PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI VOLUME 93, SEPTEMBER 3rd 1887 _edited by Sir Francis Burnand_ * * * * * SOME NOTES AT STARMOUTH. 3 P. M. --Arrive at Starmouth--the retired Watering-place at which Ipropose to write the Nautical Drama that is to render me famous andwealthy. Leave luggage at Station, and go in search of lodgings. Hotelout of the question--_table d'hôte_ quite fatal to inspiration. On theEsplanade, noting likely places with critical eye. Perhaps I _am_ alittle fastidious. What I should _really_ like is a little cottage;two bow-windows, clematis on porch, flagstaff, and cannon (if itwouldn't go off) in front. I could achieve immortality in a place likethat. Sea-view, of course, _indispensable_. Must be within sight ofthe ever-changing ocean, within hearing of "the innumerable laughterof the waves"--I know what the phrase _means_, though I shouldn't liketo have to explain it, and the waves just now are absolutely roaring. [Illustration: Down by the Sea. ] 3·15. --Still noting; plenty of time, and Starmouth "all before mewhere to choose. " More than a mile of Esplanade, and several brassplates and cards advertising "Apartments. " Must be cautious--not throwthe handkerchief in a hurry. Haven't seen the ideal place _yet_. 3·30. --Better make a beginning. Try "Blenheim House" (all the houseshere either bear ducal, naval, or frankly plebeian names, I observe). Ring: startling effect--grey-mouldy old person, with skeleton handsfolded on woollen tippet, glides in a ghastly manner down passage. They really ought to put up a warning to people with nerves, as M. VANBEERS does at his _Salon Parisien_. Feel as if I had raised a ghost. Wonder if she waits on lodgers--if so, my dinners will be rather likethe banquet GULLIVER had at Laputa. "Has she rooms to let at once?""No?" "_Oh!_" Well out of _that!_ 3·45. --Warming to my work. Ring at door in "Amelia Terrace. " Maidappears--nice-looking girl, rather. "Have you"--I begin--when I see aboy at the ground-floor window. Don't object to boys, as a class, butthis particular boy is pallid, with something round his throat, and anindescribable air about him of conscious deadliness, and pride in theunusual terror he inspires, which can only be accounted for byrecent Measles. Never under the same roof with _that_ boy! He eyes mebalefully, and I stare back, fascinated. "Have you, " I beginagain--(I am full of resource, thank goodness!) "a Mrs. WALKER--(firstappropriate name that occurs to me)--staying here?" By a horriblecoincidence, they _have_! She has taken the ground-floor--where thatboy is! Awkward--very. . . . I manage to gasp out, "Then will youplease mention that I called?" and retire before she can ask my name. Presence of mind, again! 4 P. M. --Still seeking. Not so fastidious as I _was_. Have given upthe cottage, and clematis, and flagstaff. Only place answering thatdescription belongs--or so I inferred, from his language--to a retiredsea-captain, whom I disturbed in his nap to inquire whether he letlodgings. As it happened, he _didn't_. Then (as I very nearly wentback and told him) what right had he to sport a brass plate? However, I got some good racy dialogue for the Nautical Drama out of him. 4·15. --More failures. Starmouth busy digesting, which it does publiclyin bow-windows. I must _not_ be so particular. I will do withoutbalconies--even bow-windows--but I cannot, I will not, sit onhorsehair furniture. 4·20. --After all, so long as I get a sea-view, what matters? I can benautical and dramatic on _any_ kind of chair. And "Collingwood House, "too--what a name for me! I will go in. Rejected again--nothing tillThursday fortnight! I am beginning to feel like an unpopular man ata dance. I regard the people wallowing at the windows with a growinghate; they are the elect--but that is no reason why they should paradeit in that ostentatious way--bad taste!. . . Can't get any rooms alongthese terraces--I subdue my pride, and try a back-street. 4·30. --Nature too strong for me--I _must_ face the sea. Surely theremust be _some_ cards I have overlooked!. . . Thought so! staring me inthe face all the time! Ring--ghost effect again--same old grey lady!She asks me, in hollow tones, what I want. I ask her whether I left myumbrella here (full of resource!) "No!" "Oh!" Back-street again afterthat. 4·40. --Even the back-streets will have none of me! I grow morbid. Remember words of song, entreating vague somethings (perhaps stars)"to smile on their vagabond boy"--no one smiles on me. And _I_ to havevapoured about "throwing the handkerchief. " Fool--fool!. . . They aremore sympathetic in the back-streets, though. "Starmouth is veryfull!" They say, complacently, "they don't know if there's any place I_could_ get into, not to say at once--they really _don't_!" 5 P. M. --Back on the Esplanade again. Why, I certainly haven't been_here_ before. Ring. While I am waiting for some one to appear, facerises at window--_the measly boy!_ Confound these terrace-houses, allalike! This time I _don't_ wait--I bolt. They will think I am a clownout for a holiday, but I can't help that. 5·15. --No, I must draw the line somewhere. At "Hatfield House, " (goodaddress this) landlady appears with eruptive face, powdered--effectnot entirely happy--but I waive that. She has rooms--but thesitting-room is out at the end of a yard, and I am to get to my bedroom through the kitchen! Can't write an epoch-making drama underthose conditions. 5·30. --I am growing humbler--I would almost take a coal-cellarnow. Think I will go back to Hatfield and recant. . . . I have. "Verysorry--this moment let". . . . "Oh!" 5·35. --_At last!_ May choicest blessings light upon the head ofPLAPPER!--or rather of Mrs. PLAPPER, as her husband is out. She hastaken me in! Charming rooms--not actually facing the sea, but withcapital view of it round corner from bow-window. PLAPPER is anoptician--wonder whether it is weak eyes, or wifely duty, thatmakes Mrs. P. Wear blue spectacles? Everything arranged--terms mostreasonable--now to recover luggage. Stop; better ask address--or Imight never be able to find my optician again--like _Mrs. BarrettBrowning_ and her lost Bower! "You've only got to use PLAPPER'S name, Sir, anywhere, and it will be all right, " says Mrs. P. With naturalpride. Very convenient. For instance: _Stern Constable_ (to me). "Can't come in here, Sir. " _Myself. _ "Can't I, though? _PLAPPER!_" Andin I go! Or I am in a scrape of some sort: "Have you anything to say?"asks the Inspector. I whisper in his ear, "PLAPPER!" And they groveland release me. 5·45. --Odd--but now I find myself wondering ungratefully, whetherI mightn't have done better than PLAPPER, after all. This is humannature, I suppose--but discreditable. I _am_ overjoyed--really. I nolonger hate people. _I_ too am an initiate! But I can pity poor devilswho are houseless, I hope. . . . I order sundry things: "Send them into PLAPPER'S. " Luggage regained and sent back--to PLAPPER'S. I feelself-respect once more. 6 P. M. --Returning to PLAPPER'S. And in this secure retreat my Nauticaldrama is destined to see the light--if PLAPPER only knew! I feel anaffection already for this humble temporary home. Mrs. P. Meets me atthe door. "So sorry, Sir--but _you can't have the rooms, after all_!PLAPPER had let 'em quite unbeknown to me!" And this is Saturday! _I am under a curse!_ * * * * * THE BALLET. _Lament by the Rev. S. D. Headlam. _ What was it first my fancy fed, My steps to the Alhambra led, And finally quite turned my head? The Ballet! What, when I studied it apart, Struck me with force that made me start, As being a noble form of Art? The Ballet! And what, when seen night after night, Inspired me with supreme delight, And made me to the _Pall-Mall_ write? The Ballet! But what, when kindled with its fire, I hoped my Bishop to inspire, Alas! excited but his ire? The Ballet! And what, although the orthodox Two places in an upper box I offered him, --but gave him shocks? The Ballet! Ah! what, though every nerve I've strained To see the dancers' battle gained, Leaves me episcopally chained? The Ballet! * * * * * LAST FRUITS OF THE SESSION. --Pairs. * * * * * [Illustration: VENICE UNPRESERVED. ] "The modern Venetian takes pleasure not only in neglecting but inpersecuting the palace and the gondola. . . . As to the gondola, the massof Venetians possess none, and rarely go in them. . . . They forget thatthe much-desired foreigner does not come to Venice to read signboardsfrom a steamboat up and down the Grand Canal; and, by handing overthis magnificent waterway to a company of foreign speculators, theyhave well-nigh reduced the ancient body of gondoliers to beggary. Thesteamers are numerous and noisy. . . . If one contrasts the passengers ofthese rival craft, the gondola and the _vaporetto_, one asks which, as a body, most contribute to the prosperity of Venice, and somerits most consideration. . . . The penny steamer and the gondola areirreconcileable, and cannot exist long together, for the simple reasonthat the gondoliers cannot earn a support, and must take to otheravocations. " "EXSUL'S" _Letter to the Times on "The Venice of To-day. "_ _Shade of_ CHILDE HAROLD _sings_:-- Yes, this is Venice; yon's the Bridge of Sighs; The palace and the prison, still they stand: But 'midst the maze foul funnel fumes arise. As by the touch of an enchanter's hand, A hundred such their smoky wings expand, Around me, and a dying glory smiles On what was once the poet's, artist's land, Soot smears the wingéd Lion's marble piles, And Venice reeks like Hull, throned on her hundred isles. She looks a swart sea Cyclops, from the ocean, Rising with smutted walls and blackened towers; The _vaporetto_, with erratic motion, Muddies the waters with its carbon-showers. And such she is! Progress's dismal dowers Have spoilt the picture; now the eye may feast On garish signs and posters. Gracious powers! Sewing-machines and hair-washes at least Might spare the Grand Canal. Trade is an ogre-ish beast! In Venice Vulcan's echoes hiss and roar, And idle sits the hapless Gondolier. His Gondola is crumbling on the shore, The Penny Steamer's whistle racks his ear. 'ARRY exults--but Beauty is not here; Trade swells, Arts grow--but Nature seems to die. Hucksters may boast that Venice is less "dear, " "_Progresso!_" is the Press, the Public cry; But, by great RUSKIN'S self, the thing is all my eye. For unto us she had a spell beyond Cheap dinners and Advertisement's array Of polychrome, of which Trade seems so fond. Alas! the Dogeless city's silent sway Will lessen momently, and fade away, When the Rialto echoes to the roar Of _vaporetti_, and in sad decay The Gondola, its swan-like flittings o'er, Neglected rots upon the solitary shore. Such is the Venice of my youth and age, Its spell a void, its charm a vacancy. Rosy Romance, thou owest many a page, Ay, many that erst grew beneath _mine_ eye, To what was once the loved reality Of this true fairy-land; but I refuse To deck with Art's fantastic wizardry A haunt of Trade. Mine is not Mammon's Muse, _She_ will not sing for hire of Soaps, or Silks, or Shoes. I know that there are such, --but let them go, -- They came like ghouls, they'll disappear like dreams. But oh! my Venice, dare they treat thee so? I fain would flay the Vandal horde; still teems My mind with memories of thy towers and streams, -- All that I sought for in thy midst, and found. Must these too go? The ogre Progress deems Such fair and flattering phantasies unsound; Now other voices speak, and other sights surround. "The spouseless Adriatic mourns her lord, " Ay, and yet worse, Venetian souls grow rude. The Gondola lies rotting unrestored, The Gondolier unhired must lounge and brood, Or stoop to "stoking" for his daily food, On board a puffing fiend that by "horse pow'r" Measures its might. Oh! base ingratitude! Dogs! ye one day shall howl for the lost hour, When Venice was a Queen, with loveliness for dower. Gondolas ruled, and now the Steam Launch reigns, A stoker shovels where a lover knelt. This thing of steam and smoke that stinks and stains, Might suit the tainted Thames, the sluggish Scheldt; But the Canal, which for long years hath felt The sunshine of Romance--that downward go? This is the deadliest blow that Trade hath dealt; Enough to bring back blind old DANDOLO, To fight his country's latest most debasing foe. Before St. Mark still glow his steeds of brass, But garish signboards glitter in the sun; And up and down the watery alleys pass The snorting steamers. Venice lost and won, Her thirteen hundred years of beauty done, Sinks to an Isle of Dogs. Let her life close! Better be whelmed beneath the waves, and shun Ev'n in destruction's depths her Vandal foes, Than live a thrall to Trade, a scourge to eyes and nose. Dreams of Romance--all shattered! They revile Our "Ruskinismo, " do these souls of dust, Who care not for their sumptuous marble pile, Oh, sons unworthy of their splendid trust! With his oar broken, and his dry keel thrust, Unused ashore, the Gondolier recalls Gay days and nights of glory, such as must Too oft remind him _who_ his land enthrals, And flings a sordid cloud o'er Venice' shining walls. How can the Childe's poetic shade refuse To plead his cause, on his base foe make war? Perchance redemption from a phantom Muse, Whose voice now faintly echoes from afar, May come, and check his sordid conqueror's car, E'en in its roll of victory, snatch the reins, From Greed's foul hands and further havoc bar, Say, _shall_ the Penny Steamer's petty gains, Banish the Gondolier, and hush his cheery strains? * * * * * [Illustration: TENDER PASSAGES. _He_ (_tenderly_). "YES; WHEN IT'S DONE AGAIN, YOU MUST REALLY SEE THEBLONDIN DONKEY!" _She_ (_sincerely_). "I WILL. I'LL LOOK OUT FOR IT, AND, WHEN I DO SEEIT, I WILL THINK OF _YOU_!!"] * * * * * VIRTUES OF OMISSION. PEOPLE--Mr. IMPREY, Mr. GEORGE SMITH (of Coalville), and others--areactually to be found contending for the barren honour of havinginvented that terrible nuisance of a catch-phrase, "Three Acres and aCow!" Strange and morbid perversion of ambition! As well fight forthe deep discredit of having been the first to hit upon such kindredcontroversial horrors as the boring and question-begging "gags" of"Law and Order, " "Patriot first, and Party-man afterwards, " "Hand overto the tender mercies, &c. , " "Disintegration of the Empire, " or eventhat most hackneyed of political phrases, "Grand Old Man" itself. Now, if any one took credit to himself for never, never having utteredthe "Acre and Cow" Shibboleth, or made use of any others of thesesoul-sickening bits of polemical claptrap, _Mr. Punch could_ understand, and admire, and envy. There be things that _everybody_--possessed ofsense and sobriety--would "rather not have said. " * * * * * THE WAY OF THE WIND. _By an anxious Unionist. _ [Mr. T. W. RUSSELL has formally withdrawn from the Unionist Party. ] Ah! sorely tossed is our poor "Union" bark, We shall not get to port without a tussle. They say the wind will change against us. Hark! That wind seems rising; I can hear its RUSSELL. * * * * * A FIGHT FOR THE FORTY. --Sir EDWARD HAMLEY is, admittedly, one of thegreatest strategists the British Army possesses. Although in the primeof life, this gallant officer will be "automatically retired, " unlesshe receives a military appointment before the end of October. It hasbeen suggested that he should be employed to work out a scheme for theprotection of London. This will be far easier work for him to do thanto have to frame a defence of the Government that has so long, and sostrangely, and (some say) so maliciously overlooked him. * * * * * CON: FOR THE CONSIDERATE. --Why is Happiness like an Act of Parliament?Because you can never tell its value until it is passed. * * * * * ALL IN PLAY. DEAR MR. PUNCH, [Illustration] This year has been a great one for America in London. The Exhibitionin West Kensington, with its Wild West Show, has attracted itsthousands, and at this moment two dramas (both from the United States)are very popular in the Strand and Oxford Street. A few nights ago, anxious to save you the trouble of filling a stall with your customaryurbanity and critical acumen (to say nothing of your august person andopera-glasses), I visited the Princess's, to assist at a performanceof _The Shadows of a Great City_. It was really a most amusing piece, written by JEFFERSON, the _Rip Van Winkle_ of our youth, who you willremember was wont in years gone by to drink to the health of ourselvesand our wives and our families at the Adelphi. The _City_ was NewYork, and the most substantial of the _Shadows_, Mr. J. H. BARNES, agentleman who might be aptly described as one of the "heaviest" of ourlight comedians. He played a fine-hearted sailor with an earnestnessof purpose that carried all before it. I cannot conscientiously saythat he gave me the idea that he was exactly fitted to take command ofthe Channel Fleet, but after seeing him I retained the impression thathe would have felt entirely at home on the quarter-deck of a ThamesSteamboat. Mr. HARRY NICHOLLS, who has so often assisted to make thefortune (as a jocular scoundrel) of a Drury Lane melodrama, was alsoin the cast, and so was Miss CICELY RICHARDS, _the Belinda_ of _OurBoys_. Then there was Miss MARY RORKE, a most sympathetic heroine, andseveral other excellent performers, whose names, however, were lessfamiliar to me. The play, admirably mounted with capital scenery, recalled a number ofpleasant memories. Here was a suggestion of _The Ticket of Leave Man_, there a notion from _The Colleen Bawn_, and yonder ideas from _TheLong Strike_ and _Arrah-na-Pogue_. There is nothing new under thesun, and _The Shadows of a Great City_ is no exception to the rule. However, it is a thoroughly exciting play, full of murder and mirth, wrong-doing and waggery, startling incidents, and side-splittingcomicalities. It was certainly greatly enjoyed, when I saw it, bythe audience, who cheered Mr. BARNES and Miss RORKE to the echo, andhissed all their enemies to their heart's content, as a reward for themost effectively-simulated villany. Very soon all the Theatres will be busy with the Autumn-cum-WinterSeason. The first on the List is Drury Lane, which, reserving PAYNEfor the Pantomime at Christmas, opens in September with _Pleasure_. Always yours sincerely, ONE WHO HAS GONE TO PIECES. * * * * * SALUBRITIES ABROAD. _Still at Royat. Hotel Continental. --À propos_ of PULLER "airinghis French" Miss LOUISA METTERBRUN said something delighful to himthe other day at dinner. PULLER had been instructing us all in someFrench idioms until Madame METTERBRUN set him right in hispronunciation. He owned that he had made a slip. "But, " says he, wagging his head and pulling up his wristbands with the air of aman thoroughly well satisfied with himself generally, "but I thinkyou'll allow that I can speak French better than most Englishmen, eh?" Madame METTERBRUN doesn't exactly know what to say, but Miss LOUISAcomes to the rescue. "O Mr. PULLER"--he is frequently at their housein London, and they know him intimately--"I always say to Mamma, whenwe're abroad, that I do like to hear you talk French"--PULLERsmirks and thinks to himself that this is a girl of sense and rareappreciation--"because, " she goes on quietly, and all at table arelistening, "because your speaking French reminds me so of home. " Herhome is London. I think PULLER won't ask Miss LOUISA for an opinion onhis French accent again in a hurry. * * * * * I have just been reading VICTOR HUGO'S _Choses Vues_. Admirable!_Fuite de Louis Philippe!_ What a pitiful story. Then his account, marvellously told, and the whole point of the narrative given in twolines, of what became of the brain of TALLEYRAND. Graphically writtenis his visit to THIERS on behalf of ROCHEFORT. Says THIERS to him, "_Cent journaux me traînent tous les matins dans la boue. Maissavez-vous mon procédé? Je ne les lis pas. _" To which HUGO rejoined, "_C'est précisément ce que je fais. Lire les diatribes, c'est respirerles latrines de sa renommée. _" Most public men, certainly mostauthors, artists, and actors, would do well to remember this advice, and act upon it. * * * * * "_Choses Vues_, " written "_Shows Vues_" would be a good heading for anall-round-about theatrical and entertainment article in _Mr. Punch's_pages. Patent this. * * * * * PULLER has recovered his high spirits. The temperature has changed:the waters are agreeing with him. So is the dinner hour, which M. HALL, our landlord, kindly permits us to have at the exceptionaland un-Royat-like hour of 7·30. At dinner he is convivial. MadameMETTERBRUN and her two daughters are discussing music. Cousin JANEis deeply interested in listening to Madame METTERBRUN on WAGNER. Theyoung Ladies are thorough Wagnerites. La Contessa is unable to geta word in about SHAKSPEARE and SALVINI, and her daughter, who, in a quiet tone and with a most deliberate manner, announces herselfas belonging to the "Take-everything-easy Society, " is not at thisparticular moment interested in anything except the _menu_, which sheis lazily scrutinising through her long-handled _pince-nez_. Mrs. DINDERLIN, having succumbed to the usual first attack of Royatdepression, is leaning back in her chair, smelling salts and noddingassent to the Wagnerite theories, with which she entirely agrees. For my own part, I am neutral; but as the METTERBRUNS are thoroughmusicians, --the mother being a magnificent pianist, and the eldestdaughter a composer, --I am really interested in hearing all they haveto say on the subject. Our bias is, temporarily, decidedly Wagnerian, for Cousin JANE, who is really in favour of "tune, " and plenty ofit, --being specially fond of BELLINI and DONIZETTI, --in scientificmusical society has not the courage of her opinions. From composers the conversation travels to executants, and we name thefavourite singers. After we have pretty well exhausted the list, andobjected to this one as having a head voice, or to that as using the_vibrato_, or to the other as dwelling on an upper note ("queer sortof existence, " says PULLER, gradually coming up, as it were to thesurface to open his mouth for breath, --whereat Cousin JANE smiles, andMiss CASANOVA lazily nods approbation of the joke--while the rest ofus ignore PULLER, putting him aside as not wanted just now, --whendown he goes again), we generally agree that GAYARRÉ is about thebest tenor we have had in London for some time; that SANTLEY is stillunequalled as a baritone; that there is no one now to play and sing_Mephistopheles_ like FAURE; that M. MAUREL is about the finestrepresentative of _Don Giovanni_; that Miss ARNOLDSON shows greatpromise; that ALBANY is unrivalled; that MARIE ROZE is difficult tobeat as _Carmen_; and that it is a pity that PATTI'S demands are soexorbitant; and having exhausted the list of operatic artists, --Madameand her daughters holding that certain Germans, with whose names we, unfortunately for us, are not even acquainted, are far superior to anyFrench or Italian singers that can be named--there ensues a pause inthe conversation, of which the Countess CASANOVA takes advantage, and extending her right hand, which movement sharply jingles herbracelets, and so, as it were, sounds a bell to call us to attention, cuts in quickly with an emphatic, "Well, I don't profess to understandmusic as _you_ do. I know what I like"--("Hear! hear!" _sotto voce_from PULLER, coming up again to the surface, which draws a languidlyapproving inclination of the head from Miss CASANOVA, and a smile, deprecating the interruption, from Cousin JANE), --"and I must say, "continues the Countess, emphatically, "I would rather have one hourof SALVINI in _Othello_, than a whole month of the best Operas bythe best composers, --WAGNER included, " and down comes her hand on thetable, all the bracelets ringing down the curtain on the first act. We, the non-combatants, feel that the mailed gauntlet has been throwndown by the Countess as a challenge to the METTERBRUNS. "O Mother!" faintly remonstrates Miss CASANOVA, who loves a stall atthe Opera. She fears that her mother's energetic declaration meanswar, and fans herself helplessly. I am preparing to reconcile music and the drama, and am getting readya supply of oil for what I foresee will be troubled waters, as theMETTERBRUNS are beginning to rustle their feathers and flap theirwings, --when PULLER, leaning well forward, and stretching out anexplanatory hand, with his elbow planted firmly on the table, ("Verybad manners, " says Cousin JANE afterwards to me) says genially, "Well, _voyez vous_, look here, you may talk of your WAGNERS and SHAKSPEARES, and GAYARRÉS, and PATTIS, but, for singing and acting, give me ARTHURROBERTS. Yes, " he repeats pleasantly but defiantly, and taking up, as it were, the Countess's gauntlet, "SALVINI'S not in it with ARTHURROBERTS. " The Countess's fan spreads out and works furiously. The steam isgetting up. The METTERBRUNS open their eyes, and regard one another inconsternation. They don't know who ARTHUR ROBERTS is. "Not know!" exclaims PULLER, quite in his element. "Well, when youcome to London, you send to me, and I'll take you to hear him. " "He's a Music-Hall singer, " says the Countess, fanning herself with anair of contemptuous indifference. "Music-Hall Ar-_tiste_!" returns PULLER, emphasising the secondsyllable, which to his mind expresses a great deal, and makes all thedifference. "Now, Miladi, " he goes on, imitating the manner of oneof his own favourite counsel, engaged by PULLER & CO. , conducting across-examination, "Have you ever seen him?" "Yes, " she replies, shrugging her shoulders, "once. And, " she adds, making the bracelets jingle again, as with a tragedy queen's action ofthe right arm she sweeps away into space whole realms of Music Hallsand comic singers, "that was quite enough. " "Didn't he make you laugh?" continues PULLER, still in the characterof a stern cross-examiner. "Laugh!" almost shrieks the Countess, extending her hands so suddenlythat I have only time to throw myself back to avoid a sharp tap onthe head from her fan. "Heavens! not a bit! not the least bit in theworld! He made me sad! I saw the people in the stalls laughing, and Isaid, "--here she appeals with both hands to the majority of sensiblepeople at large--still at large--"'Am I stupid? am I dull? Do I notunderstand?'" "O Mother!" expostulates her daughter, in her most languid manner, "he_was_ funny!" "Funny!" ejaculates the Countess, tossing her head. "I'd rather see ARTHUR ROBERTS than SALVINI, " says PULLER, waggishly, but with conviction. "I think I would, for choice, " says Miss CASANOVA, meditatively, butseeing the Countess's horrified expression of countenance, she takescare to add more languidly than ever, as if taking the smallest partin an argument were really too exhausting, "but then, you know, Ireally don't understand tragedy, and I love a laugh. " "Prefers ARTHUR ROBERTS to SALVINI!" exclaims the Countess, and throwsup her hands and eyes to the ceiling as if imploring Heaven not tovisit on her the awful heresy of her child. Here I interpose. SALVINI, I say, is a great _Artiste_, no doubt ofit, a marvellous Tragedian; and ARTHUR ROBERTS is not, in the truedramatic sense of the word, a genuine Comedian; but he is, in anothersense a true Comedian, though of the Music-Hall school. "What a school!" murmurs the Countess, and with a pained expression ofcountenance as though she were suffering agonies. The METTERBRUNS see the difference. Madame remembers a fat comic manin Berlin, at some garden, who used to wear a big hat and carrya large pipe, and make her laugh very much when she was a girl. Certainly, in his way, he was an artist. Is this ARTHUR ROBERTSanything like MAX SPLÜTTERWESSEL? At this point, as we have finishedcoffee, and the Countess finds the room hot, I propose adjourning thedebate to the Restaurant in the garden, as we are too late for theband at the Casino Samie. The party is broken up in order to walk down to our rendezvous. PULLER, whose idea of making things pleasant, and, as he expresses it, "sweetening everyone all round, " is to order "drinks" for everybody, insists upon the party taking "_consommations_"--he loves saying thisword--at his expense. The Countess at first objects, as also doesMadame METTERBRUN; but, on PULLER'S explaining that he belongs to"The Two-with-you Society, " they accept this explanation as utterlyunintelligible but perfectly satisfactory; and so, accepting PULLER'S_al fresco_ hospitality, we form a cheerful group round two tablesput together for our accommodation. PULLER'S hospitality has taken theform of grenadines, chartreuses, and "sherry-gobblers, "--he loves thisword too, --for us all round, and he has ordered for himself a strangemixture, which perfumes the night air as if some nauseous draughthad been brought out of a chemist's shop, and which looks like greenstagnant water in a big glass. It is called by PULLER, with greatglee, an "Absinthe gummy. " Anything nastier to look at or to smell I am not acquainted with inthe way of drinks. However, he is our host, and I have a grenadinebefore me of his ordering, and between my lips an excellent cigarwhich is his gift. I can only say mildly, "It looks nasty;" and CousinJANE expresses herself to the same effect, remarking also as she lookssignificantly towards me, that it is late, and that I am not keepingRoyat hours. I promise to come away in ten minutes. PULLER is in thehighest possible spirits: surrounded by this company, all drinking hisdrinks, he as it were takes the chair and presides. He knocks on thetable, which brings the waiter, to whom he says, holding up a coupleof fingers "Two with you, "--whereat the waiter only smiles upon theeccentric Englishman, shakes his head, and wisely retires. "Ah, Miladi, " says PULLER, "you must take a course of ROBERTS. He's arum 'un. " Then he sings, "He's all right when you know him, but you'vegot to hear him _fust_. " His guests politely smile, all except the Countess. I preserve adiscreet silence. Taking this on the whole for encouragement, PULLERcommences the song from which he has already quoted the chorus. Whatthe words are I do not catch, but as PULLER reproduces to the life thestyle and manner of a London Music-Hall singer, and cocks his hat onone side, it is no wonder that the French people at the other tableturn towards us in amazement. "For goodness sake, MR. PULLER!" cries the Countess, rising from herchair in consternation. JANE also rises, Miss CASANOVA is laughingnervously. The METTERBRUNS look utterly astonished. I feel I must stopthis at once. "My dear fellow, " I say, magisterially, "you really mustn't dothis sort of thing"--he is breaking out again with "_O what asurprise!_"--but I get up from my seat to reprove him gravely. "Youwould not do this if you were in a London Restaurant. " "No, " he replies, not in the least offended--"that's the lark of it. I belong to 'The Out-for-a-lark-and-Two-with-you Society. ' Don't youmind me, " he adds; then turning with a pleasant wink to the ladies, who have been putting on their wraps and mantles, and are preparing toleave, he sings again, -- "I'm all right when you know me-- But----" We leave him to finish the song by himself. And to think that my friend PULLER, with his hat cocked on one side, a big cigar in his mouth, a tumbler of "absinthe gummy" before him, arakish expression in his eye, is the same PULLER to whom, as partnerin the firm of HORLER, PULLER, PULLER (J), BAKER AND DAYVILLE, Solicitors, I would trust my dearest interests in any matter ofproperty, of character, even of life itself! The strange story of_Hyde_ and _Jekyll_ is no fiction, after all. * * * * * WHITMAN IN LONDON. (_Adapted from the American. _) Oh, site of Coldbath Fields Prison! Oh, eight and three-quarter acres of potential Park for the plebs! I gaze at you; I, WALT, gaze at you through cracks in the black hoarding, Though the helmeted blue-coated Bobby dilates to me on the advantages of moving on. I marvel at the stupidity of Authorities everywhere. I stand and inhale a playground which in a week or two will be turned into a Post Office by Government orders! Instead of plants growing here, bricks will be planted. Instead of girlhood, boyhood playing here, cash will be counted, stamps will be affixed (savagely) by the public, and letters weighed when the young women have time, and also inclination, to do so. I, from the wild Western Continent, wilder myself, weep for this Park soon to be devoured. I am like a buck-jumper: I buck at it. I am like the Giant Cowboy: only I am not gigantic, and I am cowed by it. Oh, Northerly end of Farringdon Street! Oh, Coldbath Fields Square! Oh, dwellers in all the adjacent slums and rookeries, redolent of old clothes' shops, swarthy Italian organ-grinders, and the superannuated herring, Are you going to see another House of Correction--a Postal one--built where the old one stood? If so, it is _I_ who correct you: I, who am so correct myself! [Illustration: A Salt and Battery. ] And you, too, Clerkenwell Gaol! What are the dodrotted Authorities going to do with _you_? Eh? Clear you away, and build a Board School there? But why build anything? Clerkenwell is mine: I am _à propos_ of Clerkenwell: Clerkenwell is _à propos_ of me. Morally, if not legally, it is mine; morally it is yours as well, you wizened, pallid, blue-nosed, dunderheaded Metropolitan Citizen! In this jungle of houses, what is wanted is fresh air. Everyone of you toilers should be given the real "Freedom of the City, " by having free spaces bestowed on you. It is better to learn how to expand the limbs, and play rounders, and leap over the frog, and fly kites, Than to acquire in a school-room elementary education, consisting of algebra and Assyrian hieroglyphics, spelling, Greek, Italian, and advanced trigonometry. _Allons_, then! _Esperanza!_ Also _cui bono!_ Go to your Home Secretary, your Postmaster in General, and tell them that no Post Office or School shall be built on this spot, Because I, WALT, hailing hoarsely from Manhattan, have spotted it, And _Punch_, the lustrous _camerado_, the ineffable dispensator, will spot it too! * * * * * [Illustration: COMPENSATION. _Effie. _ "BUT, DEAR MAMMA, HOW CAN WE _HELP_ BEING SELFISH, MAUD ANDI? YOU AND PAPA HAVE ALWAYS GIVEN WAY TO US IN EVERYTHING! UNSELFISHPARENTS ALWAYS MAKE SELFISH CHILDREN, YOU KNOW--AND _VICE VERSA!_" _Maud. _ "YES; AND, ACCORDING TO THAT, MUMMY DARLING, JUST THINK WHATNICE _UN_SELFISH _GRAND_CHILDREN YOU'LL HAVE, IF WE EVER MARRY!"] * * * * * JUPITER TONANS! "Shall I fetch your thunderbolt, Jove?" inquired Ganymede. --_Ixion in Heaven. _ _Modern Jupiter loquitur:--_ A bolt, a potent one, and brought at need! That B-LF-R is a ready Ganymede. And yet--and yet--ah, well, upon my soul, A troublous function is the Thunderer's _rôle_. 'Tis vastly fine, of course; if fate would smile, I fancy that the Cloud-Compeller's style Would suit me sweetly; just the line I love; Resolute rule's the appanage of a Jove. But SHELLEY's dismal Demogorgon's self, That solemn, shadowy, stern, oracular elf, Plus obstinate Prometheus, did not play Such mischief as the parties do to-day, With Law and Order. Who would be a god When force forsakes his bolt, and fear his nod? Yes, here's the bolt forged ready to my hand, But, --will it fly obedient to command, And hit the mark I mean? Would I were sure; Then should I hold my new-found seat secure, Without a thought of Saturn, or that Hour Which sets a term e'en to Olympian pow'r. But what if like a boomerang, it fly Back to my hand, or, worse, into mine eye? Ah, Ganymede, Jupiter Tonans seems A splendid part, in young ambition's dreams, But, Ganymede, who would aspire, I wonder, To be a Jove who's half afraid to thunder? With doubts about the handling of my bolt, And half Olympus in half-veiled revolt; With hostile Titans mustering on the plain, And old Prometheus "popping up again"; With Demogorgon lurking down below, Disguised as Demos, with its muffled, low, But multitudinous slowly-swelling voice, How should I in Olympian power rejoice? I grasp the bolt; I cannot well refuse it; But--I half hope I may not have to use it! * * * * * "HOMES IN THE HILLS. " [The absence of skilled nursing in the British Military Hospitals in India having long been felt to be a serious evil, leading to the needless sacrifice of brave and valuable lives, the SECRETARY of STATE has sanctioned the employment of Lady Nurses in these hospitals. The Government of India have undertaken the whole cost in connection with this scheme, except the provision of "Homes in the Hills, " as restorative resorts for the Nursing Sisters, when their own health feels the strain of their arduous duties in such a climate as that of the plains of India. The money required for this most essential purpose the Government consider might be "appropriately left to the active benevolence of private individuals interested in the welfare of the British Soldier in India. " For aid towards the establishment of these "Homes in the Hills, " Lady ROBERTS, wife of the gallant Indian hero, Sir FREDERICK ROBERTS, makes an appeal which _Mr. Punch_ desires most earnestly to second. Subscriptions will be received by the Alliance Bank, Simla; Messrs. Cox & Co. , Craig's Court, London; and by Lady ROBERTS herself. ] To nurse our stricken Soldiers! Nobler task, Or more ennobling, can our Sisters ask? Whilst stout hearts suffer, soft ones shall not fail In selfless readiness to soothe and save, Sharing the tribute rendered by the brave To FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE. Her sex's strong and sweet exemplar, she Must surely send across the orient sea To "NORA ROBERTS, " as a kindred heart, Message of warm good-will. And we at home For whom our soldiers fight, and watch, and roam, Shall we not do our part? 'Tis sad to think that in that burning land, For lack of ministry from woman's hand, Strong men and gallant boys have sunk and died. Gladdening to hear that Nursing Sisters now, To cool hot lips and ease pain-fevered brow, Will seek our Soldiers' side. But who shall nurse the Nurses? When the strain Of ministry on India's torrid plain Brings the fatigue that, long-neglected, kills, They'll need, as health-resorts whereto to send, For rest restorative, the soldiers' friend, Homes in the cooler hills. For these the Lady of our gallant Chief, Whose brilliant march brought Candahar relief, Pleads to a public whom that honoured name Alone should stir to sympathy and aid. Help for the Helpers! _Punch_ is not afraid _That_ plea will miss its aim! * * * * * [Illustration: JUPITER TONANS! "HA!--A POWERFUL WEAPON!--HOPE I MAYN'T HAVE TO USE IT!!"] * * * * * HOLIDAY HINTS. (_From Crowded-out Correspondents. _) SIR, --The plan of your Correspondent, "A DOUBTFUL SAILOR, " who allegesthat he avoids sea-sickness by drinking two bottles of Champagnebefore starting, and then goes on board accompanied by his FamilyDoctor, who administers alternately nitrous oxide gas and ginger beerto him every ten minutes till the passage is over, though no doubtan efficacious preventive, strikes me as less simple than the meansI invariably employ to secure a comfortable crossing. They are easilyavailable, and are as follows. Before I start I provide myself with asix-foot mattrass, several yards of rope, and four screw-hooks, which, the moment I enter the cabin, I proceed with a large gimlet to fastento the ceiling, and, before the Steward or passengers have had timeto protest, I have rigged myself up a capital swinging bed in the verycentre of the vessel. To jump in, occupy it, and keep officials atbay with an umbrella, only needs a little nerve and practice, and whenonce fairly out of port, specially if it be rough, one is not veryeasily dislodged. In the course of thirteen passages, I have only beenoverturned eleven times, in nine of which I was cut down by order ofthe Captain; and though on several occasions, through clinging to theswinging-lamp, I brought it down in the struggle, and had to pay forthe damage, I can confidently recommend any one who has a horror ofthe Channel crossing, and does not mind a brisk physical encounterwith three Stewards, the First Mate, and half the crew of one of theFolkestone and Boulogne boats, to follow my example. I am, Sir, your obedient servant, ABAFT THE FUNNEL. SIR, --"ONE WHO HASN'T YET DONE IT, " wants to know how, travelling withonly one ticket, he can secure an entire third-class compartment forthe whole journey to himself. I will tell him. Let him install himselfin his quarters taking with him five full life-sized lay-figuresdressed in old great-coats with hats pulled down over their ears andeyes, and let him arrange these picturesquely about the carriage inattitudes indicative of the suffering of much internal torture. Thenlet him stand at the window with a genial and good-humoured expressionon his face, and pointing over his shoulder to the scene behind him, explain briefly to any passengers who are thinking of entering, thathe is travelling with "five aged uncles in the last stage of deliriumfrom a contagious and infectious fever, " and he will find they willinstantly desist from their efforts and hurry to another portion ofthe train. To carry out this little _ruse_ successfully it may besometimes necessary to wink at the ticket-collector and give himthreepence, but this does not follow as a matter of course. The planwill be found to work excellently on comparatively short excursionsto the sea-side, during which people sent in search of health arenecessarily anxious to avoid anything approaching to the risk ofcontagion. For longer distances, such as a journey to the North forinstance, there is nothing like travelling with an Indian Chief, andif possible, with a hyæna. The appearance of the former in gleamingpaint and feathers brandishing a tomahawk and uttering wild war-whoopsat every station, will be sure to prevent the intrusion of women withbabies, while even a country farmer, on seeing the hyæna emerge fromunder the seat, and on your remarking smilingly, "He isn't muzzled, but I don't think he'll bite, " will be likely to select some othercompartment. I have travelled from King's Cross to Inverness severaltimes under the above conditions, and except on one occasion at Perth, where the hyæna got loose and eat thirteen half-crownbreakfasts, for which I had to pay, and on one other at Edinburgh, when the Indian Chief scalped a ticket-collector by mistake, I havenever met with any sort of _contretemps_, but enjoyed the journey incomfort, and kept the carriage the whole way entirely to myself. Atthis season of the year when so many who are off "for the grouse, "think twice before putting their hands into their pockets for theexorbitant fare of a journey first-class, my method of securing allits comfort at half the cost, may possibly find some votaries willingto profit by my experience. Such as it is, it is thus freely placed attheir disposal. By yours inventively, THERE AND BACK. SIR, --Your Correspondent, a "STIFLED INVALID, " wants to know how, inthese days of ill-drained and ill-ventilated lodgings, he can securea breath of fresh sea-air without the risk of being prostrated by alocal fever, or poisoned by sewer gas. His course is simple enough. Hehas only to do as I have done. Let him get a furniture-van (if he is amarried man with a family, he will want more--I have five), and hirea traction-engine to drag him to some well-known watering-place, anddeposit him on the Pier. I have tried the experiment, as yet, with every prospect of success. Here am I, with my five vans, wellinstalled at the end of the Pier of a well-known fashionable healthresort, the band playing twice a day, with the fresh air blowing allabout me, and the sea surrounding me on every side. We managed to geton when the man who takes the tickets was away having his dinner. Thesituation is quite delightful, and but for the fact that all the localAuthorities have commenced proceedings against me, and that therewas a slight riot last night during an ineffectual attempt made bysix-and-thirty cart-horses to move me on to the Marine Parade, I haveevery reason to be satisfied with the result of my experiment. I amliving rent free, and, beyond the cost of a family ticket for thePier, which, though it is disputed by the Committee, I insist givesme a right to have my vans on as well, have, as yet, been put to noexpense whatever. There was a report that the Local Fire Brigade hadresolved, in the event of my not moving off, to force me to do soby "pumping" me out, but I am loth to believe this. Meantime weare having some excellent fishing with a lawn-tennis net. Thetraction-engine is to call for me in a month. Strongly recommending my"Plan of Campaign" to a "STIFLED INVALID, " I beg to subscribe myself, your obedient servant, NO LAND LUBBER. * * * * * THE NOVEL-READER'S VADE MECUM. _Question. _ I believe you are a very rapid reader of fiction? _Answer. _ Certainly. My average rate is three and a half volumes aday. This gives me plenty of time for meals, sleep and skipping. [Illustration: Through Booking, First-Class and otherwise. ] _Q. _ Do you skip a great deal? _A. _ A very great deal. For instance, I have skipped about two-thirdsof _Isa_, by the Editor of the _North-Eastern Daily Gazette_, inspite of it being only in a couple of volumes, and containing for anintroduction the following rather lengthy sentence:--"If the devilwere in a laughing mood, what could seem more grimly humorous to himthan the vision of a fair young spirit striving consciously afterethereal perfection, but overweighted unconsciously by the bonds andfetters of human infirmity and passion, and dragged at last headlongdown the abysmal descent to perdition?" "Abysmal" is good--very good. _Q. _ Well, and what of the book itself? _A. _ Chiefly horrors. Nightmare after a pork-chop supper I fancy. _Nelly Jocelyn_ (_Widow_), is a welcome contrast. One of the bestthings Miss JEAN MIDDLEMASS has done. The character of _Paul Cazalet_capitally drawn and foreign local colouring admirable. _Q. _ What do you think of _His Own Enemy_? _A. _ Fancy the title somehow must refer to the Author. Clericalsketches full of unconscious humour. Two volumes but _very_ big ones. Quite a relief to get to _A False Start_, --by HAWLEY SMART, which ismost entertaining. But in this case the name of the Author is a safeguarantee for something worth reading. _Q. _ What do you think of _A Modern Circe_? _A. _ I fancy it is not quite so good as _Molly Brown_, by the sameAuthor. _Q. _ What do you know of _Molly Brown_? _A. _ Nothing--I have not read it. _Q. _ What have you to say about _Scamp_? _A. _ That it is by the Author of _The Silent Shadow_, which I fancymust be the sequel of another novel called _The Garrulous Ghost_. Inthe first chapter the heroine _Scamp_, (a young lady) is discovered upa tree from which coign of vantage she throws a yellow-paper-coverednovel at the gardener's head. _Q. _ The first chapter then must be vastly entertaining? _A. _ Vastly. I am absolutely dying to read the chapters that followit, and will--some day. _Q. _ What is _Brother or Lover_ about? _A. _ I don't know--do you? _Q. _ This is trifling! Pray describe _Out of Tune_. _A. _ Ought to have been called _Out of Paganini_--founded upon thatdistinguished fiddler's life, although (as the Author says) "it isnecessarily speculative as to its details. " _Q. _ Have you read _In the King's Service_? _A. _ Some of it. Fancy it deals with the Peninsular War. _Q. _ How about _Jill and Jack_? _A. _ Book I imagine written before the title. Rather hard work to getup the hill which ends with the last chapter. _Q. _ What is _Hidden in my Heart_? _A. _ Seemingly the words which finish the third volume, "It istwo years now since _Hubert_ died, and to-morrow is my secondwedding-day. " _Q. _ Is this the first novel that the Authoress has written? _A. _ Oh dear no. She has also published _Out of Eden_, _Quite True_, and a book which apparently refers to the late-in-life "finishing" ofan uneducated ecclesiastic called _The Vicar's Governess_. _Q. _ Don't you think that you are rather hard upon the novelists? _A. _ I hope not. I am sure I owe them a deep, deep debt of gratitude. _Q. _ How so? _A. _ Without them I should be a victim to insomnia. * * * * * [Illustration: A REMINISCENCE OF THE VERY DRY WEATHER. _Secretary to Water-Works. _ "TUT-T-T-T. 'GETTING VERY SERIOUS, Y'KNOW!IF THIS DROUGHT CONTINUES, I DON'T KNOW WHAT WE----" _Friend. _ "LOOK HERE, --CAN'T YOU TURN ON SOME WHISKEY IN THE SERVICE?MY DEAR FELLOW, IT WOULD INFALLIBLY PREVENT WASTE!"] * * * * * THE WHISTLING RELIEF. (_A Song for the Sleepy. _) "Baron H. DE WORMS informed Mr. LAWSON, that the Board of Trade had communicated with some of the Railway Companies as to the nuisance caused to the inhabitants of the Metropolis by the constant use of railway whistles at night, and the Board were assured that every effort would be made to reduce the nuisance. "--_Parliamentary Report. _ AIR--"_The Whistlin' Thief. _" When one is tired or ill, And fain asleep would be, A whistle loud and shrill Oft brings the "big, big D. " "DE WORMS, " young LAWSON said, "This whistling is a bore. " "All right, " says the Baron; "don't you be afraid. They'll whistle at night no more. " "I've lived a long time, Baron, " Says _Punch_, "in the world, my dear, But of a nuisance settled _at once_, I never yet did hear. Yet if you'll lessen nocturnal shines, And let us sleep or think, Your jolly good health all the commonwealth In a bumper deep will drink. " * * * * * ECCENTRIC CONDUCT OF A JOURNALIST ON THE SPREE. --The Editor of theBerlin _Echo_ has offered a prize for the best Poem in praise of theMother-in-Law. This singular demand proves that the gentleman cannotbe married. * * * * * CHANGE OF NAME. If thus Penny Papers are freely allowed To fling right and left their absurd imputations, To find a new name for the quill-driving crowd Will surely be one of our first obligations. The Penny-a-Liner for long has been known As a genial gusher, a fine phrase-refiner; But now that he false and malignant has grown, We must call him "The Penny Maligner. " * * * * * THE FLY AND THE FARMERS. "The Hessian Fly is causing great alarm amongst the agriculturists. Its extinction is attracting the attention of the Faculty. "--_Daily Paper. _ [Illustration: Catching Perch with a Fly. ] Now we number the Potato Beetle 'mong the scares gone by; But a cuss has found its way to Fields of corn--the Hessian Fly. _Unde derivatur_ "Hessian"? Named from whence the fly had flown, Under quite a wrong impression, No such thing in Hesse's known. _Cecidomyia destructor_, (What long names have little things!) Comes o'er Ocean by conductor; Straw, pestiferous, _pupæ_, brings. They turn, each, into a small gnat, Not a blow-fly, bottle-blue; _Cecidomyia_, _vulgò_, gall-gnat, Galls both growths and growers too. So the Farmers, full of trouble, Help imploring go about, They are told to burn the stubble; No way else to stamp it out. True the _Chalcis_ is reputed, On the Gall-gnat's grub to feed; But, for service to be suited, How that parasite can they breed? Yet there is a vermin-killer, Like to thin the dipterous pest, To the farmer and the miller, Which instruction may suggest. What may be, the question narrows, If they doubt they can but try, Is, if let alone, the sparrows Might keep down the Hessian Fly. * * * * * BLESS HIS 'ART. --If there is anything in a name, the recentlysuggested appointment of _Artin Effendi_ as Turkish Commissionerat Sofia ought to mean something. Certainly the situation is onedemanding the exercise of no little diplomatic art. But the questionis, whether the proposed Commissioner has got, as ROBERT would put it, his _art in_ the business. There's the point. * * * * * A PRETTY KETTLE OF FISH. --The Riots at Ostend. * * * * * THE SIGH OF THE SEASON. [Illustration: Pilled at the Club. ] Good-bye dinner, good-bye lunch, Good-bye turtle, good-bye punch, Good-bye jambon soaked in cham. , Good-bye venison, cutlets lamb, Good-bye salmon, smelts, and sole, Good-bye HEIDSIECK'S Monopole, Good-bye hock, sauterne, and sherry, Good-bye all that makes me merry, Good-bye liqueurs, _petite verre_, Good-bye Sauce _au Vin Madère_, Good-bye all these joys of life, Good-bye fork, and good-bye knife, Good-bye all I take when out, Good-bye _then_ this twinge of gout! * * * * * WORTH NOTICE. --There is this slight difference between theconventional Yankee and the average Home Ruler, that whilst the formerswears "by Gum, " the latter swears by G. O. M. * * * * * "THE STORY OF A KISS. "--(_A "Novel" Reading. _)--Kiss and tell! Forshame! * * * * * INTERIORS AND EXTERIORS. No. 51. [Illustration: THE LATE PARLIAMENTARY HARVEST. (_Facsimile of Sketch by Our Out-of-Town Special. _)] * * * * * ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT. EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M. P. _House of Commons, Monday August 22. _--Peers at last face theinevitable. As records have shown there has been for week or two nowork for them to do. Still, they have eased their tender consciencesby assembling to see HALSBURY take the Woolsack. (Always a pleasingspectacle. Innate grace of LORD CHANCELLOR comes out in every step andgesture. ) To-night there was, as usual, nothing to do; but NobleLords really could not again make believe that Nation could not geton without them. So stayed away, and for one night House of Lordsabolished. In Commons at hour for commencing public business barely a quorumpresent. Both Front Bench and Treasury Bench vacant. GEORGE BALFOUR, always ready to throw himself into breach, took possession of seat ofLeader of Opposition, and calmly gazed across table. Never should itbe said as long as he had seat in House that Liberals were as sheepwithout a shepherd. Few Members on back benches visibly brightened upat sight of veteran volunteer. Only a few questions, but unwonted difficulty in getting through them. Some cases the questioner not present. In others Minister addressednot yet arrived. MCARTHUR had question down pretty early in list. SPEAKER called upon him. No response. Went on to next question. Quarter of an hour later, all other questions run through. MCARTHURcoming in put his question to Parliamentary Secretary for ForeignAffairs. FERGUSSON, who had also just arrived, supposing that MCARTHURhad put question in due course, apologised to him for not having beenin his place; whereat House laughed uproariously. Very grateful inthese times for anything that looks like joke. P. STANHOPE brought under notice of Home Secretary case ofenterprising parish constable in North Hunts. P. C. , a supporter of HerMajesty's Government, resented Liberal candidate presenting himselfbefore constituency. Determined he should not be heard. Brought downenormous rattle; swung it about throughout candidate's speech. JOSEPHGILLIS pricked up his ears. What a notion this would be for adaptationto Parliamentary usage! Suppose he had rattle and swung it whilstSAUNDERSON or JOHNSTON were speaking? Will consult SPEAKER as to howfar this would be in order. HOME SECRETARY declined to be responsiblefor either parish constable or his rattle. _Business done. _--Votes on Supply. _Tuesday. _--Lords sat ten minutes to-night. Home to dinner, with senseof deserving well of country. Commons at work again in Supply. Considered Vote for Science and ArtDepartment, South Kensington. CAVENDISH-BENTINCK contributed one ortwo speeches of great interest. Thin attendance, and prevalent airof lassitude. But, whilst on legs, C. -B. Riveted attention. Veryindignant with neglect of Art in common life. Old Members accustomedto Right Hon. Gentleman's little trick, of which he is solerepository. But new Members tremble, and grow pale, as, whendenouncing any person or practice, Right Hon. Gentleman mysteriouslyraises his hair till it stands on end. Once this phenomenon cameabout when he denounced certain weighing-machines, which, he said, hadrecently been put up at London railway stations. Tops of this machine, he said, were supported by two columns, one supposed to be Ionic, andthe other Doric. "As matter of fact, " said C. -B. , his hair slowly uprising, "they'reneither one thing nor the other, but simply German!" As he spoke, fixed fiery eye on HOME SECRETARY. MATTHEWS, soaccustomed to be badgered, and feeling his perfect innocence in thisrespect, shook his head. Phenomenon witnessed again when BENTINCKdiscovered that picture, bought at CHRISTIE'S for 120 guineas, subsequently sold to National Gallery for 400. Hair rose in angryprotest. _Business done. _--Thirteen Votes passed. _Thursday. _--Dreary wilderness of House of Commons blossomed to-nightlike a rose-garden. Yesterday, and for days before, empty benches anda fagged remnant wrestling with routine votes. To-night House crowded, and buzz of excitement filled chamber. GLADSTONE going to move hostileResolution on Government proposal to proclaim Land League. EveryMember in town early in his place. Members from afar arrived posthaste. Even RANDOLPH, temporarily returns. Old Morality smiles ghastlysmile of welcome, but knees tremble as he wonders what RANDOLPH meansto do. The O'GORMAN MAHON back again, PARNELL having elected him forCarlow County. The old boy as young as ever, and full of reminiscencesof his early Parliamentary career, which goes back immeasurabledistance. "Ah, " he said, looking at the Mace, "there it is agin. I remimber wellthe afternoon--we always sat in the afternoon thin--when CROMWELL camedown, and said, 'Take away that bauble, ye spalpeens, or I'll make itworse for ye. ' I was younger then, TOBY me bhoy, indade quite a youngman. " Old boy's limp is, I fancy, getting better. He has suffered it forsome years now. Seems that one day towards the close of last centuryBURKE flung dagger on floor of House by way of peroration. Weaponrebounded, and struck The MAHON on the instep. If you step into thelavatory with him, he'll show you the scar. "A mere thrifle, a mere thrifle, acushla! They were lively bhoys whenI was in me proime. " GLADSTONE in fine form and excellent voice. Honoured occasion bydonning one of his biggest collars and a new necktie. Curious proof ofhis persuasiveness how he gradually talked his necktie round till knotrested under left ear. BALFOUR squealed forth his disapprobation forupwards of an hour. Rather a pitiful spectacle, the more so by reasonof the contrast. "He should try to avoid immediately following GLADSTONE, " saidRANDOLPH, looking down contemptuously at his former friend. [Illustration: C. Br-dl-gh. ] Best speeches after first, _longo intervallo_, were BRADLAUGH'Sand ROBERTSON'S, the Scotch Solicitor-General. Conservatives quiteforgotten their old animosity to Member for Northampton. As forParnellites, cheer him madly as they do PARNELL. Certainly BRADLAUGHhas acquired House of Commons' manner. Speeches in good style and fullof point. Quite a treat to hear such speech as ROBERTSON'S from Treasury Bench. Mem. For Markiss. Why not double his salary, and let him speak fromMATTHEWS'S brief, and, above all, from BALFOUR'S? _Business done. _--Debate on Proclamation of National League. _Friday. _--Amphibious old Warrior, who has been Admiral afloat, Generalissimo ashore, and is now Member for County Carlow, reappearedto-night, and took oath. It was a moving scene. Old veteran got up inrather young-looking costume, light tweed, with white waistcoat, incut what young beau of twenty might wear. "Why, Colonel, " said CYRIL FLOWER, a judge of these things, "you lookyounger than ever in your new suit!" "New, bedad, " says The MAHON, "why I had 'em made to go to the weddingof WILLIAM and MARY. All Mimbers of Parliament invoited; special seatsin Abbey; and, what's more, a good luncheon at BELLAMY'S. Haven't wornsuit lately; thought it would do for this festive occasion. " The MAHON'S advance to table to take oath a triumphal progress. Members on both sides cheered like mad. The Colonel stopped half way, and, facing friends and countrymen, blew them a kiss from tips offingers. Turning to Ministerialists, who joined in applause hebowed gracefully. Clerks had greatest difficulty in convoying himto SPEAKER'S Chair. Broke away from escort, and shook hands with OldMorality. No joke when The MAHON shakes hands. Pumps away violentlyfor several moments, as if ship were leaking, and all depended on him. Next got hold of BALFOUR, and avenged long woes of Ireland. At lastgot at SPEAKER. Thought he'd never let go. Pumped away till theSPEAKER had hardly breath to call "Order! order!" Finally floppedhimself down next to GLADSTONE, on Front Bench, and gave him fearfulshaking up. This, liveliest episode in debate. Some pretty good speaking, buteveryone sick to death of topic. [Illustration: Lord H-rt-ngt-n's attitude towards Mr. Gl-dst-ne. ] A little movement of interest when HARTINGTON rose; but happiestmoment when bell rang, and Division actually at hand. Businessdone. --Proclamation of Land League approved. * * * * * A SUMMER SOLILOQUY. _By Jaques Junior. _ A bee, or not a bee? That is the question. Whether 'twere better not to mind, and suffer The stings that every summer are our portion, Or take the trouble but to move an arm, And, by opposing, end them. It flies--it creeps, It creeps, perchance it stings! Then comes the rub, When we have shuffled off our clothing. Soft, 'Twas but a bluebottle! How sweet it is To lie like this i' the sun, and think of nought Save how sweet 'tis to lie, and think of nought; And that meseems to many wordy sages Were small refreshment in this windy time. How many are there who do cheat themselves, And with themselves the many, that they are The very vaward leaders of the fray, The lictors of the pomp of intellect. Whereas they are the merest driven spray, The running rabble heralding the march Impelled by what they herald;-- Who ever glance behind to see which way---- Oh, my prophetick soul! my Aunt ELIZA! [_He is stung_! * * * * * IRISH NET PROFIT. In connection with the establishment, thanks chiefly to themunificence of Lady BURDETT-COUTTS and the Duke of NORFOLK, atBaltimore (Cork) of a New Industrial Fishery School to the end ofteaching the fishermen there how to make the most of their hauls, the _Times_, as one example of the need of that instruction for thosetoilers of the Sea, very justly observes that "their ignorance of theart of curing fish causes them endless loss. " The hap of Kill or Curemay be hazarded by physicians, but the practice of fishermen shouldbe to kill and cure too--kill first and cure afterwards. Sure, noIrishman can fail to see the force of that. An Irish peasant sometimeswhen his pig is poorly, kills the animal, as he says, to save itslife, whereby, of course, he means, to save his bacon. Fishermenshould be up to curing all fish that are curable--except--they are notbootmakers--the cure of soles! [Illustration: "Putting the Carte before the Hoarse. "] * * * * * --> NOTICE. --Rejected Communications or Contributions, whether MS. , Printed Matter, Drawings, or Pictures of any description, will in nocase be returned, not even when accompanied by a Stamped and AddressedEnvelope, Cover, or Wrapper. To this rule there will be no exception. * * * * * Transcriber's Note: Missing and illegible/damaged punctuation has been repaired. Page 100: 'delighful' corrected to 'delightful'. [Miss LOUISAMETTERBRUN said something delightful to him the other day at dinner. ] Page 105: repeated 'if' corrected to 'it'. [. . . Specially if it be rough, ] Page 105: eat [sic] . . . Where the hyæna got loose and eat thirteenhalf-crown breakfasts. . . . . . As it was a letter from a reader, 'eat' may have been hismanner of speech; therefore, I have left it as such.