * *
LAYS OF MODERN HOME.
NO. 4.--CHLOE'S APPROPRIATION CLAWS.
[Illustration]
A ye who bless the wedded state
With tributes born of generous blindness,
Bemourn the fate that well may wait
Your gifted kindness.
My CHLOE's ultra-modern mind
Transforms your Dresden's grace and Chelsea's,
The toys for special use designed,
To something else's.
For CHLOE reads each weekly print,
Where Art's resource is blent with Scandal's,
Where decorative females hint
Their cure for Vandals.
Your large, expensive Wedgwood bowls,
She bids her "Lor!"-exclaiming waitress
To cram with large, expensive coals,
The pretty traitress!
On daintiest overmantel's ledge
She sets enshrined your prosy platter;
Your salt-cellars she stocks with veg-
etable matter.
And when the Summer comes (if hail
For once not hails the sunny swallows)
Our fenders hold your statues pale
Of chipped Apollos.
With out-of-fashion toilet sets,
Their sprigs of ringstands, bits of boxes,
She picturesques her cabinet's
Quaint heterodoxies.
My blue tobacco-jar she'll hoard
For party-nights, and on the basket
Whereon my manuscripts are stored
Will throne--a casket!
"Ingenious" CHLOE, sure, opines
Is Genius' proper derivation;
"Appropriate" with her defines
Appropriation.
Poor STREPHON, fond, bewildered wight!
He doubts, amazed by changes showy,
If CHLOE's own be STREPHON quite,
Or STREPHON's, CHLOE!
* * * * *
BIRDS OF A FEATHER.
["He (Mr. GLADSTONE) has not as yet even secured the spoil,
but the Vultures are already gathered together."--_Mr.
Chamberlain at Birmingham._]
The Vultures, dear JOE? Nay, it needs no apology
To say you are out in your new ornithology.
The Vultures are carrion-birds, be it said;
And the Man and the Cause you detest are _not_ dead!
Much as his decease was desired, he's alive,
And the Cause is no carcase. So, JOE, you must strive
To get nearer the truth. Shall we help you? All fowls
Are not Vultures. For instance, dear JOE, there are Owls,
(Like JESSE) and Ravens much given to croaking,
(in Ulster they're noisy, though some think they're joking),
Then Parrots are plentiful everywhere, JOE,
(They keep on repeating your chatter, you know,
As they did in the days when you railed about ransom;
But Parrots are never wise birds, JOE, though handsome);
Then Geese, Jays, and Daws; yet they're birds of a feather,
And they, my dear JOSEPH, _are_ gathered together,
To hiss, squeal and peck at the Party they'd foil,
But who're like to secure--as you phrase it--"the spoil."
Yes, these be the birds most _en evidence_ now;
And by Jingo, my JOE, they _are_ raising a row.
They're full of cacophonous fuss, and loud spite;
And they don't take their licking as well as they might.
In fact, they're a rather contemptible crew;
And--well, of which species, dear JOSEPH, are _you_?
* * * * *
[Illustration: THE BEWILDERED TOURIST AND THE RIVAL SIRENS.
(_A LONG WAY AFTER TENNYSON'S "THE DESERTED HOUSE_.")
"_June and July have passed away,_
_Like a tide._
_Doors are open, windows wide._
_Why in stuffy London stay?_"
Sing the Sirens (slyboots they!)
With a Tennysonian twang,
To the Tourist,
(Not the poorest
You may bet your bottom dollar,
Which those Sirens aim to "collar."
_Demoiselles_, excuse the slang!)
"All within is dark as night,
In Town's windows is no light,
And no caller at your door,
Swell or beggar, chum or bore!
Close the door, the shutters close,
Or thro' windows folks will see,
The nakedness and vacancy,
Of the dark deserted house!"
"Come away! no more of mirth
Is here, or merry-making sound.
The house is shut, and o'er the earth
Man roves upon the Regular Round
Come away! Life, Love, Trade, Thought,
Here no longer dwell;
Shopkeepers censorious
Sigh, "What swells would buy, they've bought.
They are off! No more we'll sell.
Would they could have stayed with us!"
"Come away!" So Sirens sing--
Sly, seducious, and skittish--
To the Tourist, wealthy, British,
When Society's on the wing,
Or should be, for "Foreign Parts."
British BULL mistrusts their arts.
"Come away!"
(One doth say),
"_Our Emperor is quiet to-day!_"
Cries another,
"Come, my brother,
"_Avalanches down again!_"
Sings a third, with beckoning fingers,
"_Come, come, where the Cholera lingers_."
While a fourth--is it her fun?--
With the wide blue eyes of Hope
(As though advertising Soap),
Shouts, with glee,
"Come with me,
Unto Norroway, o'er the foam,
Far from home,
Wait there to see
Our (invisible) Midnight Sun!"
BULL, the tweed-clad British Tourist,
Muses--"Home seems the securest,
On the whole. Why widely ramble,
Tramp, and climb, and spend, and gamble,
Face infection, dulness, danger,
All the woe that waits "the Stranger,"
And the Tourist (rich) environs,
At the call of foreign Sirens,
When home charmers, bright-eyed, active,
Offer "metal more attractive?"
Four such darlings who'll discover
O'er the seas? Shall I, their lover,
Still discard them for yon minxes,
Harpies with the eyes of "lynxes"?
ALBION dear, and CAMBRIA mild,
CALEDONIA stern and wild,
As your poet said, but pretty;
HIBEBNIA mavourneen, jetty-
Hair'd, and azure-eyed, I greet ye!
Darlings, I am charmed to meet ye.
_Why_ go wandering o'er the foam,
Like a latter-day ULYSSES,
When warm charms and wooing-kisses
Of such Sirens Four wait me at home?"
* * * * *
[Illustration: UNLUCKY COMPLIMENT.
_Shoeblack_ (_wishing to please liberal and important Customer_).
"SHOULDN'T LIKE TO GET A KICK FROM _You_, Sin!" [_Gets one on the
spot._]
* * * * *
"L'HOMME PROPOSE--."
[Gentlemen are now coached "How to Propose."]
[Illustration]
They sat it out upon the stairs,
Those dear old stairs! Ah me; how many
A time they've cost, all unawares,
A pretty penny!
Why they were fools enough to go
To sit on stairs, and miss the fun,
Quite baffles me; but still, you know,
It _has_ been done.
The lights were low--lights often are--
I deem the fact though worth the noting,
And strains of music from afar
Came softly floating.
So whilst she pondered what Mamma
Would think, the band commenced to play
The epidemical "_Ta-ra-_
_ra-boom-de-ay!_"
He gazed into her eyes (of blue),
Sighed once as if it hurt him badly,
Then told her how 'twas but too true
He loved her madly.
With highly creditable skill
He turned the well-worn platitude--
His own unworthiness until
You really could
Not but admire each word, each look.
His speech was quite unrivalled in its
Intensity--in fact it took
At least ten minutes.
A peroration full of flowers,
A moisture in his other eye,
And then a pause--it seemed of hours--
For her reply.
Her answer came. He thought of it,
It haunted him for long years after,
She simply burst into a fit
Of ribald laughter.
And certainly it was absurd,
She laughed till she could laugh no more;
She'd heard the same thing, to a word,
The day before.
Two tyros in the Art of Love,
Each ARABELLA's ardent suitor,
Unluckily were pupils of
The self-same tutor!
So, should you fail to understand
A maiden's answer, this may show
Why sometimes Man proposes and
The Girl says "No!"
* * * * *
SKIRTS AND FIGURES.--M. JACOBI, of the Alhambra, has composed a
"Skirt-dance," which has recently appeared in the _Figaro_. That the
skirts for which the Composer has written are brand-new, and require
no mending, is evident from the fact that, from first to last, there
is no "Skirt-sew"--in Italian, _Scherzo_--movement.
* * * * *
A ROLLICKING SHOW.
In the International Horticultural Exhibition is, as advertised, "the
Kiosk of the Australian Irrigation Colonies (CHAFFEY Bros.)." What
fun the CHAFFEY Brothers must make of everything in the Exhibition!
As long as the other exhibitors don't mind the chaff of the CHAFFEY
Brothers, all will be harmonious. No doubt, round their Kiosk there
are crowds all day, in roars of laughter, at the chaffing perpetually
going on. The travelling Cheap Jack, were he in the building, would
have some difficulty to hold his own against even one of the CHAFFEY
Brothers, but pitted against an unlimited number of CHAFFEY Brothers,
for their number is not stated in the advertisement, the unfortunate
Cheap Jack would not be let, off cheaply. Apart from BUFFALO
BILL, whose Show with a variety of novelties, is still a very big
attraction, and the other amusements, this exhibit of CHAFFEY Brothers
engaged in chaff-cutting, must be about one of the most attractive
things in the Horticultural. By the way, in this same advertisement,
there is a mysterious announcement "Stand 48." Of course, if in
addition to their entertainment, they "stand 48 "--though with this
vintage we are not acquainted; perhaps it should be '84 Pommery,--then
the Brothers are simply _hors de concours_, and competition would be
hopeless.
* * * * *
THE VERY PLACE FOR THE NEXT SPARRING MATCH.--"Box Hill."
* * * * *
ON THE SANDS.
(_A SKETCH AT MARGATE._)
_Close under the Parade Watt a large circle has been formed,
consisting chiefly of Women on chairs and camp-stools, with an
inner ring of small children, who are all patiently awaiting
the arrival of a troupe of Niggers. At the head of one of
the flights of steps leading up to the Parade, a small and
shrewish Child-nurse is endeavouring to detect and recapture
a pair of prodigal younger Brothers, who have given her the
slip._
_Sarah_ (_to herself_). Wherever can them two plegs have got to?
(_Aloud; drawing a bow at a venture_) ALBERT! 'ENERY! Come up 'ere
this minnit. _I_ see yer!
_'Enery_ (_under the steps--to Albert_). I say--d'ye think she
_do_?--'cos if--
_Albert_. Not she! Set tight. [_They sit tight._]
_Sarah_ (_as before_). 'ENERY! ALBERT! You've bin and 'alf killed
little GEORGIE between yer!
_'Enery_ (_moved, to Albert_). Did you 'ear that, BERT? It wasn't _me_
upset him--was it now?
_Albert_ (_impenitent_). 'Oo cares! The Niggers'll be back direckly.
_Sarah_. AL-BERT! 'ENERY! Your father's bin down 'ere once after you.
You'll _ketch_ it!
_Albert_ (_sotto voce_). Not till Father ketches _us_, we shan't. Keep
still, 'ENERY--we're all right under 'ere!
_Sarah_ (_more diplomatically_). 'ENERY! ALBERT! Father's bin and left
a 'ap'ny apiece for yer. Ain't yer comin' up for it? If yer don't want
it, why, stay where you are, that's all!
_Albert_ (_to 'Enery_). I _knoo_ we 'adn't done nothin'. An' I'm goin'
up to git that ap'ny, I am.
_'Enery_. So'm I. [_They emerge, and ascend the steps--to be pounced
upon immediately by the ingenious SARAH._
_Sarah_. 'Ap'ny, indeed! You won't git no 'apence _'ere, I_ can tell
yer--so jest you come along 'ome with me!
[Illustration: "Come to these legs!"]
[_Exeunt ALBERT and 'ENERY, in captivity, as the Niggers
enter the circle._
_Bones._ We shall commence this afternoon by 'olding our Grand Annual
Weekly Singing Competition, for the Discouragement of Youthful Talent.
Now then, which is the little gal to step out first and git a medal?
(_The Children giggle, but remain seated._) Not one? Now I arsk
_you_--What _is_ the use o' me comin' 'ere, throwin' away thousands
and thousands of pounds on golden medals, if you won't take the
trouble to stand up and sing for them? Oh, you'll make me so wild, I
shall begin spittin' 'alf-sovereigns directly--I _know_ I shall! (_A
little Girl in a sun-bonnet comes forward._) Ah, 'ere's a young lady
who's bustin' with melody, _I_ can see. Your name, my dear? Ladies
and Gentleman, I have the pleasure to announce that Miss CONNIE COCKLE
will now appear. Don't curtsey till the Orchestra gives the chord.
(_Chord from the harmonium--the Child advances, and curtsies with much
aplomb._) Oh, lor! call _that_ a curtsey--that's a _cramp_, that
is! Do it all over again! (_The Child obeys, disconcerted._) That's
_worse_! I can see the s'rimps blushin' for yer inside their paper
bags! Now see Me do it. (Bones _executes a caricature of a curtsey,
which the little Girl copies with terrible fidelity_.) That's
_ladylike_--that's genteel. Now sing _out! (The Child sings the first
verse of a popular Music-hall song, in a squeaky little voice._) Talk
about nightingales! Come 'ere, and receive the reward for extinguished
incapacity. On your knees! (_The little Girl kneels before him while
a tin medal is fastened upon her frock._) Rise, Sir CONNIE COCKLE! Oh,
you _lucky_ girl!
_The Child returns, swelling with triumph, to her companions,
several of whom come out, and go through the same performance,
with more or less squeakiness and self-possession._
_First Admiring Matron_ (_in audience_). I do like to see the children
kep' out o' mischief like this, instead o' goin' paddling and messing
about the sands!
_Second Ad. Mat._ Just what _I_ say, my dear--they're amused and
edjucated 'ow to beyave at the same time!
_First Politician_ (_with the "Standard"_). No, but look here--when
GLADSTONE was asked in the House whether he proposed to give the
Dublin Parliament the control of the Police, what was his answer?
Why....
_The Niggers_ (_striking up chorus_). "Rum-tumty-diddly-umpty-doodah
dey! Rum-tumty--diddly--um," was all that he could say! And
the Members and the Speaker joined together in the lay. Of
"Rum--tumty-diddly-umty doodah-dey!"
_Second Pol._ (_with the "Star"_). Well, and what more would you have
_'ad_ him say? Come, now!
_Alf._ (_who has had quite enough ale at dinner--to his fiancee_).
These Niggers ain't up to much, Loo. Can't sing for _nuts_!
_Chorley_ (_his friend--perfidiously_). You'd better go in and show
'em how, old man. Me and Miss SERGE'll stay and see you take the shine
out of 'em!
_Alf_. P'raps you think I can't. But, if _I_ was to go upon the 'Alls
now, I should make my fortune in no time! Loo's 'eard me when I've
been in form, and she'll tell you--
_Miss Serge_. Well, I will say there's many a professional might learn
a lesson from ALF--whether Mr. PERKINS believes it or not.
[_Cuttingly, to "CHOH-LEY."_
_Chorley_. Now reelly, Miss Loo, don't come down on a feller like
that. I want to see him do you credit, that's all, and he couldn't
'ave a better opportunity to distinguish himself--now _could_ he?
_Miss Serge_. _I'm_ not preventing him. But I don't know--these
niggers keep themselves very select, and they might object to it.
_Alf_. I'll soon square _them_. You keep your eye on me, and I'll make
things a bit livelier! [_He enters the Circle._
_Miss Serge_ (_admiringly_). He _has_ got a cheek, I must say! Look
at him, dancing there along with those two Niggers--they don't hardly
know what to make of him yet!
_Chorley_. Do you notice how they keep kicking him beyind on the sly
like? I wonder he puts up with it!
_Miss S._ He'll be even with them presently--you see if he isn't.
[ALF _attempts to twirl a tambourine on his finger, and lets
it fall; derision from audience_; Bones _pats him on the head,
and takes the tambourine away--at which_ ALF _only smiles
feebly._
_Chorley._ It's a pity he gets so 'ot dancing, and he don't seem to
keep in step with the others.
_Miss S._ (_secretly disappointed_). He isn't used to doing the
double-shuffle on sand, that's all.
_The Conductor_. Bones, I observe we have a recent addition to our
Company. Perhaps he'll favour us with a solo. (_Aside to Bones._) 'Oo
is he? 'Oo let him in 'ere--_you_?
_Bones_. _I_ dunno. I thought _you_ did. Ain't he stood nothing?
_Conductor_. Not a brass farden!
_Bones_ (_outraged_). All right, you leave him to me. (_To ALF._) Kin
it be? That necktie! them familiar coat-buttons! that paper-dicky! You
are--you _are_ my long-lost Convick Son, 'ome from Portland! Come to
these legs! (_He embraces ALF, and smothers him with kisses._) Oh,
you've been and rubbed off some of your cheek on my complexion--you
_dirty_ boy! (_He playfully "bashes" ALF's hat in._) Now show the
comp'ny how pretty you can sing. (_ALF attempts a Music-hall ditty,
in which he, not unnaturally, breaks down._) It ain't my son's fault,
Ladies and Gentlemen, it's all this little gal in front here, lookin'
at him and makin' him shy! (_To a small Child, severely._) You
oughter know _worse_, you ought! (_Clumps of sea-weed and paper-balls
are thrown at ALF, who by this time is looking deplorably warm and
foolish._) Oh, what a popilar fav'rite he is to be sure!
_Charley_ (_to Miss S._). Poor fellow, he ain't no match 'for those
Niggers--not like he is now! Hadn't I better go to the rescue, Miss
Loo?
_Miss S._ (_pettishly_). I'm sure I don't care _what_ you do.
[_"CHORLEY" succeeds, after some persuasion, in removing the
unfortunate ALF._
_Alf._ (_rejoining his fiancee with a grimy face, a smashed hat, and a
pathetic attempt at a grin_). Well? I _done_ it, you see!
_Miss S._ (_crushingly_). Yes, you _have_ done it! And the best thing
you can do now, is to go home and wash your face. _I_ don't care to
be seen about with a _laughing-stock_, I can assure you! I've had my
dignity lowered quite enough as it is!
_Alf_. But look 'ere, my dear girl, I can't leave you here all by
yourself, you know!
_Miss S._ I daresay Mr. PERKINS will take care of me.
[_Mr. P. assents, with effusion._
_Alf._ (_watching them move away--with bitterness_). I wish
all Niggers were put down by Act of Parliament, I do! Downright
noosances--that's what _they_ are!
* * * * *
OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.
[Illustration: Ulysses on Tour.]
Ulysses has been travelling again, and the record of his journeyings
is set forth in _The Modern Odyssey_, which CASSELL & Co. publish in
one volume, with some charming illustrations in callotype.
My Baronite notes a quaint disposition on the part of the old
gentleman to begin at the very beginning. Thus, when he lands in New
York, he furnishes a brief account of COLUMBUS, and how he came to
discover America. The early history of Australia, and eke of China,
are dealt with in the same instructive manner. This is all very well
for ULYSSES, who comes fresh on the scene, and learns for the first
time all about the Genoese, about Captain COOK, and how "a little more
than a century ago eleven ships sailed from England," anchored in
the Bay where now Sydney stands, and--strange to say!--did not find
a populous city, but only green fields and a river running into the
sea. _Pour nous autres_, age has somewhat withered the bloom of this
story, and it might have been left peacefully slumbering in the
Encyclopaedias. But it can be skipped, and, for the rest, there will
be found a swift succession of pictures of life and scenery in the
Greater Britain that girdles the world. ULYSSES must have been much
struck with the change since he first went a gipsying. But of that he
discreetly says nothing.
BARON DE BOOK-WORMS & Co.
* * * * *
WE'VE GOT OUR LYNX EYE ON HIM!--In the _Times'_ legal reports for
Tuesday, July 26, 1892, Queen's Bench Division, Colonel FITZGEORGE
sued a Mr. ROLLS CALVERT LINK. Mr. CANNOT defended LINK. But CANNOT
Could Not do much for his client LINK, who did not appear. Evidently,
"The Missing Link."
* * * * *
"COURT ON!"
[Illustration: Stephensonius, B.C. (_date uncertain_), qui Jacobum
Fidelem scripsit. (From an old Bronze Medal.)]
The "Triple Bill" still going strong at the Court. The _New Sub_, a
smartly-written little One-Act Play, by SEYMOUR HICKS, notable for
good performance all round, but especially for the rendering of
_Mrs. Darlington_, by Miss GERTRUDE KINGSTON, of _Major Ensor_,
by BRANDON THOMAS, and of _Second-Lieutenant Darlington_, by Mr.
ERNEST BERTRAM--uncommonly Earnest BERTRAM. The Scene is in a Hut at
Shorncliffe. Hutcaetera. If _Lieutenant Crookendon's_ catch--phrase
about "a funny world" were repeated just about five times less
frequently than it is, the piece, the part, and the public would be
distinctly gainers.
[Illustration: Faithful James, as originally seen on the walls of
Winchester College.]
At 9:10, appears _Faithful James_, represented by Mr. WEEDON
GROSSMITH. It is a finished and quietly droll performance. The author,
Mr. B.C. STEPHENSON ("B.C." makes him quite a classic--date uncertain,
so his plot may have been done in collaboration, with PLAUTUS or
TERENCE) has reproduced from the French a neatly-constructed One-Act
piece, in which are all the possibilities of a Three-Act Criterion
or Palais Royal Farcical Comedy. So rapid is the action, all over in
about forty-five minutes, and so much to the point of the plot is the
dialogue, that an inattentive auditor would soon lose the thread of
the argument, never to pick it up again anywhere. Miss ELLALINE TERRIS
is just that very _Mrs. Duncan_. BRANDON THOMAS is a breezy, brusque,
and Admirable Admiral; and Mr. DRAYCOTT a hearty husband, very much
in love with his pretty little wife. Mr. LITTLE makes much, perhaps
almost a Little too much, of his small but essentially important
part,--they are all important parts,--and of Miss SYBIL GREY can be
said "_Nous savons Gre a Mlle. Sybil_." Mr. SIDNEY WARDEN's Character
Sketch of the young and rather raw German Waiter, is excellent; the
Waiter being "raw," is not overdone. Not a dull second in the farce.
Will our B.C. Author give us some of his adaptations from PLAUTUS,
TERENCE (some good old Irish plots of course, in the writings of
this author), and a few other ancients with whom he was, it is most
probable, personally and intimately acquainted. To think that the
_Wandering Jew_, who can only sign himself "A.D.", is "not in it" in
point of time with our STEPHENSON "B.C."!