Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 103, July 9, 1892 by Various
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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI
VOL. 103
JULY 9, 1892
[Illustration: (Vol. CIII)]
* * * * *
SIMPLE AS A "B" "C."
DEAR EX-CHANCELLOR WITH A PAST,--I am sorry to have to address you,
especially as to you I owe my promotion. But matters are coming to a
crisis, and the Fatherland is suffering from your indiscretions. You
are making a great mistake--you are, indeed.
Now, I ask you, what would you do under the following circumstances?
Supposing you were in my position, what would you do if your
predecessor held you up to ridicule, spoilt all your favourite
diplomatic plans, insulted your employer, and made himself generally
disagreeable all round? You must know, my good Prince, that you are
sowing dissension in every direction. You are embroiling us with
Russia, and running the chance of a war with France. Moreover, you
are breaking the very laws you made for the solitary purpose of
meeting the case you have raised yourself! So now, with every kindly
recollection of the past, tell me why I don't arrest you, why I don't
put you into prison, why I don't break your power once and for ever?
Yours truly,
VON C----.
_REPLY TO THE ABOVE._
DEAR CHANCELLOR WITHOUT A FUTURE,--I will answer you why you do not
arrest me? The simple reason is that you, my dear friend, are not
BISMARCK.
And I am, yours truly,
VON B----.
* * * * *
A CORRESPONDENT signing himself "ONE WHO LIVES AND LEARNS," wishes to
know what is the meaning of the expression, "The Minute Gun at Sea?"
We will tell him. "A Minute Gun" is, of course, a very small one. When
it goes wrong, it is "at sea." No extra charge for this gun.
* * * * *
MEM.--You can't expect much from the Speakers at a Convention, where
the Speeches must be Conventional.
* * * * *
"HARPY THOUGHT!"--Mr. JOHN THOMAS's Grand Harp Concert.
* * * * *
A WILDE IDEA.
OR, MORE INJUSTICE TO IRELAND!
[Illustration]
The licence for the production of his French Play of _Salome_,
accepted by SARAH B., having been refused by the Saxon Licenser of
Plays, The O'SCAR, dreams of becoming a French Citizen, but doesn't
quite "see himself," at the beginning of his career, as a conscript in
the French Army, and so, to adapt the Gilbertian lines, probably--
"In spite of great temptation
To French na-tu-ra-li-sa-tion,
He'll remain an Irishman!"
* * * * *
MY PUGGY!
[A Correspondent writes to the _Standard_ in praise of pugs,
as the most useful household dogs to prevent burglaries.]
Who bears, despite a wrinkled skin,
A heart that's soft and warm within,
And hates a visitor like sin?--
My puggy!
Who has a little temper of
His own, and sports a winter cough,
And thinks himself a mighty toff?--
My puggy!
Whose voice, disturbing midnight rest,
Do wily house-breakers detest,
And move to some less guarded nest?--
My puggy's!
Who does not, like a stupid cat,
'Gainst burglars' boots rub himself flat,--
Soliciting a felon's pat?--
My puggy!
And when the burglar's body's half
Inside the sash, with doggish laugh,
Who masticates his nearest calf?--
My puggy!
Who owns a phiz (which _I_ could hug),
That's called by stupid boys an ug-
ly sulky unattractive "mug?"--
My puggy!
* * * * *
Our old friend, Mrs. RAMSBOTHAM, has been sightseeing in the country.
Being asked whether she had seen the Midgetts, she said, "Don't
mention 'em, my dear! I've seen 'em, and felt 'em--thousands of
'em--they very nearly closed my eyes up."
* * * * *
[Illustration: THROUGH EVER-GREEN GLASSES.
["On the side of those poor men who constitute the Irish
nation, with their few and disparaged leaders, we have found
a consideration, a calmness, and a liberality of view, a
disposition to interpret everything in the best sense, and
to make every concession that could possibly bring harmony
about."--_Mr. Gladstone in Edinburgh._]
AIR--"_The Wearing of the Green_."
_Ever-Green Statesman sings_:--
Och, Erin dear, and did ye hear the cry that's going round?
The Home-Rule plant they would forbid to grow on Irish ground.
_I_ had my doubts at one time, but more clearly I have seen
Since I took--in shamrock spectacles--to Wearing of the Green.
_Chorus._
I'm Ever-Green myself, ye know, so take me by the hand,
And tell me how Ould Oireland is, and how our chances stand.
'Tis the most disthressful country, dear, that ever yet was seen;
But I'm sworn to right ye, darlint, now I'm Wearing of the Green!
With unsurpassed frivolity and cruelty, 'tis said,
That you, Mavourneen, wish to set your heel on Ulster's head.
If _you_, who under Orange foot so long time have been trod,
Would trample down your tyrants old, it would be passing odd.
_Chorus._--I'm Ever-Green myself, ye know, &c.
When the law can stop your friends, my dear, from growing as they
grow,
When the Tories stop my "flowing tide" from flowing as 'twill flow,
Then I will change the colour, dear, that in my specs is seen,
But until that day, please Heaven, I'll stick to Wearing of the
Green.
_Chorus._
I am Ever-Green myself as is your own dear Emerald Land,
And that is why the Green Isle's case I've learned to understand.
'Tis the most disthressful country, yours, that ever yet was seen;
But _I'll_ right ye. Twig my glasses, dear! I'm Wearing of the
Green!]
* * * * *
THE LAST TRAIN.
It will fade from mortal vision,
So the fashion-plates ordain;
Worthy subject of derision,
Not the mail, but female, train!
It has goaded men to mutter
Words unhappily profane,
Trailed in ball-room or in gutter,
Whether cheap or first-class train.
Far and wide, on floor and paving,
Spread the dress to catch the swain;
Sometimes long--in distance waving;
Sometimes wide--a "broad-gauge train."
It has dragged a long existence
Through the dust, the mud, the rain,
Great is feminine persistence,
She would never lose the train.
Booby-traps were beaten hollow,
Hapless man stepped back in vain,
Knowing what a trip would follow
If he only caught the train!
Oh, the anguish that it gave us,
Quite unnecessary pain!
WORTH, not WESTINGHOUSE, will save us,
And at last will stop the train!
* * * * *
MRS. R., hearing her Nephew say that he had been discussing some
"Two-year-old Stakes" with a friend, observed that she was afraid they
must have been dreadfully tough, adding, after consideration, "Perhaps
they were frozen meat."
* * * * *
[Illustration: AN EXCITING TIME.
POOR JONES IS CONVINCED THAT HIS WORST FEARS ARE AT LAST REALISED, AND
HE _IS_ LEFT ALONE WITH A _DANGEROUS LUNATIC_!! (IT WAS ONLY LITTLE
WOBBLES RUNNING ANXIOUSLY OVER THE POINTS OF HIS COMING SPEECH TO THE
ELECTORS OF PLUMPWELL-ON-TYME!!)]
* * * * *
THE CANDIDATE'S COMPLETE LETTER-WRITER.
(_In Answer to a Sweep asking for a F.O. Clerkship._)
MY DEAR MR. ----,
Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to secure for your
interesting son a Clerkship in the Foreign Office. The fact that he
has a distaste for the profession to which you belong would be no
disqualification. I agree with you that chimney-sweeping is better
than diplomacy. However, if he won't help you it can't be helped. I
am exceptionally busy just now, but please repeat the purport of your
letter after the Election. Who knows I may not be in a better position
then than now to assist you,
Yours sincerely,
SOPHT SAWDER.
(_In Answer to a Letter about meeting a Duchess._)
MY DEAR MADAM,
Yes, I have the honour of the Duchess's acquaintance. As you say, Her
Grace's "at homes" are charming, but of course they are not equal
to her dinners. I shall be only too pleased if I can bring about a
meeting with the Duchess.
I am exceptionally busy just now, but please repeat the purport of
your letter after the Election. Who knows I may not be in a better
position then than now to assist you.
Yours sincerely,
SOPHT SAWDER.
(_In Answer to all Letters generally._)
MY DEAR ----,
Of course I shall be only too delighted to help you in any way in
my power. You may always command me--only too pleased, only too
overjoyed. But the fact is, I am just now exceptionally busy. Please
repeat the purport of your letter after the Election. Who knows I may
not be in a better position then than now to assist you.
Yours sincerely,
SOPHT SAWDER.
(_Common Form Reply to Answers to the above._)
MR. SOPHT SAWDER, M.P., presents his compliments to ----, and begs to
say that he has no recollection of having promised anything. Mr. S.S.
regrets to say that he has no time for an interview.
* * * * *
PRICKLE-ME-UPS.
SIR,--I am delighted to observe that some Constant Contributors (to
other papers, not yours, Sir) are making dietetic experiments on
Nettles. Perhaps you would allow me to mention that Groundsel Salad
is a delicious dish, when you get used to it, and that a _Puree_ of
Chickweed rarely fails to create delighted astonishment at a crowded
dinner-table. Bramble Pie is another excellent recipe straight from
Dame Nature's Cookery Book. With great care, it is possible to cook
Thistles in such a way as to make them taste just like Artichokes. My
family often has these and similar delicacies at their mid-day meal,
when I am away in the City.
Yours truly,
LOVER OF ECONOMY.
SIR,--I saw that letter about eating Nettles. Of course it's all rot
(it you will excuse the expression), but I thought it would be fun to
try the nettle diet on my Uncle JAMES, who never gives me a tip when
I go to visit him, although my Mother says he's as rich as Creesers,
though I don't know who they are. So I got one or two good stinging
ones (I knew they were stingers, because I tried them on Cook first)
and cut off little bits and put them in Uncle JAMES's sandwiches,
which he always has for lunch. It was awful larks to watch him eat
them. I thought he'd have a fit. Then I said good-bye, and I haven't
been near him since. But I got Cook to take him in a dock-leaf from
me, and I hope he ate it after the sandwiches. I thought it might
do him good. I'm going to try nettle sandwiches on a boy I know at
school, who's a beast. I expect it will give him nettle-rash. No more
now from
Yours respectfully,
TOMMY.
SIR,--I frequently recommend patients suffering from advanced atrophy
to try Nettle Broth. I must say that I am myself nettled, when they
reply that they prefer the advanced atrophy. A good counter-irritant
in cases of blood-poisoning is a stout holly leaf, _eaten raw_. In
serious cases of collapse, if a patient can be got to consume a cactus
or a prickly pear, the stimulative effect is really surprising. In
the absence of these products of the vegetable kingdom, a hedge-stake,
taken directly after a meal, will do equally well.
Yours professionally,
SOLUBLE SALT, F.R.C.P.
* * * * *
AT THE WILD WEST.
(_A SKETCH AT EARL'S COURT._)
_The Orator's Opening Discourse_ (_as heard in the back rows_). Ladies
and Gentlemen, I desire to draw your attention to an important fact.
It will be my pleasure to introduce to you ... ("_The real American
popcorn, equally famous in Paris and London, tuppence each packet!"
from Vendor in gangway_) ... history and life of the ... (_"'Buffalo
Bill Puzzle,' one penny!" from another vendor behind_) ... impress
one fact upon your minds; this is not ... (_roar and rattle of
passing train_) ... in the ordinary or common acceptation of ...
(_"Puff-puff-puff!" from engine shunting trucks_) ... Many unthinking
persons have said ... (_Piercing and prolonged scream from same
engine._) This is not so. On the contrary ... (_Metallic bangs from
trucks._) Men and animals are ... ("_Programmes! Opera-glasses on
hire!_") ... purely the creatures of ...
[_Remainder of remarks hopelessly lost amidst the clank of
coupling chains, whistles, snorts and puffs from shunting
engine._
_An Old Lady in Audience._ He has such a beautiful clear voice,
we _ought_ to hear every word. If _I_ were Buffalo BILL, I should
positively insist on the trains keeping quiet while the Orator was
speaking!
_Orator_ (_during the Grand Processional Review_). A Troop of Arapahoe
Indians!
[_Band strikes up; a party of painted Indians gallop into
Arena, uttering little puppy-like barks._
_An Artistic Lady_ (_shuddering_). Look at that creature with a
raw pink body, and a pea-green face--it's too _frightful_, and such
_crude_ yellows! I _wish_ they could be taught to paint themselves
some _decent_ colour!
_Her Sister._ Really, dear, as far as _decency_ is concerned, I don't
exactly see what difference the mere _colour_ would make.
_Her Husband._ That isn't quite what EMILY meant. She'd like to
enamel 'em all in Art shades and drape Liberty scarves round 'em, like
terra-cotta drainpipes or wicker-chairs--eh, EMILY?
_Emily_ (_loftily_). Oh, my dear HENRY, I wasn't speaking to _you_. I
know what a contempt you have for all that makes a home beautiful!
_Henry._ Meaning Indians? My love, I respect them and admire them--at
a distance; but, plain _or_ coloured, I cannot admit that they would
be decorative as furniture--even in _your_ drawing-room!
[_EMILY endures him in silence._
_Orator._ A party of Women of the Ogallalla Tribe!
[Illustration: "I am perfectly aware of _that_, Euphemia!"]
[_Three mounted Indian ladies in blankets--walk their horses
slowly round the Arena, crooning "Aye-eia-ha-ya-hee-hi-ya!"
with every sign of enjoying their own performance._
_A Poetical Lady._ What strange wild singing it is, JOHN! There's
something so creepy about it, somehow.
_John_ (_a prosaic but frivolous person_). There is, indeed. It
explains _one_ thing I never quite understood before, though.
_The Poetical Lady._ I thought it would impress you--but what does it
explain?
_John._ The reason why the buffalo in those parts has so entirely died
out.
_A Rigid Matron_ (_during the Emigrant Train Scene_). I don't care
to see a girl ride in that bold way myself. I'm sure it _must_ be so
unsexing for them. And what _is_ she about now, with that man? They're
actually having a duel with knives--on _horseback_ too! not at _all_ a
nice thing for any young girl to do. There! she's pulled out a pistol
and shot him--and galloped off as if nothing had happened! I have
always heard that American girls were allowed a good _deal_ of
liberty--but I'd really no idea they went as far as this! I should
be sorry indeed to see any girl of _mine_ (_here the glances
instructively at three dumpy and dough-faced Daughters_) acting in
that forward and _most_ unfeminine manner. (_Reassuringly._) But I'm
very sure there's no fear of _that_, is there, dears?
[_The Daughters repudiate with gratifying unanimity any desire
to shoot gentlemen on horseback._
_A Bloodthirsty Boy_ (_as the hostile Indians attack the train_). Will
the Indians _scalp_ anybody, Uncle?
_His Uncle._ No, my boy, they don't let 'em get near enough for that,
you see! [_The Indians are ignominiously chased off by Cowboys._
_The Boy_ (_disappointed_). They'd a splendid chance of scalping the
Orator that time--and not one of them even saw it!
_Orator._ Captain JACK BURTZ, of the United States Army, will now give
you an example of his phenomenal Lightning Drill.
[_The Captain takes up his position with an air of fierce
resolution, and proceeds to do wonderful things with a
rifle and fixed bayonet, which he treats with a familiarity
bordering on contempt._
_A Lady_ (_to a_ Military Friend--_as the Captain twirls the rifle
rapidly round his neck_). Have you ever seen anyone drill like that
before?
_The Mil. F._ Saw CINQUEVALLI do something very like it at the Empire.
But _he_ had a cannon-ball as well.
_The Lady._ Look at him now--he's making the gun revolve upside down
with the bayonet on the palm of his hand! Could _you_ do that?
_The M.F._ Not without drilling a hole in myself.
_The Lady._ It really is wonderful that he shouldn't feel the point,
isn't it now?
_The M.F._ Well, I don't see much point _in_ it myself--but so long as
it amuses him, I daresay it's all right.
[_The Captain discharges the gun in the air and retires at the
double, feeling that his country's safety is secure for the
present. JOHNNY BAKER, the young American Marksman, appears
and exhibits his skill in shooting upside down._
_The Rigid Matron._ He missed one that time--he's not quite such a
good shot as the girl was.
_One of the Daughters._ Oh, but, Mother, you forget! Miss ANNIE OAKLEY
didn't stand on _her_--
_The R.M._ (_in an awful voice_), I am perfectly aware of that,
EUPHEMIA; so pray don't make such unnecessary remarks!
[_EUPHEMIA subsides in confusion._
_An Unsophisticated Spectator_ (_as Master BAKER, after rubbing
his forehead, discovers a brickbat under the mat where his head had
been_). Now, how _very_ odd! He found a brick in exactly the same
place when I was here before! Someone must have a grudge against him,
poor boy! But he ought to look _before_ he stands on his head, next
time!
_Mr. Timmerman_ (_carelessly, to his wife, as the Deadwood Coach is
introduced_). It would be rather fun to have a ride in the Coach--new
experience and all that.
_Mrs. T._ (_who doesn't intend him to go_). Oh, do be _careful_ then.
_Mr. T._ (_feeling quite the Daredevil_). Pooh, my dear, what is there
to be careful about?
_Mrs. T._ It does look such a ramshackle old thing--it might break
down. Accidents do happen so quickly.
_Mr. T._ (_reflecting that they certainly do_). Oh, if it wasn't
perfectly safe, they wouldn't--
_Mrs. T._ Well, promise me if you go on the box to hold on tight round
the corners, then!
_Mr. T._ (_who doesn't see much to hold on by_). I shan't _go_ on the
box--I shall go inside.
_Mrs. T._ There mayn't be room. There are several people waiting to
go already. You'll have to make haste to get a seat at all. I shall be
_miserable_ till I see you safe back again!
_Mr. T._ (_who is not sure he doesn't share her feelings_). Oh well,
if you feel like _that_ about it, I won't--
_Mrs. T._ Oh, yes, do, I _want_ you to go--it will be so exciting for
you to see real Indians yelling and shooting all round.
_Mr. T._ (_thinking that it may be more exciting than pleasant_).
Might bring on one of my headaches, and there'll be such a smell of
gunpowder too. I hardly think, after all, it's worth while.
_Mrs. T._ If you feel in the least _nervous_ about it. (_Mr. T. denies
this indignantly._) Then go at once--you may never have the chance
again; only don't stay talking about it--go!
_Mr. T._ (_pulling himself together_). Very well, if you really wish
it.... Confound it! _Most_ annoying, really! (_Sits down relieved._)
They've started! It's all _your_ fault, if you hadn't kept me here
talking!
_Mrs. T._ (_humbly_). I _am_ so sorry--but there's another performance
in the evening; we might dine here, and then you could easily go on
the Coach afterwards if you're so anxious to!
_Mr. T._ And sit through the show twice in one day? No, good as it is,
I really--and I've some letters I must write after dinner, too.
[_Mrs. T. smiles to herself discreetly, satisfied with having
gained her point._
* * * * *
UNOPPOSED ELECTION.
On Saturday last, being the first day permissible under the statute,
the nomination of a Knight to serve in Parliament for the Shire of
Barks, was held in the county town. The proceedings were marked by
a pleasing unanimity, and an outburst of popular enthusiasm which
seriously tried the resources of the local police. There was only one
candidate--TOBY once more M.P. The nomination paper was signed by _Mr.
Punch_, Mr. GLADSTONE, Lord SALISBURY, and most of the Crowned Heads
of Europe.
The Sheriff inquired if it were desired to nominate any other
Gentleman. (_A Voice_--"_I should think not!_") There being no other
response, the Sheriff declared the Hon. Gentleman duly elected, and
said he would like to be permitted to forego his fees, if indeed any
were due.
[Illustration]
In response to loud calls from the assembled crowd, _Mr. Punch_
said he had great pleasure in recommending his young friend to the
suffrages of this important constituency. (_Cheers._) He called him
young, for though he had been on his (_Mr. Punch's_) establishment for
over fifty years, he was very little altered. There were some people
who never grew old (_A Voice_--"_Bully for you, Mr. Punch!_") and
amongst them he might include his faithful follower, whom they had
just unanimously re-elected Member for Barks. He trusted that in the
future, his young friend would pursue the course honourably followed
by him in the past. ("_Hear! Hear!_") This was the fourth Parliament
to which he had been elected, and he trusted it would not be the
last. (_Cheers._) He might perhaps allude to a rumour current in
the ordinary channels of information, which seemed to point to their
friend's transference to another place. He had the authority of TOBY,
M.P., to say that, as far as his freedom of action is concerned--and
_Mr. Punch_ thanked Heaven this is still free England--(_loud
cheers_)--that prognostication would never be realised. The highest
honour ever done to his friend, was the selection of him by the men of
Barks to represent them in the Commons House of Parliament. (_Renewed
cheering._) His fullest pleasure was to retain their confidence and
to serve them and posterity to the utmost extent of his power and
opportunity. (_Disturbance at the rear of the hall; cries of "Put him
out!" "Sit on 'is 'ead!"_) _Mr. Punch_ begged they would do no such
thing. It would be sure to give way under pressure. (_Laughter._) In
conclusion, he begged to thank them for the honour they had done his
friend, and he might add, themselves.
There were loud cries for TOBY, M.P., but the Hon. Member begged to
be excused from making a speech on this occasion. For one reason he
shrank from coming into competition in the lists of platform-speaking
with his revered friend and Leader. Another thing was, he was really
so overcome by the honour just done him, that he could not trust
himself to speak. He would write--as soon as the new Parliament met.
After the customary votes of thanks had been carried by acclamation,
the new Member was hoisted shoulder-high by the enthusiastic mob, and
carried off to his country residence, The Kennel, Barks, where he will
remain during the Recess.
* * * * *
[Illustration: THE IMPORTANCE OF EXTERNALS.
"BUT WHY DON'T YOU SEND FOR DR. MASHER, AUNT JANE? HE'S THE CLEVEREST
DOCTOR IN THE WHOLE COUNTY!"
"OH, MY DEAR, I COULDN'T! HE _DRESSES_ SO IRRELIGIOUSLY!"]
* * * * *
VOTES AND THE MAN!
"One Man, one Vote!" A fine, fair-sounding plan!
Would we could also get "One Vote, one _Man_!"
Then we might also reach, "One Vote, one value."
But, England, you have never found, nor shall you,
Alas! (despite the democracy's promoter)
That real manhood always marks the voter;
Or fearing neither knave's device, nor "rough" rage,
We'd trust the State to a _true_ Manhood Suffrage!
* * * * *
FROM TAPLOW.
_First 'Arry._ I'll tell you a good name for a Riverside Inn--"_The
'Av-a-launch_."
_Second 'Arry._ I'll tell you a better--"The 'Ave-a-lunch." Come
along!
* * * * *
[Illustration: WHITE LIES.
_Frisky Spinster._ "HOW MANY DANCES ARE YOU GOING TO GIVE ME TO-NIGHT,
CAPTAIN WAXHAM?"
_Captain Waxham._ "OH, I'M SO SORRY, BUT THERE'S NOT ENOUGH MEN, YOU
KNOW, AND I'VE JUST BEEN TOLD OFF BY MRS. MASHAM TO DANCE WITH THE
GIRLS WHO--A--WHO ARE NOT LIKELY TO GET PARTNERS!"
[_Asks the Girl just behind him for three Waltzes and a Polka!_]
* * * * *
"CLOSED FOR ALTERATIONS AND REPAIRS."
(_A SONG OF THE THEATRE ROYAL, ST. STEPHEN'S._)
AIR--"_Killaloe._"
Closed! The long wild whillaloo
That oft smacked of "Killaloe,"
The contagious wrath of Buskin and of Sock
Hath abated for awhile,
And no more the Emerald Isle
On the stage and in the green-room seems to shock.
The curtain is rung down,
The comedian and the clown,
With the sombre putter-on of tragic airs,
Are gone, with all the cast,
And the Theatre, at last,
Is "Closed for Alterations and Repairs."