Punch, Or the London Charivari, Volume 103, July 16, 1892 by Various
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Various >> Punch, Or the London Charivari, Volume 103, July 16, 1892
PUNCH,
OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
VOL. 103.
July 16, 1892.
TO THE FIRST BATHING-MACHINE.
(_AFTER WORDSWORTH._)
O blank new-comer! I have seen,
I see thee with a start:
So gentle looking a Machine,
Infernal one thou art!
When first the sun feels rather hot,
Or even rather warm,
From some dim, hibernating spot
Rolls forth thy clumsy form.
Perhaps thou babblest to the sea
Of sunshine and of flowers;
Thou bringest but a thought to me
Of such bad quarter hours.
I, grasping tightly, pale with fear,
Thy very narrow bench,
Thou, bounding on in wild career,
All shake, and jolt, and wrench.
Till comes an unexpected stop;
My forehead hits the door,
And I, with cataclysmic flop,
Lie on thy sandy floor.
Then, dressed in Nature's simplest style,
I, blushing, venture out;
And find the sea is still a mile
Away, or thereabout.
Blithe little children on the sand
Laugh out with childish glee;
Their nurses, sitting near at hand,
All giggling, stare at me.
Unnerved, unwashed, I rush again
Within thy tranquil shade,
And wait until the rising main
Shall banish child and maid.
Thy doors I dare not open now,
Thy windows give no view;
'Tis late; I will not bathe, I vow:
I dress myself anew.
Set wide the door. All round is sea!
"Hold tight, Sir!" voices call,
And in the water, jerked from thee,
I tumble, clothes and all!
O blessed thing! this earth we pace
Thy haunt should never be,
A quite unmentionable place
That is fit home for thee!
* * * * *
[Illustration: ELECTION INTELLIGENCE.
_Brilliant Elector_ (_at the Polling Station_). "IT'S A STOUTISH
KOIND OF A MAN, WITH A BALD 'EAD, AS AR WISHES TO VOTE FOR, BUT AR 'M
BLESSED IF AR KNOW 'IS NAAeME!!"]
* * * * *
STUDIES IN THE NEW POETRY.
NO. III.
It is with the greatest possible pleasure that _Mr. Punch_ presents
to his readers the following example of the New Poetry. It is taken
from a collection entitled "_Rhymes of the Ropes_" These Rhymes are
intended to illustrate the everyday life of the British prize-fighter,
his simple joys, his manly sorrows, his conversational excellences,
and his indomitable pluck. The author has never been a prize-fighter
himself, but he claims for these Rhymes the merit of absolute truth
in every detail. In any case it is quite certain that every critic
who reviews the volume will say of it, that no previous book has
ever presented to us, with such complete fidelity, the British
prize-fighter as he lives and moves, and has his being--not the gaudy,
over-dressed and over-jewelled creature whom the imagination of the
public pictures as haunting the giddy palaces of pleasure, and adored
by the fairest of the fair, but the rough, uncouth, simple creature
to whom we Britons owe our reputation for pluck and stamina. How the
critic knows this, never having been a prize-fighter himself, and
never having associated with them, is a question which it might be
difficult to answer. But, nevertheless, the critic will guarantee the
"_Rhymes of the Ropes_."
If some of _Mr. Punch's_ readers, while recognising the force and go
of the lines, shall think them _tant soit peu_ coarse and brutal, the
fault must not be ascribed to _Mr. Punch_, but to the brilliant young
author. Moreover, _Mr. Punch_ begs leave to say, that squeamishness
of that kind is becoming more and more absurd every day under the
influence of the New Poetry and its professors. Here then is--
KNOCKED OUT.
BY MR. R*D**RD K*PL*NG.
Oh it's bully when I land 'em with a counter on the jaw,
When the ruby's all a drippin' and the conks are red and raw;
And it's bully when I've downed 'em, and the lords are standin'
booze,
Them lords with shiny shirt-fronts, and their patent-leather shoes.
But you'd best look jolly meek
When you're up afore the beak,
For they hustle you, and bustle you, and treat you like a dog.
And its 'Olloway for you
For a month or may be two,
Where the Widow keeps a mansion and purvides you with your prog.
It was 'ero 'ere and 'ero there, I might 'ave been a King,
For to 'ear 'em 'ip 'urraying as I stepped into the ring,
When I faced the Tipton Slasher, me and 'im in four-ounce gloves,
Just to make us look as 'armless as a pair o' bloomin' doves.
Then I bruises 'im and batters,
And 'e cuts my lips to tatters,
And I gives 'im 'alf a dozen where 'is peepers ought to be.
And 'e flattens out my nose
With a brace of bally blows,
Which I 'ardly 'ad expected from a pug as couldn't see.
Next round the Slasher's groggy, 'e 'angs 'is 'ands and gropes
(I'd knocked him orf 'is legs at last) a-feelin' for the ropes.
And, lor, 'e looked so cheerful with 'is face a mask of red
That I bust myself with laughin' when I bashed 'im on the 'ead.
Then they counted up to ten,
But 'e couldn't rise again;
'E gasped a bit, and puffed a bit, and laid there in a 'eap.
And I copped a thousand pounds
For a fight of seven rounds,
Which was all the time it took me for to put my man to sleep.
Ah, the soft uns call it brutal; there's Mr. H.P. COBB,
And 'is talk, which isn't pretty, about ruffians (meanin' us).
I'd like to tap _'is_ claret when 'e's up and on the job,
And send 'im 'ome a 'owlin' to 'is mammy or 'is nuss.
But I'd rather take the chuck
For a show of British pluck,
And do my month in chockee, and eat my skilly free;
And I'll leave the curs to snivel
With their 'Ouse o' Commons drivel,
Which may suit a pack of jaw-pots, but, by gosh, it don't suit me.
* * * * *
"What I suffer from, at this time of year, when I go into the
country," says Mrs. R., "is 'Flybites.'" She pronounced it as a word
of three syllables, and then added, "I rather think the learned way of
spelling it is 'Phlybites.'"
* * * * *
[Illustration: CORIOLANUS.
"I WOULD HE HAD CONTINU'D TO HIS COUNTRY
AS HE BEGAN, AND NOT UNKNIT, HIMSELF,
THE NOBLE KNOT HE MADE."--_Coriolanus_, Act. IV., Scene 2.]
* * * * *
[Illustration: HENGENIOUS IDEA.
_Early Visitor._ "WHY, WHAT ON EARTH ARE YOU DOING, MATHILDE,--TURNING
YOUR BOUDOIR INTO A POULTRY YARD?"
_Mathilde._ "WELL, MY DEAR, AS IT IS IMPOSSIBLE TO RELY ON GETTING
NEW-LAID EGGS IN TOWN, I HAVE HAD MY PET COCHIN-CHINA UP FROM THE
COUNTRY, AND SHE IS THOROUGHLY TO BE TRUSTED!"]
* * * * *
CORIOLANUS.
"I would he had continu'd to his country
As he began, and not unknit, himself,
The noble knot he made."
_Coriolanus_, Act IV., Scene 2.
"His Majesty discriminates between the Prince BISMARCK of former
times, and of to-day, and is anxious that his Government should avoid
everything which might tend to diminish, in the eyes of the German
nation, the familiar figure of its greatest Statesman."--_Instructions
to Imperial German Representatives abroad:_--
Can this be he who "At the Gates"[1]
Of Janus' Temple stood of old,
Protective, vigilant, and bold,
As one who calmly dares--and waits?
"_So fancy limns him, who'll not cease
To watch o'er what his brain upbuilt_,"
_Punch_ sang. And now he lifts the hilt,
Warlike, against a Patriot Peace.
Calm warder then, challenger now.
The tower he reared would he attack,
Because--they have not called him back
Like CINCINNATUS from the plough?
"The wounds that he doth bear for Rome,"
Should speak wide-lipped against the change.
The new _Coriolanus_! Strange,
So great a past to _this_ should come!
The imperious Roman, banished, bared
Against Rome's walls a traitor blade.
But _you_--revenge is scarce your trade,
Hero, in faction's mazes snared.
The shirt of Nessus poisoned not,
Nor angered Hercules as you
Seem angered, poisoned. Yet you knew
On ARNIM's shield to bare the blot.
What should it say, Count HARRY's ghost,
Could it beside your couch appear,
And whisper in his foeman's ear?
Share you not that which shamed him most?
_You_ flaunt the Press against the Throne?
_You_ bare State secrets to the crowd?
You who against the Mob were loud,
With mockery MARCIUS well might own?
It doth not fit a splendid past.
The Sentinel in arms arrayed
Against the Citadel, a shade
Of gloom o'er glory's sheen will cast.
The illustrious name of BISMARCK blot
With no such treason as could dim
The Roman's glory, nor, like him.
Yourself unknit _your_ "noble knot"!
[Footnote 1: _See_ Cartoon "At the Gates," p. 151, vol. 85, year
1883.]
* * * * *
THAT DUTCHMAN OOMS.
AIR--"_THE ADMIRAL'S BROOM_."
[J.J.K. OOMS, an amateur sculler from Amsterdam, won easily
the "Diamond Sculls" at Henley this year, beating V. NICKALS,
and others of our crack oars.]
Oh, OOMS was a champion brave and bold,
The Dutchman's pride was he;
And he cried, "I can row on the Thames, I know,
As well as the Zuyder Zee,
As well as the Zuyder Zee!"
And as his boat he set afloat,
And looked o'er the Henley tide,
He saw all England taking note,
And he trimmed his sculls and cried:--(_Bis._)
"I'll win those 'Sculls!'" said he,
"The 'Diamond Sculls' for me!
That the world may know, wherever I go
Thames yields to the Zuyder Zee!" (_Bis._)
Cried JOHN BULL, "Here! You Dutchman queer.
To-day you must row with me;
For while I ride Thames' silver tide,
I'll be second to none," said he;
"I'll be second to none," said he.
So they blazed away at that Dutchman gay,
Stout NICKALS, brave BOYD, and all--
_But_ the Dutchman's ship our best did whip,
And BULL cried to his merry men all, (_bis_)
"We're whipped, boys, for once," said he,
"It's a whip that's a licker to me."
Right well OOMS pulls, and the 'Diamond Sculls'
Are gone to the Zuyder Zee!
VAN TROMP with his broom made free,
But this OOMS has "swept" Hen-ley.
Here's his health! But oh! those Sculls, you know,
Must come back from the Zuyder Zee."
* * * * *
SOME COMFORT.--Harrow beat Eton at Lords' last week. The Etonians have
some consolation in the fact of the Head-Master of Harrow being an
Etonian. Without doing violence to their feelings, they can simply
pronounce the Head-Master's name, and say, "_Well done, Harrow!_"
* * * * *
NEW READING OF AN OLD GREEK PROVERB (_by a disappointed Author, whose
Work has been recently cut up in the Press_).--"[Greek: Kretai aei
Pseustai]." _I.e._, "Critics are always liars."
* * * * *
[Illustration: UNFAIR ADVANTAGE.
_Gladstonian Dentist_ (_to Tory Patient_). "I HAVE THE MOST PROFOUND
ADMIRATION--MOUTH A LITTLE MORE OPEN, THANKS--FOR THAT GREAT MAN,
GLADSTONE,--AND IT WAS ONLY LAST WEEK--&c. &c. &c."]
* * * * *
ON THE FLY-LEAF OF AN OLD BOOK.
It's long been loose; at last it's quite
Come out--the very thing to write
My laundry list on. Think what might
Have been upon it!
Some lines by GOLDSMITH, neatly planned,
A verse by BYRON, mighty grand,
Or even, penned by SHAKSPEARE's hand,
A song or sonnet;
DA VINCI might have made a sketch,
Or REMBRANDT drawn a head to etch,
Or TURNER dashed some tints--'twould fetch
A thousand guineas.
Here might have been some notes, compiled
By IBSEN, MAETERLINCK, or WILDE,
On how some writers have beguiled
Some simple ninnies;
Some words on Cooks, by RANDOLPH C.,
Or Greek Home Rule, by Grand Old G.,
Some Irish notes by A.J.B.,
A cheque from DILLON.
How useless now to think what might
Have been, for I have blacked the white!
It is not even fit to write
A washing-bill on!
* * * * *
CHURCH AND BOOTH.--The Archbishop of CANTERBURY was recently a guest
at the Munching House on the occasion of an Undenominational Banquet.
His Grace, in a post-prandial speech, observed that the Salvation
Army came "fluting" among us, but he thought that the Army's success
would be as "fleeting" as it was "fluting." Neat this for his
Grace-after-dinner. This was a nice after-dinner way of giving
"_caviare_ to the General." No "laughter" appears to have followed,
so the _caviare_ was not generally taken.
* * * * *
LITERARY NOTE AND QUERY.--First volume of _Tacitus_ translated into
English by A.W. QUILL. Judging from a review in the _Times_ of this
instalment, it is the work of neither a soft nor hard Quill, but
a medium Quill. With such a suggestive name, this author will show
himself a Goose Quill if he does not at once turn his attention to
the History of PENN.
* * * * *
LADY GAY'S SELECTIONS.
[Illustration: (Lady Gay.)]
_The Bobolink, Henley._
DEAR MR. PUNCH,
The Election at Sheepsdoor being regarded as a "moral" for our
Candidate--(what a delightful change from the _im-moral_ way in which
elections _used_ to be conducted!)--I felt it was safe for me to
wing my flight to fresh scenes and pastures new!--not that I wanted
any "new pastures," having been a _grass_-widow for some time;--but
having had enough of the "rolling billow"--(by the way, the rolling
"_Billow_" at Stockbridge didn't roll fast enough)--I yearned for the
silvery smoothness of Father Thames, so started for Henley with my
faithful _Eulalie_--(I really must change her name, it sounds like
a Swiss joedel); but, oh! my goodness!--talk about _billows_--the
Channel passage is a fool to what we found at Henley! Waves mountain
high!--(This of course is an exaggeration, but I've read it so often
in sea-novels, that I've almost come to believe it possible--it would
be nearer the truth, as dear Mrs. RAMSBOTHAM would pronounce it, I
fancy--waves "mounting high.") I had to sit all day on the roof of the
_Bobolink_, with a lifebelt or _something_ round my waist!--and having
made me acquaintance of a sweet youth who could swim, I implored him
not to leave me!--and he didn't--the whole day long. Ah! he was _very_
nice!--I need not tell you I didn't notice the racing _much_, but I
did take an interest in _two_ of the contests; viz.--(I don't know
what "viz." means--but I _do_ know I am using it correctly)--The
Diamond Sculls, and The Ladies' Challenge. The Diamonds were
walked off, or rowed off to Holland--(great place, I'm told, for
diamonds)--by Mr. K. OOMS (who evidently "kooms" of an athletic
stock), amid the generous cheers of our defeated Englishmen! The
other--and naturally, from its title, the most important event--was
competed for by two boat-loads from Cambridge University--_Crews_,
I believe, they call them, but I always thought it was a sign of
contempt to allude to any party of people as "a crew." However
that may be, I was informed that "First Trinity had carried off the
Ladies!" (just as if they were a pack of Sabine women), and I suppose
it was true; though, in counting up the Ladies in sight, I only missed
_one_--and she, I found, had fallen into the river, and been gallantly
rescued by a spectator, who, I presume, was determined to have _his_
share, in spite of the First Trinity Men!
Back to town, after all was over on Thursday, to find everybody
wild with "election fever." A large group surrounding the "tape" at
the Club (I belong to the "Amazon," of course), and ordering lemon
squashes when a seat was lost, and whiskey and seltzer when the
reverse was the case! Oh, this Election! Thank goodness, I'm off to
Newmarket, to spend the week with Sir NEWMAN and Lady GATESHEAD, with
a distinct feeling of relief at getting back to business after this
fortnight of exciting relaxation!
Next week's racing furnishes quite a lengthy _menu_, with several
attractive _entrees_, and some good "made-up-overnight" dishes; in
fact, a programme which appeals strongly to every racy palate. I do
not propose to work my way through the entire _menu_ (not being an
Alderman), and will only hint at a few of the side-dishes, which
may be worth attention reserving my great effort for the "_plat de
resistance_" at Sandown; so, at Newmarket--try just a mouthful of July
Handicap _a la_ Duke of DEVONSHIRE's "Selected;" should it choke you,
have a pat on the "Bach" when attacking the Beaufort _Stakes_; and to
wind up with dessert, worthy of a CHESTERFIELD, take a "Meddler." If
this conglomeration of good things is not too much for you, travel
back to town in time for the great race of the week; but, _if_ upset,
don't blame,
Yours devotedly, LADY GAY.
"ECLIPSE STAKES SELECTION."
With _Gouverneur_, _Orme_, and such giants to run,
It needs the cool calm of a PLATO
To fix on the horse that will "capture the bun!"
But I think it will be "_Orvieto_."
* * * * *
OPERATIC NOTES.
[Illustration: Fancy Sketch for a Brazen Statue of a Composer notable
for his "Horns and Brass."]
_Tuesday._--_Premiere_ of _Elaine_. BEMBERG Composer, LEON-JEHIN
Conductor, and Sir DRURIOLANUS Producer. Full House, determined to
give New Opera a fair hearing, and sit it out. Don't get a new Opera
every day. Congratulations to BEMBERG in a general way. "In a first
Opera" (if this be his first), to quote the Composer of the recent
De-La-ra-Boom Buddha, who was complacently listening to the other
Composer's new Opera, "originality breeds contempt." So a little
bit here, and a little bit there, here a bit, and there a bit, and
everywhere a bit, gets rid of all superfluity in the Composer's
brain, and saves the listening critic much trouble. Then his next
Opera--Ah!--_that_ ought to be all genuinely new and original
Sparkling BEMBERG Cabinet. "_Elaine_," observed a lady critic,
"is graceful and airy"--which, in the lady's presence, the present
listener was not prepared to deny.
Contented must have been Composer BEMBERG with such a cast as was made
and provided for him by Sir DRURIOLANUS. MELBA, as the "Lily Maid of
Astolat," charming, with a charming song, "_L'Amour est pur_." The
audience was in an encoring humour, but, thank goodness, only a few
encores were taken, and the others left, otherwise none of us would
have been home till sunrise. In the swan-like dying scene the Composer
wrings our heart-strings with his harp-strings, reminding everyone
forcibly that, as _Mr. Guppy_ observed, "There _are_ chords!"
Wagnerian, sometimes, is our BEMBERG, with his horns and brass. Fine
chorus at beginning of Act II.--the Tournament Act--which shows, as
a foolish person observed, "a Rummy lot at Camelot." At end of Third
Act MELBA and JEAN DE RESZKE (who must have joined the Salvation
Army, as he was, apparently, "saving himself" all the evening) were
enthusiastically called. Engaged in curtseying her thanks, MELBA
didn't notice--as, how should she?--property steps behind her, on
which, at about her tenth curtsey, she suddenly sat down about two
seconds before she could possibly realise that there was any chance of
sitting down. But JEAN LAUNCELOT DE RESZKE was there, and rescued her!
Good Knight! JEAN DE RESCUE! Then EDWARD, as _Hermit_, own brother to
_Friar Laurence_, excellent. But so were they all, and the Opera will
well repay several re-hearings.
_Thursday._--_Aida_. Generally considered rather a heavy Opera by
VERDI. "But to-night," says WAGSTAFF, "the Verdi-ict quite t'other
way." MAUREL excellent as _Amonasro_, and MAGGIE MACINTYRE looked,
acted, and sang Maggie-nificently. Uncommonly good was GIULIA RAVOGLI
as _Amneris_, _Aida's_ rival for the love of the small-sized _Radames
Dimitresco_, or Dimi-nutive-Tresco (comparatively speaking), to whom
EDWARD DE RESZKE, being quite _a Ned_ and shoulders taller, might
spare some of his superfluous inches.
EDWARD uncommonly good as _Ramfis_, which name, considering the
peculiar make-up, might be appropriately changed to _Rum Phiz_, and
nobody be any the worse. BEVIGNANI conducted himself and the orchestra
admirably; M. PLANCON, in English Plain Song, did all well that as _Il
Re_ he had to do, looking every inch a _Re_, and not a bit _Il_. Mlle.
BAUERMEISTER was _Una Sacerdotissa_, but she would be anything and
do everything well. Signer RINALDINI was _Un Messagiero_. His costume
might have been more effective had Sir AUGUSTUS brought him up to
date as a Messenger Boy for the Telephonie-sol-fa Company. This can be
amended. House good.
_Friday_.--Covent Garden, _Elaine_ expected, but didn't appear. JOHN
THE RISKY, the _Launcelot_ of the Opera, unwell. "Not _Launcelot_,
but another!" cried Sir DRURIOLANUS, only there wasn't another. So
_Carmen_ was played. "Not this _Elaine_," continued Sir AUGUSTUS, "but
Drur-e-lane." So away! to hear the Trumpeter of the German Band. This
_Trompeter_ might be played as a trump in a small house, but 'tis
trumpery for Drury Lane. One phrase of an old music-hall ditty, the
words of which were, "She walked forward, _I_ followed on, tra la
la!" constantly recur. Who originated it? Unwonted excitement of
going to two Operas told on shattered frame, so staggered to Maiden
Lane, which, on account of its being the home for oysters, crabs,
and lobsters, should be renamed Mer-maiden Lane. Behold! good Dr.
BAYLIS "within the Rules" making up his evening prescriptions.
"_Quis supperabit?_" asked the learned Dr. B. "_Ego_," replied I,
like JEAMES, knowing the language. And "supper-a-bit" it was. "'84
_wachterum unum pintum frigidum sumendum cum_ '92 _chickeno_," &c. "My
benizon on thee!" said CRITICUS REDIVIVUS. "Dr. BAYLIS, I bay-_liss_
thee!" with the accent on the "_liss_." So home. After all the chops
and changes of this operatic life, I am with "chicken and champagne"
content. _Finis coronat opus._
* * * * *
MORE CONTRIBUTIONS TO THE ALCOHOLIC QUESTION.
(_A FEW REMARKS ON DR. ROBSON ROOSE'S ARTICLE IN NEW REVIEW._)
[Illustration: "'Neat' Handed Phyllis."
"A contribution to the Alcohol Question."]
1. Inebriates should be shut up in Alcoholloway Prison.
2. "_Food-accessory_" is a very pretty name for drink. Henceforth let
the butler go round as "the merry toast goes round." Let butlers and
footmen, in dining-rooms and places where they have various liquors,
be instructed to inquire of each and every guest "What food-accessory
will you take, Sir?"
3. "_The use of Alcohol dates from very early times._" But it is not
recommended by the faculty as a good thing to be taken at 7 A.M., or
at any time in the morning immediately on awaking.
As to when any one has had enough "alcohol," the old test first
put forward many years ago by _Mr. Punch_, still holds good. If
you can say "British Constitution" distinctly, and without effort,
so that it shall not be all in one composite word sounding like
"Bri'sh-conshushun," then, perhaps, you may go up-stairs (if you can)
and join the ladies.
4. "_The liver is very prone to become affected._" The question is,
first, Is "an evil liver" or "a good liver" here intended? But, apart
from this, any affectation in a liver, good or bad, is objectionable.
It must be taken for granted, in a serious discussion on the subject,
that "a slave to his liver" is a synonym for "a livery servant." The
one objection to a livery servant lies in this very fact; for a slave
to liver is rarely in a good humour, and is generally sulky, lazy, and
disobliging.
5. "_Wine comes in, rubs off the acerbities, and brings all down to
the same level of good humour._" The end of such a happy party is, of
course, all under the table, smiling, but speechless.
Smiling, but beautiful they lay,
A gleam was in their half-closed eye,
But still they murmured with a sigh,
Hic-shelsher-wa'.
Dr. ROBERTS, as quoted by his _confrere_, ROBSON ROOSETEM PASHA,
appears to be a very sensible person. Dr. ROBERTS--he is not Dr.
ARTHUR ROBERTS, we believe--recommends the liqueur to be judiciously
taken at meal-times. And, by the way, as the knowledge of when to
cry, "Hold, enough!" is most useful, here is another test of sobriety
in this very word "judicious," which some, after a couple of glasses
(or more) of fine old cognac, will pronounce as though 'twere spelt
"seducious," and some will swear it ought to be "jusidious." When
nobody can pronounce "judicious" correctly, the _arbiter bibendi_,
if himself absolutely sober as a judge ought to be,--a man quite
"above-board," i.e., not yet under it,--such a one may pronounce that
the guests have had quite enough. It is a pity that so excellent
a writer on temperance should have the singular disadvantage of a
plural name. If, after dinner, a worthy convivialist observed, "I see
ROBERTS," would not the question naturally be, "How many of 'em?"
The Doctor can omit the "s," and, as perhaps he is already a little
singular in his carefully-advanced theories, why should he not
de-pluralise his surname? Do the Doctors R.R. and R. differ on this?
Then we must decide. In the meantime, to show our approval of this
particular article of Dr. ROBSON ROOSTEM PASHA's faith, we, as a
jovial company, drink his health, and then depart for our annual
Alcoholiday trip.