Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 103, October 1, 1892 by Various
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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI
VOL. 103
OCTOBER 1, 1892
"STUMPED!"
(_A WOULD-BE LAUDATORY ODE. BY JINGLE JUNIOR._)
[The young Indian Gentleman, Mr. H. RANJITSINHJI, has "secured
his century" at Cricket no less than eleven times this
season.]
O H.S. RANJIT--(spelling a wild venture is!)
Wielder of willow, runner-up of "centuries"!
What's in a name? A name like RANJITSIN--
(_Can't_ finish it, was foolish to begin!)
How many miles was it you ran, O RAN--
(Bowled out again. Am sorry I began!)
In running out those hundreds, RANJITSINGHJ--
(A man were a patched fool, a perfect ninny,
Who'd try to spell that name, Ask _Bully Bottom!_)
With such a name to carry, how you got 'em,
O RANJ--(that sounds like Orange!)--those same "notches"
Is quite a wonder. Were they "bowls" or "cotches"
That got you out at last, those times eleven?
(Where is GRACE now? He has not scored _one_ even,
This season, though as close as ninety-nine to it.)
Applause has greeted you; let me add mine to it,
O RAN-JIT-SIN-HJI! (Those last three letters
What _do_ they spell?) Orthography's cold fetters
Shan't chill my admiration, smart young Hindoo!
Say, did you smite a sixer through a window,
Like Slogger THORNTON in _his_ boyish prime,
O RANJITSINHJI? Got it this time!
That is, it _spelt_ all right. E'en admiration
Shan't tempt me to attempt _pronunciation_!
Eleven centuries we to Indian skill owe!
Will the East lick the West at its own "Willow?"
Here's luck to India and young RAN--Och, murther!
RAN-JIT-SIN-SIN--How's that! _Out_? Can't get further!
* * * * *
"OH NO, WE NEVER MENTION IT."--The KENDALS have got a Play by a young
American Author with the very uncompromising name of DAM. He, or his
Play, may be Dam good, or just the reverse: still, if he does turn out
to be the "big, big D," then all the Dam family, such as Amsterdam,
Rotterdam, Schiedam, and so forth, will be real proud of him. Future
Dams will revere him as their worthy ancestral sire, and American
Dam may become naturalised among us (we have a lot of English ones
quite a _specialite_ in that line, so the French say), and become
Dam-nationalised. What fame if the piece is successful, and DAM is
on every tongue! So will it be too, if unsuccessful. Englishmen will
welcome the new American playright with the name unmentionable to
ears polite, and will recognise in him, as _the_ Dam _par excellence_,
their brother, as one of the uncommon descendants of A-DAM. By the
way, the appropriate night for its production would be Christmas
Eve. Fancy the cries all over the House, calling for the successful
Author!!
* * * * *
[Illustration: IMMUNITIES OF THE SEA-SIDE.
"COME UNDER THE UMBRELLA, JACK, IT'S BEGUN TO RAIN, AND YOU'LL CATCH
COLD, AND MAMMA'LL BE VEXED!"
"POOH! AS IF SALT WATER EVER GAVE ONE COLD!"]
* * * * *
"PUNSCH"
(_IN THE READING-ROOM OF THE BERNERHOF._)
Although thy name is wrongly spelt
Upon thy case, what joy I felt
To find a place where thou hast dwelt,
My Punsch!
Yet wit and wisdom, even thine,
Can't wake up Berne, where folks supine
All go to bed at half-past nine,
My Punsch!
What art or jokes could entertain,
Such sleepy people? True, they feign
It's later, for they say "_halb zehn_,"
My Punsch!
My German "_Punsch_," what gender thine?
They who accept, likewise decline,
"_Das Weib_" might feminine assign--
Die Punsch!
No matter which, if I behold
Thy pages, worth their weight in gold--
It's true they're more than three weeks old,
My Punsch!
* * * * *
AN ODD FELLOW OUT.--The Church-breaking thief (_vide_ the _Standard's_
provincial news) who was arrested at Oswestry (fitting that a
Church-thief should have been arrested by Os-Westry-men--which sounds
like a body of mounted ecclesiastical police), explained that he was
a "monumental mason of Dublin." Perhaps the Jury will find him
monu-mentally deranged.
* * * * *
HEALTH AND HOPPINESS.
[It is reported that the latest move is for ladies to combine
profit and pleasure by going "hopping."]
Fair Woman longs for novelty,
Her daily task is apt to cloy her,
The pastimes that were wont to be
Diverting now do but annoy her.
The common joys of life are spent
So tired of tennis, shooting, shopping,
She turns in her despair to Kent,
And tries her 'prentice hand at hopping.
Now girls whom you would scarce believe
Would not turn up their nose at soiling
Their dainty hands, to dewy eve
From early morn keep ever toiling.
There's ETHEL of the golden hair
Who flutters through existence gaily
(Her father is a millionnaire),
Hops hard and does her twelve hours daily.
Then pretty MAUD, with laughing eyes,
Who hardly knew what daily wage meant,
To everybody's great surprise
Proceeds to cut this, that engagement.
Amid the vines she daily goes,
And picks till weary fingers tingle,
The sweetest music now she knows
Is hearing hard-earned sovereigns jingle.
This latest move, it's very true,
Appears to be a rather rum thing,
But yet for idle hands to do
We know that Someone will find something.
Will fashionable hopping last?
Well, this it's safe to lay your cash on,
Before another year has passed
There'll be another female fashion.
* * * * *
VIVE LA RAIN DU BALLET A L'ALHAMBRA!--"Certainly," says MR. JOHN
HOLLINGSHEAD, "Ve've la rain. It comes pouring down on the stage, and
the people come pouring in to see it. I suppose," says he, "they'll
now call me 'The Wetter'un?" The ballet is very effective, not a drop
too much, and "not a drop in the business" in front of the house,
though there is, as is evident, on the stage. If Manager JOHN liked
to quote SHAKSPEARE with a difference, in his advertisements, he might
say, "With a hey, ho, the Wind and the Rain! For the Rain it raineth
every night!" For some time to come this show will be the raining
favourite at the Alhambra. By the way, the _Sheffield Telegraph_,
describing the alterations and improvements in front at the Alhambra,
wrote--"The ceiling has been bevelled with porous plasters so as to
hide the girders." We know that hand:--it's Our "Mrs. RAMSBOTHAM,"
and she "comes from Sheffield." However, "porous plasters" would be
another attraction at the Alhambra, or anywhere, as they certainly
ought to _draw_.
* * * * *
LADY GAY'S SELECTIONS.
_Mount Street, Grosvenor Square_.
DEAR MR. PUNCH,
Unlucky Leicester was even more unlucky than usual--and when the big
race was run last Wednesday, so thick was the rain, that the horses
could only be seen for the last half mile! Of course this made all
the difference to the horse I selected--_Windgall_--who finished
second;--as he only gives his _best_ performances _in public_, and
as he doubtless _knew he couldn't be seen_, he thought it was only a
private trial until he got close home, when his gallant effort was too
late to be of any use!--at least, this is how _I_ read the result of
the race, and who can know more about a horse than the racing-prophet,
I should like to know?
I was told by Sir WALTER GREENINGTON, that the public "tumbled over
each other" to back _Breach_, but I must say I didn't notice anything
of the sort, and it was not the kind of day anyone would choose for
a roll on the turf, the state of which was detrimental to any kind of
_Breach_!--The believers in "coincidences"--(of which I need hardly
say _I_ am one--a coincidence being a truly feminine reason for
backing a horse)--had no option but to back the winner, _Rusticus_;
as he drew the same berth he occupied in last year's race, which he
alsop--(I mean also)--won for Mr. HAMAR BASS!--_Stuart_ was a great
eleventh hour tip--(why _eleventh_ hour I wonder?--more than any
other--and who fixes the precise moment when the _eleventh_ hour
commences?)--but history tells us the STUARTS were mostly unreliable;
and though I am told he ran a "great horse"--I thought him rather on
the small side myself!
I hear that Mr. LEONARD BOYNE has received a "licence to ride" from
the Jockey Club, and that his ambition is to ride the winner of the
"Grand National"--to which end he has started "schooling" a well-known
chaser over the private training-ground in Drury Lane, belonging to
Sir AUGUSTUS HARRIS--if he hopes to escape observation by training
at night, I fear his design will be frustrated, as, on the evening, I
went to witness this "new departure" in training, I found most of the
London racing-touts present, with the inevitable field-glasses!
Next week sees us once more at our beloved Newmarket First
October--(this is a Jockey-Club joke, as the meeting _always_ takes
place in _September_! But what does a little paradox of this kind
matter to such an _August_ body!)--and I shall append my selection
for the most important race of Wednesday, but I also wish to give a
hint to the "Worldly Wise" not to miss the October Handicap, or the
match, for which _Buccaneer_ will be favourite at the "fall of the
flag!"--(The flag may _fall_, but such a _Buccaneer_ as this is will
never "strike his flag" I feel sure!) Being absolutely overloaded
with prophecy, I must also have a word to say on the Rutland
Plate, which aristocratically-named race could only be won by the
aristocratically-named _Buckingham_!--Yours devotedly, LADY GAY.
GREAT-EASTERN RAILWAY HANDICAP SELECTION:--
Though good his chance to win the prize,
"Lord HENRY" soon detected,
That greatest danger would arise,
From Colonel NORTH's "_Selected._"
* * * * *
[Illustration: "THE PERI AT THE ACADEMY GATES."
"On July 4th, Lieutenant PEARY, in his great sledge journey, commenced
on May 15th last, in Greenland, came on a glacier which he named The
Academy Glacier."--_Times_.]
* * * * *
SWORD AND PEN.
A FABLE.
(_TRANSLATED FROM THE RUSSO-FRENCH._)
Pen was a busy personage. He was flying from place to place, and
had much importance. He was pompous and mysterious, and puzzled many
people. Pen was accompanied by a sheet of paper that he called Treaty.
Pen took Treaty everywhere. To Russia, to France, to Rome, and to
Turkey. No one knew exactly what Treaty was like. Pen said he was
satisfied with Treaty, and as Pen and Treaty were such constant
companions, Pen's word on the subject was accepted as authentic.
But one fine day there was a breeze, and Treaty was blown away by the
wind.
"Can I not assist?" asked Pen. "Things seem to have gone wrong."
"No, thanks," replied Sword, grimly; "when it comes to close quarters,
we find ink not quite so useful as gunpowder!"
* * * * *
SUGGESTION FOR AN OUTSIDE ADVERTISEMENT TO BE DISPLAYED AT THE DOOR OF
THE STRAND THEATER.--"_Niobe_ all tiers" (full).
* * * * *
BRIEF INTERVIEW.
"And," asked our deferential Interviewer, "what did your Lordship
reply to the deputation about Uganda?"
Lord ROSEBERY at once answered, "I said little, but I--"
"_Ment-more_," interrupted the Private Secretary, sticking a label on
his Lordship's travelling bag.
"Quite so," said Lord ROSEBERY, and off he went.
* * * * *
BAD FOR WOULD-BE "ENGLISH WIVES"--It is reported that "Yankee Girls
and American Belles were the feature of the Miscellaneous Market."
This should put our young men on their mettle--tin, of course, for
choice. No reasonable offer refused.
* * * * *
[Illustration: "HOW IT'S DONE!"
(_Hard on Sketchley, who was there at the time and in the thick of it,
and has just had his Picture photographed._)
"OH! MR. SKETCHLEY, HOW CLEVER OF YOU TO PAINT SUCH A LARGE PICTURE
FROM SUCH A SMALL PHOTOGRAPH!"]
* * * * *
LAYS OF MODERN HOME.
NO. V.--MY BUTTONS!
[Illustration]
It wasn't that he blacked the plate
And rouged the boots, and breathed, half-choking,
Half-snorting, when he leaned to wait;
Although these habits _are_ provoking.
It wasn't that he sang his fill,
Although his mouth with food was giving;
This latter, as a feat of skill,
Might have procured the lad a living.
It wasn't that he'd purchase hosts
Of squibs and sweets to mess the pantry;
That horrid boy, and broomstick-ghosts
On timid JANE would oft, and ANN try.
These petty peccadilloes might
Have all improved with careful training.--
It was his shameless appetite
That gave us cause for most complaining.
He swilled and stuffed as never mere
Adult voracity can own to;
He was a "growing boy," I fear;
I wonder much what he has grown to!
He wore away our forks and spoons
With hard, incessant gormandizing;
The Baker's, and, for some blue moons,
The Milkman's bill were quite surprising.
[Illustration]
He cost us more in Butcher's meat
And Grocer's tea, and things from Cutlers,
He cost, I solemnly repeat,
Far more than two or three big Butlers.
And thus his fat increased until't
Became a show that sight bewilders;
We trembled for our mansion built,
You see, by noted Jerry-builders.
At length (you'll scarce the fact believe)
One evening, as we sat at dinner,
And strove our senses to deceive
By just imagining him thinner;
We heard a crack, a burst, a groan,
We felt a broadside round us battered,
We _saw_ his buttons fiercely blown
About our heads, and piecemeal scattered!
The suit had split; the boy was bare
Of clothes designed to last for ages;
We gave him notice then and there--
This _volume_, so to speak, of pages!
* * * * *
SONG TO BE SUNG IN HAYMARKET ORCHESTRA DURING OVERTURE.--"Oh, why
should we wait till to-morrow? See _Queen of Manoa_ to-night!"
* * * * *
ON A GUERNSEY EXCURSION CAR.
_The car, drawn by four horses, and crowded with Excursionists
on pleasure bent, is toiling up the steep streets of St. Peter
Port, when it comes to a sudden halt._
[Illustration: "Endeavours to assume a knowing and horsey
expression."]
_Excursionists_ (_impatiently_). Now then, what's this? What are we
stopping here for?
_The Driver_. Ladies and Gentlemen, you will thoroughly understand
that it is customary for the car to stop here, in order that the
party may be photographed, thus providing an agreeable souvenir of
the trip, and a useful means of identification at Scotland Yard. (_A
Photographer appears in the road with a camera, and the party prepare
themselves for perpetuation in a pleased flutter_.) P'raps, Sir--(_to
a Mild Man on the box-seat_)--you'd like to be taken 'andling the
ribbons? Most of our Gentlemen do.
[_The Mild Man accepts the reins, and endeavours to assume a
knowing and horsey expression._
_A Timid Lady_ (_behind_). I _do_ hope no Gentleman will take the
reins, unless he is thoroughly accustomed to driving four-in-hand.
Suppose they took it into their heads to run away suddenly!
_Driver_ (_solemnly_). Don't you alarm yourself about that, Ma'am, in
the very slightest degree. These 'osses take that pride in themselves,
they'd stop here all day rather than spoil their own likenesses!
[_The M.M. intimates that he is no novice in the art of
driving, which is fairly true as regards a pony-trap--and the
fears of the_ T.L. _are allayed._
_Photographer_. Now, steady all, please, those at the further ends of
the seats stand up so as to come into the picture, a little more to
the right, please, the gentleman in the straw 'at, turn your 'ead a
trifle more towards the camera, the lady in the pink shirt,--that's
better. Better take off your spectacles, Sir. Now then--are you ready?
_A Comic Exc._ 'Old on a bit--I've a fly on my nose.
[_Some of the party giggle; the photograph is successfully
taken, and the car proceeds._
_The Driver_. On your left, Ladies and Gentlemen, you have the
Prison--the cheapest Hotel in the Island for parties who intend making
a protracted stay here. On our right we are now passing "Paradise."
You will observe that someone has 'ung his 'at and coat up at
the entrance, not being certain of getting in. Notice the tree in
front--the finest specimen on the island of the good old Guernsey
hoak.
[_He keeps turning from time to time to address these
instructive remarks to the passengers behind him._
_The Timid Lady._ I wish he wouldn't talk so much, and look more where
he is going--we're _much_ too near the hedge!
_Driver_ (_standing up, and turning his back on the horses, as they
trot on_). Ladies and Gentlemen, you will all thoroughly understand
that the roads in this Island are narrow. Consequently, you must look
after the branches and briars yourselves. I've enough to do to look
after my 'orses, I assure you, and it looks bad to see 'ats and
bonnets decorating the 'edges after the car has passed. (_Some of the
Excursionists look at one another uneasily._) The glass-'ouses you see
in such quantities, are employed in the production of early grapes and
tomators for the London Market. This Island alone exports annually--
[_Here the car rounds a corner rather sharply, and he sits
down again._
_The Mild Man (with a Mild Man's thirst for information_). What are
those buildings over there with the chimney?
[_Here he is conscious of being furtively prodded in the
back--but decides to take no notice._
_Driver_ (_rising as before_). Those buildings, Ladies and Gentlemen,
are Chemical works for extracting iodine from seaweed. The seaweed,
after being dried, is then boiled, and from the ash--
[_Here the Mild Man, who has been listening with much
interest, is startled by receiving a folded piece of paper,
which it passed up to him from behind._
_The M.M._ (_to himself, as he reads the message_). "Keep the Driver
quiet. He is drunk." Good Gracious! I never noticed--and yet--dear me,
I hope they don't expect _me_ to interfere!
_The Timid Lady_ (_to the Driver_). For goodness sake never mind about
iodine now--sit down and attend to your driving, like a good man!
_Driver_. You will thoroughly understand, my horses require _no_
attention. (_Sleepily._) No attention whatever. I assure you I am
perfectly competent to drive this car and give you information
going along at the same time. (_The car takes another corner rather
abruptly._) Simply matter of habit. (_Gravely._) Matter'f habit!
_A Serious Exc._ (_in an undertone._) A very _bad_ habit, I'm afraid.
It's really time somebody else took the reins from him!
_The M.M._ (_overhearing_). I'm afraid they mean me--I wish now I'd
never touched the reins at all!
_Driver_. The Church we are now coming to, is St. Martin's, built in
the year eleven 'undred.
_A Female Exc._ (_critically_). It _has_ got an old-fashioned look
about it, certainly.
_A Male Exc._ There's nothing to see inside of these old churches. I
went in one the other day, and I was looking up at the rafters, and
I saw a sort o' picture there, and I said, "Ullo--they've been
advertising Pears' Soap here, or something." But when I looked again,
it was only an old fresco. I was so little interested I walked out
without tipping the Verger!
_The Female Exc._ That Church we went to on Sunday evening is very
old.
_Her Comp._ Is it? How do you know?
_The F.E._ Why, my dress was covered with bits of fluff out of the
hassock!
_Driver._ The carved stone figure you see by the gate, is supposed
to be a portrait of Julius Caesar's Grandmother, and very like the
old lady. (_The Excursionists nearest him smile in a sickly way, to
avoid hurting his feelings, as the car moves on--to halt once more at
Icart Point._) It is customary to alight here and go round the point,
and I can assure you, Ladies and Gentlemen, the scenery is well worth
your inspection and will give you a little idea of what the Island
_is_.
_Excursionists_ (_taking advantage of the opportunity to discuss the
situation_). I noticed it the minute I set eyes on him--he never
ought to have been sent out like this ... He's been to a wedding this
morning, so I heard, and it's upset him a little, that's all ... Upset
_him_--we're lucky if he doesn't upset _us_. What a fidget you are! I
shan't take _you_ into Switzerland next year, if you're like this...
If Switzerland's full of a lot of drunken men, I don't want to go...
Well, what had we better _do_ about it? Perhaps _this_ gentleman
would--Oh, no, I couldn't take the responsibility, really, not without
knowing the way. Well, we can't _walk_ back, that's certain--we must
trust to luck, that's all! Pretty bit of the coast you get here ...
Oh, don't talk about the scenery _now_, when, for all we know!--&c.,
&c.
[_The car starts again, and presently arrives at a winding
and precipitous road leading down to Petit Bot Bay, where the
Driver again rises with his back to the horses, and proceeds
to address the Excursionists, as they sit paralysed with
horror._
_Driver_. Ladies and Gentlemen, at this point I shall explain the
scenery. (_The Timid Lady protests that she is content to leave
the scenery unexplained._) Pardon me, this is a portion of the
scenery--(_Here his eyes close and reopen with an effort_)--a portion
of the scenery that can only be properly enjoyed coming out on one of
these cars. If you go out with ordinary drivers, they take you along
the main roads, and you come away fancying you've seen the Island.
Now the advantage of coming along with _me_--(_His eyes close once
more--the Excursionists implore him to attend to his team_.) You will
thoroughly understand there is not the slightest cause to apprehend
any danger. I've driven this car fifteen years without least
accident--up to _present_. So you can devote your whole attention
to the scenery, without needing to keep an eye upon the Driver.
(_He points to the abyss_.) That is the _shortest_ way down--on this
occasion, however, I shall endeavour _not_ to take it. (_He whips up
his horses, and accomplishes the descent at a brisk pace_.) There,
didn't I _tell_ you there wouldn't be no accident? Very _well_, then.
P'rhaps you'll believe me another time!
_Mild Man_ (_alighting at Hotel for luncheon_). We've had a remarkably
lucky escape--I never felt more thankful in my life!
_A Gloomy Exc._ Don't you be in too great a hurry, Sir! We've got to
get _back_--and he's bound to be worse after he's had his lunch!
[_The M.M.'s appetite for lobster is entirely destroyed by
this sinister prediction; but whether the Driver has been
unjustly maligned, or whether he has sobered himself in
the interval--he reappears in a more sedentary, and less
discursive mood, and the journey home proves agreeably devoid
of sensation._
* * * * *
SIMPLE STORIES.
"Be always kind to animals wherever you may be."
RUBY AND THE ROOK.
RUBY, although she was something of a tomboy, was a pretty and clever
girl.
But, like many pretty and clever little ladies, she was sometimes very
naughty. When she was good, she was as good as gold, but when she was
naughty, she was as naughty as pinchbeck.
The other day, when her dear Mamma was away for the morning, it
happened to be one of her pinchbeck times. Nothing would please
her--she was cross with her governess at breakfast, she quarrelled
with her bread-and-milk; and even when her favourite tame Rook,
Cawcus, came hopping on her shoulder, she refused to give it anything
to eat, but hit it on the beak with her spoon.
[Illustration]
Miss DUMBELL was very much grieved at the way in which her pupil
lolled in her chair, gave sullen answers, and put flies in the
milk-jug, and pinched the cat's tail. "Mind, RUBY," said Miss DUMBELL,
"at eleven o'clock I shall expect you in the school-room with that
page of French phrases quite perfect." RUBY's eyes flashed as she
went out of the room; she pouted, she swung her skirts, and shook her
shoulders, so that even Miss DUMBELL, the most patient and kindest of
governesses, quite longed to slap her.
RUBY went to the school-room; she immediately flung the French
phrase-book from one end of the room to the other. She took some
story-books, and a little basket full of apples, bath-buns and
"three-corners," and ran down to a little plantation called the
Wilderness, at the bottom of the garden. She selected one of the
tallest elms, and as she could climb like a kitten, she was soon at
the top of it, quite hidden from view among the leaves.