PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. VOL. 100. January 24, 1891. MR. PUNCH'S PRIZE NOVELS. NO. XII. --THE MATE OF THE MARLINSPIKE. (_BY SHARK MUSSELL; AUTHOR OF "ERECT WITH A STOVE IN HER, " "MY GYPMADE TO WHEEZE, " "THE ROMANCE OF A PENNY PARLOUR, " "A HOOK FOR THEBANNOCK, " "FOUND THE GAL ON FIRE, " "THE MYSTERY OF THE LOTION JAR, ""THE JOKES O' LEAD, " &C. , &C. , &C. _) ["Here you are, my hearty, " writes the Author, "this is a regular briny ocean story, all storms and thunderclaps and sails and rigging and soaring masts and bellying sails. How about 'avast heaving' and 'shiver my timbers, ' and 'son of a sea-cook, ' and all that? No, thank you; that kind of thing's played out. MARRYAT was all very well _in his day_, but that day's gone. The public requires stories about merchant ships, and, by Neptune, the public shall have them, with all kinds of hairy villains and tempest-tossed wrecks and human interest and no end of humour, likewise word-pictures of ships and storms. That's me. So clear the decks, and here goes. "] CHAPTER I. We were in mid-ocean. Over the vast expanses of the oily sea no ripplewas to be seen although Captain BABBIJAM kept his binoculars levelledat the silent horizon for three-quarters of an hour by the saloonclock. Far away in the murky distance of the mysterious empyrean, asingle star flashed with a weird brilliance down upon the death-likestillness of the immemorial ocean. Yet the good old _Marlinspike_was rolling from side to side and rising and falling as if the liquidexpanse were stirred by the rush of a tempest instead of lying asmotionless as a country congregation during the rector's sermon. Suddenly Captain BABBIJAM closed his binoculars with an angry snap, and turned to me. His face showed of a dark purple under his whitecotton night-cap. [Illustration] "The silly old ship, " he muttered, half to himself and half to me, "istrying to make heavy weather of it; but I'll be even with her. I'll beeven with her. " "You'll find it a very _odd_ thing to do, " I said to him, jocosely. He sprang at me like a seahorse, and reared himself to his full heightbefore me. "Come, Mr. TUGLEY, " he continued, speaking in a low, meaning voice, "can you take a star?" "Sometimes, " I answered, humouring his strange fancy; "but there'sonly one about, and it seems a deuce of a long way off--however, I'lltry;" and, with that, I reached my arm up in the direction of thesolitary planet, which lay in the vast obscure like a small silvercandlestick, with a greenish tinge in its icy sparkling, mirrored farbelow in the indigo flood of the abysmal sea, while a grey scud camesweeping up, no one quite knew whence, and hung about the glossy faceof the silent luminary like the shreds of a wedding veil, scatteredby a honey-moon quarrel across the deep spaces far beyond the hairycoamings of the booby-hatch. "Fool!" said the Captain, softly, "I don't mean that. If you can'ttake a star, can you keep a watch?" "Well, as to that, Captain, " said I, half shocked and half amused athis strange questionings, "I never take my own out in a crowd. It'sone of DENT's best, given me by my aunt, and I've had it for nighupon--" But the Captain had left me, and was at that moment engaged on hisafter-supper occupation of jockeying a lee yard-arm, while the firstmate, Mr. SOWSTER, was doing his best to keep up with his roughcommanding officer by dangling to windward on the flemish horse, which, as it was touched in the wind and gone in the forelegs, stumbled violently over the buttery hatchway and hurled itsventuresome rider into the hold. CHAPTER II. On the following morning we were all sitting in the palatial saloon ofthe _Marlinspike_. We were all there, all the characters, that is tosay, necessary for the completion of a first class three-volume oceannovel. On my right sat the cayenne-peppery Indian Colonel, a smallman with a fierce face and a tight collar, who roars like a bull andsays, "Zounds, Sir, " on the slightest provocation. Opposite to himwas his wife, a Roman-nosed lady, with an imperious manner, and aColonel-subduing way of curling her lip. On my left was the funny man. As usual he was of a sea-green colour, and might be expected at anymoment to stagger to a porthole and call faintly for the steward. Further down the table sat two young nincompoops, brought on boardspecially in order that they might fulfil their destiny, and fillout my story, by falling in love with the fluffy-haired English girlwho was sitting between them, and pouting equally and simultaneouslyat both. There was also the stout German who talks about "de sturmund der vafes. " And beside him was the statuesque English beauty, whose eyes are of the rich blackness of the tropic sky, whose voicehas a large assortment of sudden notes of haughtiness, while thestudied insolence of her manner first freezes her victims and thenincontinently and inconsistently scorches them. Eventually her proudspirit will be tamed, probably by a storm, or a ship-wreck, or byten days in an open boat. I shall then secure your love, my peerlessARAMINTA, and you will marry me and turn out as soft and gentle asthe moss-rose which now nestles in your raven tresses. The Colonel wasspeaking. "Zounds, Sir!" he was saying. "I don't know what you mean by effects. All mine are on board. What do you say, Mr. TUGLEY?" he went on, looking at me with a look full of corkscrews and broken glass, while his choleric face showed of a purple hue under the effort ofutterance. "Well, Colonel, " I replied, in an off-hand way, so as not to irritatehim, "I keep my best effects here;" and, so saying, I produced mynote-book, and tapped it significantly. "What, for instance, do yousay to this?" But, what follows, needs another chapter. CHAPTER III. I found the place in my notebook, cleared my voice, and began. "The ship was sailing gloriously under a press of canvas. Herforetopgallant-sail swelled to its cotton-like hue out of the blackshadow of its incurving. High aloft, the swelling squares of herstudding-sails gleamed in the misty sheen of the pale luminary, flinging her frosty light from point to point of the tapering masts, which rose, rose, rose into the morning air, as though with intentto pierce the glowing orb of day, poised in the heavens like one vastball of liquid fire. Through the wind-hushed spaces of the canvas, where the foretopmaststay-sail--" "I know that foretopmaststay-sail, " said the funny man, suddenly. Iwithered him with a look, and turned over the page. "Here, " I said, "is another tip-topper. What do you think of thisfor a storm?--'The liquid acclivities were rising taller, and morethreatening. With a scream of passion the tortured ship hurled itselfat their deep-green crests. Cascades of rain, and hail, and snow, were dashing down upon her unprotected bulwarks. The inky sky was onevast thunder-clap, out of which the steely shaft of an electric flashpierced its dazzling path into the heart of the raving deep. Thescud--' "I know that scud, " said a hateful voice. But, before I couldannihilate its owner, the pale face of Mr. SPILKINGS, with hisdead-eyes turned in, dashed breathlessly into the saloon. "By allthat's holy, " he shouted, "the Captain's gone mad, and the crew havethrown off all disguise. We are manned by ourang-outangs!" CHAPTER IV. Never shall I forget the horrors of the scene that ensued. We clewedup the mizzen royal, we lashed the foretop to make it spin upon itsheels. The second dog watch barked his shins to the bone, and atail of men hauled upon the halliards to mast-head the yard. Nothingavailed. We had to be wrecked and wrecked we were, and as I claspedARAMINTA's trustful head to my breast, the pale luminary sailingthrough the angry wrack glittered in phantasmal splendour on the scudwhich-- [Here the MS. Ends unaccountably. --ED. _Punch_. ] * * * * * [Illustration: AN INTERESTED PARTY. _St. Bernard's Dog_ (_confidentially to Mr. Chaplin_). "NEVER MINDTHE OLD WOMAN; LET'S KEEP THE MUZZLE ON FOR A YEAR, AND HAVE DONE WITHIT!"] * * * * * CANINE CONFIDENCES. _Clever Dog, to the Minister of Agriculture, loquitur_-- POTTERER, put the muzzle on! Potterer, take it off again! _That_ is not the way, my friend, cruel _rabies_ to restrain. Take my tip! As to self-styled "friends of dogs, " too preposterous by half, Who object to all restraint, they deserve on seat or calf One sharp nip. It is _doggish_ interest hydrophobia to stamp out; 'Tis a curse to us canines; that no person well can doubt Who has sense. They who think we doggies share old maid's sentimental fad, Just as though it really were a dog's _privilege_ to go mad, Must be dense. Muzzles are a bore, of course, rather troublesome at times, But I'd rather have my nose made incapable of crimes, Than go free, With the chance of "going off, " giving friend or foe a bite. And be clubbed to death or shot, murdered in my master's sight, Don't suit _me_! Never mind the fussy frumps, the old women of each sex; Better raise their ready wrath than the prudent public vex With crass rules. Muzzles now and collars then, partial orders soon relaxed; Men rebel when with caprice they are tied, or teased, or taxed, Else they're fools. Keep the muzzles on a year, regularly, and _all round_, Every doggy of high breed, mongrel puppy, whelp or hound, Will give thanks To the Minister who tries hydrophobia to stamp out Once for all o'er all the land, with consistency, and without Pottering pranks! Mr. CHAPLIN, take my tip! Science speaks in the same sense, So does true philanthropy. Ought to have effect immense, What they say. Heed not that old woman there, with her spoilt and yelping pet; I for every dog of _nous_ in the country speak, you bet. Try! _Good_-day! [_Trots out, comfortably muzzled_. * * * * * MOST APPROPRIATE. --We see, from some recently-reported proceedings, that the present Inspector appointed under the Infant Life ProtectionAct is "Mr. BABEY. " * * * * * [Illustration: THE SECRETS OF LITERARY COMPOSITION. _The Fair Authoress of "Passionate Pauline, " gazing fondly at her ownreflection, writes as follows:--_ "I look into the glass, Reader. What do I see? "I see a pair of laughing, _espiègle_, forget-me-not blue eyes, saucy and defiant; a _mutine_ little rose-bud of a mouth, withits ever-mocking _moue_; a tiny shell-like ear, trying to playhide-and-seek in a tangled maze of rebellious russet gold; while, fromunderneath the satin folds of a _rose-thé_ dressing-gown, a daintyfoot peeps coyly forth in its exquisitely-pointed gold moroccoslipper, " &c. , &c. (_Vide "Passionate Pauline, " by Parbleu. _)] * * * * * A COMING MEETING. (_REPORTED FROM THE RAILWAY INTELLIGENCE OF 1892. _) The Chairman, who on opening the proceedings was received with afeeble chorus of melancholy groans, said that he feared he had nobetter Report to make to the shareholders. ("_Oh! oh!_") It istrue that he had one fact to mention, which was a matter of supremecongratulation, and he needn't say that that was that they hadn'tyielded a single inch to the men. ("_Oh! oh!" and a Voice, "Oh!we've had enough of 'that'!")_ It is also true that this firm andunflinching front had necessitated some sacrifice, and had involvedthe Company in no little difficulty. (_Prolonged groans. _) He wassorry to note these manifestations, for he had not only to announceto that meeting the non-payment of any dividend, even to the holdersof the Company's Debenture Stock, but he had further to inform them, that, owing to some difficulty in settling the account of their coalcontractors, these last had taken proceedings against them, and hadseized not only all the contents of their refreshment-rooms, but alsothe whole of their rolling-stock. (_Prolonged wailing. _) He grievedto say that the last two engines that the Company possessed, and whichthey had up to now hidden in the cloak-room at the Edinburgh terminus, were unfortunately discovered and seized last night. (_Groans. _)Still, the Company did not despair of being able to carry on, atleast, a portion of the Passenger Traffic (_Feeble laughter. _) Theymight meet the statement with a manifestation of ridicule--butsuch was the case. It was with a sense of pride in their method oftriumphing over difficulties, that he announced to the meeting, that atrain of cattle-trucks would be started for the North daily at twelveo'clock, the motive power of which would be the Directors themselves. ("_Oh! oh!")_ They could not say anything about _the pace_ at whichthe train would travel, but that, _with time_, it would do thedistance he had little, if any doubt. It is true that in a similarexperiment on a neighbouring line the train came to a dead halt in thefirst tunnel, and the passengers had to descend in the dark and gropetheir way out to the nearest station as well as they could, but thisunsatisfactory experience would in no way deter them from making theexperiment on their own behalf. (_Jeers. _) He was sorry to see thatthe ordinary stock of the Company, which, a twelvemonth since, hadtouched 128-3/8, --could not now find purchasers in the Market at7-1/2. (_Groans. _) But he hoped for better times. ("_Oh! oh!_") But, come what would, he would hold fast by his principles, which were, "_No Compromise, No Meeting Halfway, No Arbitration, No Concession!_"Men might starve, Trade collapse, the Country come to ruin, theCompany disappear in Bankruptcy, but he cared not. The Directors hadput their foot down, and, whether right or wrong, whatever happened, _there_ they meant, with a good down-right national and pig-headedobstinacy, to keep it. The Chairman was continuing in this strain, but, being interruptedby a shower of inkstands, was compelled to close his remarks, theproceedings coming to a somewhat abrupt conclusion, in a scene ofconsiderable confusion. * * * * * THE "STRAIT" TIP. Oh, Mister BLAINE, we don't complain That for your country's weal you're caring; But, clever Yankee, _Punch_ would thank 'ee Not to be quite so _over-Behring!_ * * * * * NEW VERSION. --Every dog must have his--_year_ (of muzzling). * * * * * THE GAME OF PEACE. [Illustration] _April_. --Grand informal meeting of the Crowned Heads of Europe (withthe CZAR in the chair) to discuss a scheme of general disarmament, at which the Emperor of GERMANY creates a profound sensation by theannouncement that, as a hint to his brother Monarchs, he has himselfgone on to the retired list, burnt his cocked-hat, disbanded thePomeranian Grenadiers, and confined Herr KRUPP for ten years in asecond-class fortress. _May_. --By arrangement, all the great powers call in the uniforms ofall their troops and present them to the King of the BELGIANS, on theunderstanding that, as the Emperor of the Congo, he shall forthwithtransport them to Africa, and instantly commence the clothing of sevenmillions of the naked native population. _June_. --One hundred and eighty thousand horses, with militarytraining, coming suddenly on to the market, four-in-hand Hansoms at apenny an hour, become common in all the great European capitals, andthe Derby, for which there are 1371 entries, is won by a Cossack pony, trained in Siberia. _July_. --The barrels of all the magazine rifles melted down, andrecast, utilised for the production of type-writers, which, beingproduced in large quantities, are supplied with instruction gratisto all the children attending the establishments of the London SchoolBoard, the stocks of the rifles being utilised for the manufacture ofbilliard-cues, walking-sticks, and umbrella-handles. _August_. --It being resolved to use up all the gunpowder withoutdelay, a perpetual display of fireworks is inaugurated at Vienna, St. Petersburg, Berlin, Paris, and London, the show in the last-namedcapital including a gigantic set-piece of the Fifteen Decisive Battlesof the World, which is given five times successively every evening atthe Crystal Palace for three months, Piccadilly being illuminated from6 P. M. To 3 A. M. By the continuous discharge of coloured rockets. _September_. --The last 101-ton gun having been melted down for theforging of the metal piles for one of the four newly-projected Channelbridges, a nasty international feeling, fermented by General Officerswho are obliged to sweep crossings and drive four-wheeled cabs for alivelihood, --and who do not like it, --begins to manifest itself, anddiplomacy intervening irritably only to make matters worse, severalultimatums are dispatched from some of the Great Powers to others, but owing to the want of soldiers, the matter is put into the handsof International Solicitors, who, arranging a stand-up fight for thePresident of the French Republic and the CZAR against the Emperors ofGERMANY and AUSTRIA, and the KING of ITALY, the matter somehow fallsthrough for the moment, and the public excitement subsides. _October_. --General note from all the Great Powers to each otherannouncing their secession from the "League of Peace, " and declaringtheir intention of resorting again to "_Protective Armament_" as soonas possible. War declared all round before the end of the month. * * * * * VOCES POPULI. AT THE GUELPH EXHIBITION. IN THE CENTRAL HALL. _A Thrifty Visitor_ (_on entering_). Catalogue? No. What's the useof a Catalogue? Miserable thing, the size of a tract, that tells younothing you don't know! _His Wife_ (_indicating a pile of Catalogues on table_). Aren't_these_ big enough for you? _The Thr. V. _ Those? Why, they're big enough for the _LondonDirectory_! Think I'm going to drag a thing like that about the place?You don't really want a Catalogue--it's all your fancy! _Mr. Prattler_ (_to Miss AMMERSON_). Oh, _do_ stop and look at these_sweet_ goldfish! Pets! Don't you _love_ them? _Aren't_ they tame? _Miss Ammerson_. Wouldn't do to have them _wild_--might jump out and_bite_ people, you know! _Mr. P. _ It's _too_ horrid of you to make fun of my poor littleenthusiasms! But really, --couldn't we get something and feedthem?--_Do_ let's! _Miss A. _ I daresay you could get ham-sandwiches in the Restaurant--orchocolates. _Mr. P. _ How unkind you are to me! But I don't care. (_Wilfully. _) Ishall come here all by myself, and bring biscuits. Great big ones! Areyou determined to take me into that big room with all the Portraits?Well, you must tell me who they all are then, and which are theGuelphiest ones. IN THE ROYAL ROOM. _Considerate Niece_ (_to Uncle_). They seem mostly Portraits here. You're sure you don't _mind_ looking at them, Uncle? I know so manypeople _do_ object to Portraits. _Uncle_ (_with the air of a Christian Martyr_). No, my dear, no: _I_don't mind 'em. Stay here as long as you like, I'll sit down and lookat the people, till you've done. _First Critical Visitor_ (_examining a View of St. James's Park_). I wonder where that was taken. In Scotland, I expect--there's twoHighlanders there, you see. _Second C. V. _ Shouldn't wonder--lot o' work in that, all thosedifferent colours, and so many dresses. [_Admires, thoughtfully. _ _A Well-read Woman_. That's Queen CHARLOTTE, that is. GEORGE THETHIRD's wife, you know--her that was so _domestic_. _Her Companion_. Wasn't that the one that was shut up in the Tower, orsomething? _The W. W. _ In the Tower? Lor, my dear, no, _I_ never 'eard of it. You're thinking of the TUDORS, or some o' that lot, I expect! _Her Comp. _ Am I? I daresay. I never _could_ remember 'Istry. Why, if you'll believe me, I always have to stop and think which of theGEORGES came first! _More Critical Visitors_ (_before Portraits_). He's ratherpleasant-looking, don't you think? I _don't_ like _her_ face at all. So peculiar. And what a hideous dress--like a tea-gown without anyupper part--frightful! _A Sceptical V. _ They all seem to have had such thin lips in thosedays. Somehow, I _can't_ bring myself to believe in such very thinlips--can _you_, dear? _Her Friend_. I always think it's a sign of meanness, myself. _The S. V. _ No; but I mean--I can't believe _everyone_ had them in theeighteenth century. _Her Friend_. Oh, I don't know. If it was the fashion! ABOUT THE CASES. _Visitor_ (_admiring an embroidered waistcoat of the time of GEORGETHE SECOND--a highly popular exhibit_). What lovely work! Why, itlooks as if it was done yesterday! _Her Companion_ (_who is not in the habit of allowing his enthusiasmto run away with him_). Um--yes, it's not bad. But, of course, theywouldn't send a thing like that here without having it washed and doneup first! _An Old Lady_. "Tea-pot used by the Duke of WELLINGTON during hiscampaigns. " So he drank _tea_, did he? Dear me! Do you know, my dear, I think I must have _my_ old tea-pot engraved. It will make it so muchmore interesting some day! IN THE SOUTH GALLERY. _Mr. Prattler_ (_before a Portrait of Lady HAMILTON, by ROMNEY_). There! Isn't she too charming? I do call her a perfect _duck_. ' _Miss Ammerson_. Yes, you mustn't forget her when you bring thosebiscuits. _An Amurrcan Girl_. Father, see up there; there's BYRON. Did you erversee such a purrfectly beautiful face? _Her Father_ (_solemnly_). He was a beautiful _Man_--a beautiful Poet. _The A. G. _ I know--but the _expression_, it's real saint-like! _Father_ (_slowly_). Well, I guess if he'd had any different kind ofexpression, he wouldn't have written the things he _did_ write, andthat's a fact! _A Moralising Old Lady_ (_at Case O_). No. 1260. "Ball of Worstedwound by WILLIAM COWPER, the poet, for Mrs. UNWIN. " NO. 1261. "Netting done by WILLIAM COWPER, the poet. " How very nice, and what adifference in the habit of literary persons _nowadays_, my dear! IN THE CENTRAL HALL. --_MR. WHITEROSE, A JACOBITE FIN DE SIÈCLE, ISSEATED ON A BENCH BESIDE A SEEDY STRANGER. _ _The S. S. _ (_half to himself_). Har, well, there's one comfort, these'ere GUELPHS'll get notice to quit afore we're _much_ older! _Mr. Whiterose_ (_surprised_). You say so? Then--you too are of theYoung England Party! I am rejoiced to hear it. You cheer me; it is asign that the good Cause is advancing. _The S. S. _ Advancin'? I believe yer. Why, I know a dozen and more asare workin' 'art and soul for it! _Mr. W. _ You do? We are making strides, indeed! Our England hassuffered these usurpers too long. _The S. S. _ Yer right. But we'll chuck 'em out afore long, and it'll be"Over goes the Show" with the lot, eh? _Mr. W. _ I had no idea that the--er--intelligent artisan classes wereso heartily with us. We must talk more of this. Come and see me. Bringyour friends--all you can depend upon. Here is my card. _The S. S. _ (_putting the card in the lining of his hat_). Right, Guv'nor; we'll come. I wish there was more gents like yer, I do! _Mr. W. _ We are united by a common bond. We both detest--do wenot?--the Hanoverian interlopers. We are both pledged never to restuntil we have brought back to the throne of our beloved England, her lawful sovereign lady--(_uncovering_)--our gracious MARY ofAustria-Este, the legitimate descendant of CHARLES the Blessed Martyr! _The S. S. _ 'Old on, Guv'nor! Me and my friends are with yer so furas doing away with these 'ere hidle GUELPHS; but blow yer MARY ofOrstria, yer know. Blow _'er_! _Mr. W. _ (_horrified_). Hush--this is rank treason! Remember--she isthe lineal descendant of the House of Stuart! _The S. S. _ What of it? There won't be no lineal descendants when wegit _hour_ way, 'cause there won't be nothing to descend to nobody. The honly suv'rin _we_ mean to 'ave is the People--the Democrisy. Butthere, you're young, me and my friends'll soon tork you over to hourway o' thinking. I dessay we ain't fur apart, as it is. I got yeraddress, and we'll drop in on yer some night--never fear. No hevenin'dress, o' course? _Mr. W. _ Of course. I--I'll look out for you. But I'm seldomin--hardly _ever_, in fact. _The S. S. _ Don't you fret about _that_. Me and my friends ain'tnothing partickler to do just now. We'll _wait_ for yer. I should likeyer to know ole BILL GABB. You should 'ear _that_ feller goin' on aginthe GUELPHS when he's 'ad a little booze--it 'ud do your 'art good!Well, I on'y come in 'ere as a deligate like, to report, and I seenenough. So 'ere's good-day to yer. _Mr. W. _ (_alone_). I shall have to change my rooms--and I _was_ socomfortable! Well, well, --another sacrifice to the Cause! * * * * * OUR BOOKING-OFFICE. [Illustration] There was a bronze group by POLLET among the specimens of sculpture inthe French _Salon_, some twenty years ago, --"It may be more or lessan hour or so, " as the poet sings, --representing a female form beingcarried upwards in the embrace of a rather evil-looking Angel. Itillustrated a poem by the Vicomte ALFRED DE VIGNY, which I rememberreading, in consequence of this very statue having come into mypossession (it was afterwards sold at Messrs. CHRISTIE, MANSON &WOODS, under the style and title of "Lot 121, _Elsa_"), and itoccurs to me that it was on precisely the same theme as the otherALFRED's--not the _Vicomte_ but _Mister_ ALFRED AUSTIN's--"_The Towerof Babel_, " which I have just read with much pleasure, and, with someprofit; the moral, as I take it, being favourable to the Temperancecause, as a warning against all spirits, good, bad, or indifferent. _Afrael_, the inhabitant of a distant star, falls in love with_Noema_, the wife of the atheistical Babelite _Aran_, to whom she hasborne a son, aged in the poem, as far as I can make out, about eightyears, and a fine boy for that. Anyhow, it makes _Noema_ at leasttwenty-five, supposing she married at sweet seventeen, and, indeed, she alludes to herself in the poem as no longer in her first youth. Well, _Aran_, who is very far from being a domestic character, isstruck down by avenging lightning at the destruction of the Towerof Babel, and _Noema_ is left a widow, with her child, who has beenprotected in the _mêlée_ by the Spirit _Afrael's_ taking him out ofit, and restoring him to his mother's arms. When, after this, theinfatuated spirit-lover _Afrael_ requests _Noema_ to say the wordwhich shall make a man of him, and a husband of him too at the sametime, she modestly refuses, until she has had a decent time to orderher widow's weeds at her milliner's and wear them for about a month orso, at the expiration of which interval _Afrael_ may, if he be stillof the same mind, call in again, and pop the question. _Afrael_ bids good-bye to the Upper House, and, his heart beingever true to _Poll_--meaning _Noema_--he returns, makes an eveningcall upon her, and asks her, in effect, "Is it to be '_Yes-ema_, 'or '_No-ema_'?" The bashful widow chooses the former, and theSpirit-lover _Afrael_, renouncing his immortality, i. E. , givingup spirits, becomes plain _Mr. Afrael_, and an ordinary, as far asanybody can judge, a very ordinary mortal, showing what a change adrop of spirits can effect in a constitution. Now I should like thepoem "continued in our next. " I should like to hear _how_ they goton together: and, as longevity was considerable in those patriarchaldays, I should like to know how they got on together when _AfraelEsquire_ was 195, and his wife, _Noema_, was 200. Did _Afrael_ neveragain take to his spirits? Or, did he become miserable and hippedhaving entirely lost his spirits? Did his wife never make sarcasticreference to the "stars" with whom he had formerly been acquainted?And how about her boy, his step-son? Did they have any family? Whencecame the money? Perhaps Mr. ALFRED AUSTIN (whose works are being printed by MACMILLANin a collected form, and among them _The Satire_ now historic)will give us an entirely new volume on the same subject, telling anexpectant public all about _Mr. _ and _Mrs. Afrael chez eux_, and, infact, something spicy about this strangely assorted couple; for PoetALFRED will do well to remember and act upon his own dictum when, inthe preface to _The Satire_, he observed, and with truth, that had heoriginally "written with the grave decorum of a secluded moralist, he would" by this time "have gone down into the limbo of forgottenbores. " Into that limbo A. A. Will never descend. It is delightful to findhim dedicating his book to Lord LYTTON, to whom--when L. L. WasOWEN MEREDITH, ALFREDO _mio_ had pointed out that, "in one seriousparticular, he had overlooked parental admonition, " and observing onthat occasion that, "had OWEN MEREDITH even a glimpse of the truth, we" (A. A. Himself, in 1861, much "we"-er then than now--"_et alors, ilgrandira, il grandira!_") "should have been spared the final _tableau_of repentance and forgiveness which concludes _Lucile_. " But, thankgoodness, we (the Baron, and his literary friends) have _not_ beenspared the touching picture of repentance and forgiveness in ALFREDAUSTIN's dedicating his latest poem to Lord LYTTON. _Sic transit irapoetarum!_ In _The Season_ ALFREDO sang-- "I claim the precious privilege of youth, Never to speak except to speak the truth. " But those lines were not written the day before yesterday, and as hecan no longer "claim" the aforesaid "precious privilege, " he can inhis more mature years "go as he pleases. " And there is so much "go"in him that he always pleases; so the Baron anticipates the sequel to_The Tower of Babel_ on the lines already suggested, presumptuous asit may seem to suggest lines to a poet. _Phra the Phoenician_, a very clever idea, with which BULWER wouldhave performed mysteriously thrilling wonders, but which Mr. ARNOLDhas written at once too heavily and treated too lightly, in too muchof a "so-called nineteenth century style;" which is a pity, as it isfull of dramatic incident, and the interest well kept up through sometwo thousand years or so, more or less. He is a wonder is _MisterPhra_, and might well be called _Phra Diavolo_ instead of _Phra thePhoenician_. Sir EDWIN ARNOLD has written a preface to the volume, and seems to express a wish that the wonders here recorded could bepossibilities of everyday life. But, if so, as _Mr. Weller, Senior_, observed, _à propos_ of "there being a Providence in it, " "O' coursethere is, SAMMY; or what 'ud become o' the undertakers?" And as tocremation--well, such an utter corporeal extinction would be theonly way of putting an end to the terrestrial existence of _Phra thePhoenician_, who, however, "might rise, " as _Mrs. Malaprop_ would say, "like a Phoenician from the ashes. " The appearance of _A New Lady Audley_ is rather late in thehalf-century as a "skit" on Miss BRADDON's celebrated novel. Now andthen I found an amusing bit in it, but, on the whole, poor stuff, saysTHE BARON DE BOOK-WORMS. My faithful "Co. " has been reading poetry and prose, and thuscommunicates the result of his studies:--There is genuine butunassuming poetry, which is, after all, only another way of sayingfine feeling finely expressed, in _Corn and Poppies_, by COSMOMONKHOUSE (ELKIN MATHEWS). Much of the verse is musical, and thereis throughout a vein of thoughtfulness which never degenerates intoa morbid brooding. I commend particularly "Any Soul to any Body, ""A Dead March, " and "Mysteries, " as good examples of Mr. MONKHOUSE'sstyle. So much for verse. Let me now to prose. Like my baronial Chief, I say, "Bring me my boots!" and let them be thick, so that I maytrudge safely through Mr. RUDYARD KIPLING's latest, "_The Light thatFailed" (Lippincott's Monthly Magazine_, January). This is describedas Mr. KIPLING's first long story. His publishers, moreover, are goodenough to take all the trouble of criticism upon their own shoulders. They declare that "there is more stern strength in this novel thanin anything which Mr. KIPLING has written;" but that is, after all, only a comparative statement, which profits me little, as I never yetestimated the amount of "stern strength" in Mr. KIPLING's previouswritings. I am, however, told, in addition, that the tale "is asintensely moving as it is intensely masculine" (there's lovelylanguage!) "and it will not be surprising if it should prove to bethe literary sensation of the year. " To such an expression of opinionby competent judges it would be futile to attempt to add very much. I will only say, therefore, that the "sensation" produced in me bythis novel is one of the most disagreeable I ever experienced. Thecharacters are, for the most part, inordinately dull, preposterouslyconceited, and insufferably brutal. As for _Dick Heldar_, the hero, nomore disagreeable and hateful bully-puppy ever thought and talked indisconnected gasps through ninety-seven pages. The catastrophe movesno pity. Mr. KIPLING seems to despise the public, "who think withtheir boots, and read with their elbows;" but so clever a man mightsurely show his contempt less crudely. KIPLING, I love thee, but nevermore write such another tale! * * * * * [Illustration: INFELICITOUS QUOTATIONS. _Hostess_. "WON'T YOU TRY SOME OF THAT JELLY, HERR SILBERMUND?" _Herr Silbermund_ (_who has just been helped to Pudding_). "ACH, ZANKYOU, NO. I VOOT 'RAHZER PEAR VIZ ZE ILLS VE HAF, ZAN VLY TO OZZERS ZATVE KNOW NOT OF. '" [_Herr S. Is particularly proud of his knowledge ofShakspeare. _]] * * * * * "WORSE THAN EVER!" FARMER SMITH _LOQUITUR_:-- "To market, to market, to buy a fat pig!" Yes, so runs the old-fashioned nursery rhyme, And a porker that's plump, and round-barrel'd and big, Is good business, --or used to be once on a time. But now, they're the horriblest nuisance on earth Are Pigs, and a great deal more plague than they're worth. I begin to believe 'twould be better by far If Pigs, like the Dodo, extinct could become. They involve one in nothing but jangle and jar, And as to large profits, why that's all a hum. "Please the Pigs?" That's absurd, a mere obsolete wheeze, For Pigs are precisely the beasts you _can't_ please! Gee up, _Dobbin_, old lad! Home's in sight; you have borne My burden, and that of my basket, right well, Your carrying power some neighbours would scorn, But you're sound and good grit, though you mayn't look a swell. We're starting, lad, after our short half-way halt, If we don't make good time it will not be our fault. We did the first stretch unexpectedly slick, My basket well loaded a feather-weight seemed, The road was so smooth, and your canter so quick, 'Twas better, old lad, than we either had dreamed. A great disappointment to some folk, I think. Then we halted half-way for a rest and a drink. That big Irish Pig, which had plagued us so oft. Was away, --running after its head or its tail! Oh joy, _Dobbin_, dear, to jog on, and go soft, No row, no obstruction by hedge-gap or rail. Ah, then they discovered the pace and the pith Of _Dobbin_ the dull, and his mount, Farmer SMITH. Now all seems smooth sailing! Hillo! What was that? A squeak? Nay, it sounds like a chorus of squeaks! Don't shy, my dear _Dobbin_--you'll shake off my hat. The lane here grows narrow. Who's there? No one speaks. But that raucous "hrumph! hrumph!" that cacophonous yell! 'Tis Pig-noise, and Irish--I know it so well. It is right in the road, it is plump in the gap. Steady, _Dobbin_! Don't halt for this hullaballoo-- Gee up! and go steady, now there's a good chap. What, the same plaguy Pig! Nay, by Jove, _there are two!_ And they're fighting each other, these porkers perverse, In the gap we must pass! Oh! this grows worse and worse! [_Whips up Dobbin. _ * * * * * KOCH SURE! SCENE--_A PLACE OF MEETING. ENTER BROWN AND JONES. THEY SALUTE ONEANOTHER_. _Brown_ (_excitedly_). Have you heard the good news? _Jones_ (_stolidly_). What good news? _Brown_. That Dr. KOCH has at length revealed his secret? _Jones_ (_startled_). No, has he! Dear me! And that I should havemissed so pleasant a piece of intelligence! And so he has told ananxiously-expectant world the cause of his success! Can _you_ explainthe matter to me? _Brown_ (_cheerfully_). With the assistance of the Public Press, to besure I can. See here, I will give you the solution to the problem, astold by the Journals, "without puzzling technicalities. " _Jones_. I hang upon your words with an impatience thatpoliteness--the outcome of civilisation--alone renders endurable. _Brown_. Then you must know that Dr. KOCH has discovered that theremedy for tuberculosis consists of a glycerine extract of a purecultivation of tubercle bacilli, the local effect of which, wheninjected into a healthy guinea-pig, produces a nodule found at thepoint of inoculation, which, when a second puncture is perpetrated, causes what may be called the bacillary fluid to be brought into thecurrent of its circulation, so that the infected tissue may react uponthe agent which it had previously been able to resist. I am not quitesure that I have got the _exact_ words, but that's the idea. Simple, isn't it? _Jones_. Very! [_Exeunt severally. _ * * * * * [Illustration: "WORSE THAN EVER!" FARMER SMITH. "TUT-T-T! _TWO OF 'EM!_ BAD ENOUGH WHEN THERE WAS ONLYONE!!"] * * * * * DOMESTIC MELODIES. (_BY SANCHO PRESTON PANZA. _) WINTER BATH-SONG. For weeks the sun each morn arose As 'tis his nature to, But little difference he made Sopp'd by the fog's asthmatic shade; From day's beginning till its close The day no brighter grew. Above the sheets, the sleeper's nose Peep'd shyly, as afraid, While 'neath the dark and draughty flue The burnt-out cinders meanly strew The hearth, where now no firelight glows, No waiting warmth is laid. Full many a morn I sprang from bed, As o'er the deadly brink The wretch, with courage of despair, Leaps from the slimy river-stair, By hopeless hope unthinking sped, Ere he can pause to think. Cold as the efforts of the dead, The needle-atom'd air, Impinged upon the limbs that shrink. On shivering shanks, and eyelids pink, And bound its bands about the head, And chill'd the underwear. The frost that held us in its grip, Would raise the prisoning paw, And Nature, like a mouse set free, Enjoyed delusive liberty, While every water-pipe must drip To greet the passing thaw. Then rudely dashed from eager lip The cup of joy would be, And fingers numbed, and chattering jaw, Owned unexpelled the winter's flaw, And on the steps the goodmen slip, And shout the major D. Long like a fossil tipsy-cake The sponge each morn appeared; The bath, if plenished over-night, Was frozen ere the morning light, And more that frigid water-ache Than unwashed days I feared, Now while the milder zephyrs shake Once more the winter's might, My sponge, my bath, by loss endeared, Shall dree no more a lonely weird; And as young ducks to water take, Shall be my bath ward flight. * * * * * GOOD DEVON! Mr. W. H. SMITH will return to Grosvenor Place from Torquay on Monday, for the opening of Parliament. 'Tis pity of you, OLD MORALITY, Back from your rest to loud banality. After St. Stephen's shindy, Devon No doubt appeared a very heaven: But cream's as much like water chalky As Torquay Torrs to Talky-Talky! * * * * * CHANGE OF INITIALS. "Often as I may have been invited, " Mr. T. M. HEALY is reported tohave said, in the course of a recent speech, "I never yet put a toeinside his house. " Memorable words. Henceforth, name changed toTOE-AND-HEALY, M. P. * * * * * A WORD TO MOTHERS. [A well-known Dramatic Critic has recently spoken of a play as "just the play in which growing girls will delight. "] O Anxious Mothers, come and listen To what just now I've got to say. If I'm not wrong, your eyes will glisten Before the end of this my lay. With strong affection overflowing-- Your children are indeed your pearls-- You can't help feeling pleased at knowing The play's the thing--for growing girls! The pages of a lady's journal I've very often read with care, The news, the gossiping eternal, You're always sure of getting there. Of how you ought to bind your tresses, The latest styles, the tint in hair, And there I've seen the kind of dresses It's right for growing girls to wear. But never once the slightest mention Of what they'd better go and see, And yet it's clear that some attention To such a thing there ought to be. For sentiment and love they're frantic, They're fond of knights and belted earls, A play that's just the least romantic-- Yes, that's the play for growing girls. A crowing child, who loves to prattle, Can easily be kept at rest. You've only got to get a rattle, Or p'raps a dolly would be best. A bouncing boy will blow a bubble, And want no more the livelong day; But if a growing girl gives trouble, You've got to take her to the play! * * * * * A PIONEER IN PETTICOATS. [An American Lady is about to explore Africa, on humane principles. ] _Arrive in Africa_. --Convinced that real way of taming the savageheart is by _Feminine Tact_. No need of brutal habits of maleadventurers. Two negresses, from "Ole Virginny, " with me, who saidthey would like to "see Africa again"; a few Arabs, to carry ourbaggage. Intend to study home-life of African tribes, and to get themto talk into my phonograph. [Illustration] _Month Later_. --Have had to exhibit more Feminine Tact than Iexpected. Got entangled in swampy forest on Zambesi (I think), andArabs declined to extricate us unless their pay was doubled! Also oneof negresses--horrid woman!--has deserted me--come to place that shepretended to recognise as her native village, and said she meant tostay! Tact useless with females! _On Lake Tanganyika_--or if it isn't Lake Tanganyika, it's _anentirely new lake_, --which I have been the first to discover! Suffer agood deal from fever and queer diet. Am studying native home-life. _Later_. --Have left two Arabs and my remaining negress on Lake, andgone myself to look for STANLEY's Dwarfs. Told that TIPPOO TIB issomewhere about. Also advised to be very careful not to fall in withthe "man-eating Manyuema. " _Still Later_. --Did fall in with them! Also fell out with them. They made all preparations for using me as a side-dish at a cannibalbanquet, when TIPPOO TIB arrived and released me. _Tanganyika again!_--Back here safe and sound! TIPPOO TIB turned outmost unsatisfactory. Wanted to marry me!--with a hundred other wivesalready! Not prepared for _this_ sort of home-life. Managed to getaway by describing to him a Remington typewriter, and promising if helet me go, to bring one back _at once_. Find that my "rear-guard"--the negress and Arabs--have been up tofearful pranks during my absence. Negress killed and ate one of Arabs, and then other Arab killed and ate negress! Tell remaining Arab Ishall have him punished when I get to Coast. Arab says he'll get therefirst, and publish a book showing _me_ up! _Latest_. --Left alone in middle of Africa, with a phonograph, severalbales of baggage, and a diary. Question now is--will Feminine Tactshow me road to Zanzibar? * * * * * UNIVERSITY HONOURS. --"SMITH's Prizeman"--ARTHUR BALFOUR. The "SeniorWrangler" (for several years past)--Mr. GLADSTONE. * * * * * THE AMUSING RATTLE'S TOPICAL NOTE-BOOK. (_FOR THE USE OF PROFESSIONAL DINERS-OUT AND OTHER AMATEURENTERTAINERS. _) _The Meeting of Parliament_. --This is not a very promising subject, but mild mirth may be produced in outlying districts (say Southend orHoniton, Devon) by observing, that the rock upon which the Irish Partywent to pieces was a happy one--in fact, a GLAD-STONE. This, strictlyspeaking, is _not_ a new jest, and therefore must be helped out bya burst of self-supplied laughter. You might add, that as Members ofParliament are obliged, by the rules of the House, to address theircolleagues _standing_, there would he little chance of a _seated_discussion. But you must, however, take care to cough when you say_seated_, so that those on the look-out for a brilliant _bon-mot_ mayknow that you mean _heated_. _The Revolt in Chili_. --The name of the place in which thedisturbances have occurred will help you effectively to remark thatthe outbreak is seasonable during the present inclement weather. Asthe Army sympathises with the Government, and the sister servicewith the rioters, you can suggest "that knaves would, of course, besupported by the _Navy_!" This may lead up to a really magnificentburst of waggery in the assertion that the dissentients must ofnecessity be "all at sea. " _The New Archbishop of York_. --Insist that his Grace is a Scotchman, and not an Irishman, and prove your proposition by declaring thatthe road to success was "MACGEE's (pronounced MAGGIE's) secret!"This really splendid flash of humour will bear polishing--as writtenit seems a little in the rough. You may refer to the Primate'suniversally acknowledged partiality for quiet sarcasm, by saying that"ever since he joined the ecclesiastical Bench he has been known asan _arch_ Bishop!" These entertaining quibbles, delicately handled, should be received with enthusiasm at a five o'clock tea in a Deanery. _The New Play at the Haymarket_. --As the plot turns upon the doings ofthe Society of Friends, you may extract a jest by saying "that manyof the characters trembled with anxiety before its production--infact, were _quakers_!" The name of the Manager of the Haymarket hasfrequently been the subject of a quip, if not a crank; still it mayyet serve as a peg for slyly observing that, "At the fall of theCurtain, TREE, naturally enough, appeared with a _bough_!" _The Weather_. --Of course you must introduce this subject, and aseverything that _can_ be said _has_ been said about it, you may quoteSYDNEY SMITH as your authority for observing, that the only possiblesport for M. F. H. 's at this time of the year must be "_hunt--theslipper!_" If the point of this "good thing" is not immediatelyobvious, the fault will be with SIDNEY SMITH, and not with you. And this quaint oddity should satiate your audience with mirth andmerriment until next week--and even longer! * * * * * [Illustration: A COLD RECEPTION: OR PARLIAMENT MEETING IN A BLIZZARD. ] * * * * * STILL ANOTHER CHAPTER OF MY MEMOIR. (_IN SUPPLEMENT OF "HARPER. "_) BY MONSIEUR VAN DE BLOWITZOWN TROMP. [Illustration] Forget at this moment where I was born, but I lived long enough atMarseilles to be married in that great southern French city. My wife'sfather had been in the Marines; her uncle (on the grandfather's side)had been a _Sapeur pompier_. Thus did I, as it were, become _lié_ withthe sea and land forces of my adopted country. My wife's mother wasa descendant of a noble but anonymous family in the Vosges, whilsther maternal uncle was accustomed to attach to himself some localunpopularity by preferring for investigation a complicated sheet whichset forth his genealogy, tracing his origin back to the Bourbons. You ask me which Bourbon? I frankly answer, I cannot tell. My wife'smaternal uncle spoke of them as "_the_ Bourbons, " just as you talkof "_the_ Groceries, " and no one asks you _Lequel_? As for my ownancestry, I do not speak of it. I have never been in the habit ofthrusting myself on the attention of the public. It is sufficientfor me that my wife's maternal uncle's ancestors were Bourbons. I first began to take charge of public affairs in connection withan election that took place in the city where I found myself. M. DE LESSEPS opposed THIERS and GAMBETTA. He presented himself as anindependent candidate. Was he? I suspected. Already I had my secretagents in every centre of population. One, whose letter bore thepost-mark the Pyramids, placed in my hand proof that DE LESSEPS was anofficial candidate of the Empire. I secretly conveyed this informationto a local newspaper. The news burst like a tempest on the public ofMarseilles, and swept away in its irresistible whirl the candidatureof M. DE LESSEPS. This was pretty well for a first newspaper paragraph, worth at thetime, as I remember thinking, more than the paltry three sous a linethat became my due. But I had made more than a few sous--I had made anenemy! Years after, BISMARCK told me how, chatting with NAPOLEON THETHIRD at Donchery, that fallen monarch had recalled this incident, inwhich his prophetic eye justly discerned the beginning of the end. Headmitted that he had said to the EMPRESS, "France is too small for meand VAN DE BLOWITZOWN TROMP. One of us must cross _la Manche_. " Sublime! One of us did. But my time was not yet. My friends advised, nay, besought me to leaveMarseilles. Towards the end of this year (1869) I took their advice, and retired to a small property I chanced to have in the centre ofthe Landes. This place being dry, and somewhat remote, was peculiarlysuitable for watching the growth of great problems with a mindunbiassed by any knowledge of facts. I saw the Franco-German questiongrow, and I foresaw how it would end. I wrote to THIERS, and toldhim all about it. When the war broke out I mounted my stilts, andcautiously made my way across the untrodden track, following myDestiny. I had predicted the downfall of the Empire, and, in its lastgasp, the Empire strove to wither me. Proceedings had been commenced, when Sedan put an end to them. At this epoch France was on her knees, beaten down by the German hand, her eyes blind with blood and tears. One thing alone could cheer her. I could do it, and I did. I applied for Letters of Naturalisation. Some weeks later I became a French citizen, and received a letter fromM. ADOLPH CRÉMIEUX, then Minister of Justice, and never suspectedof being a wag. He wrote: "Your application for Naturalisation inthe midst of our great disasters, is for me the signal of a new lifefor us. A country which in the midst of such catastrophes recruitscitizens like you, is not to be despaired of. " Years after, THIERS, then President of the Republic, said, "Inever will forget that you became a Frenchman in the time of ourmisfortunes. " EDMUND ABOUT picturesquely said, "_Il s'est faitnaturaliser vaincu. _" BISMARCK has told me that the Emperor WILLIAM, then at Versailles, in the first flush of triumph at touch on his browof the Imperial diadem, hearing of the event through the capturingof a balloon despatched with the news to dolorous Paris, passed asleepless night. "I fear me" he said, "all will now be lost. " "Not at all, your Majesty, " said BISMARCK, affecting an indifferencehe assures me he did not feel. "There is not even a Frenchman themore. They have lost an Emperor and gained VAN DE BLOWITZOWN TROMP. _Ce met égal. _" "Not quite, " said the Emperor, with subtle flattery. The EmperorWILLIAM, though he had his failings, was a keen judge of thecomparative value of men. The limits of this article compel me to glance hastily over succeedingepochs in a career with the main drift of which the civilised worldis already familiar. After saving Marseilles to the Republic, by aseries of actions alternating between desperate valour and brilliantstrategy, I went to Paris to report on the great event. Calling on theofficial entrusted with the duty of considering claims to decorations, I began at once by saying that my own name must not be taken intoconsideration. "Let my name, " I said, gently but firmly, "be scored out in theproposed list of decorations. " "_Mais, Monsieur_" he said, "there is no such list. " I, however, was not to be put off with excuse of that kind. Iinsisted, both to the Secretary of the Minister of War, to M. THIERS, that I should not be decorated. I was only too successful. When thelist came out, all my associates at Marseilles were decorated. I wasnot included. This was all right. It was what I had requested. I couldsay nothing. All the same, I could not help thinking that my advicehad been too literally accepted. Every morning, for a week after, I called on M. THIERS. At the endof the sixth day he said, "You must go to Riga. I do not quite knowwhere it is, but it sounds remote. You shall be Consul at Riga. " I wasdelighted. Like the President, I was not sure where Riga was; but thesalary was certain, and there was fine old Roman flavour about thetitle Consul. But it was not to be. I was predestined to be a great NewspaperCorrespondent. How that came about cannot be told in this chapter. Iwill only say that early in my new career I secured the approbation ofMr. DELANE, who, I need scarcely say, was the most competent judge theworld ever saw of the merits of a journalist. At the risk of being dry and bald, I have confined myself to tellingaccurately what has happened, my greatest ambition being to leave noone the chance of misrepresenting, as his whim, fancy, or passion maydictate, facts in which I am so deeply interested. Let those notethem who, after my time, have to defend my memory should it ever beattacked. * * * * * [Illustration: "The Shinner Quartette;" or, Musical Football. ] * * * * * "MORE HONOURED IN THE BREACH THAN THE OBSERVANCE. "--Breach of Promisecases--as a rule. * * * * * A GENERAL VIEW OF "PRIVATE INQUIRY. " [Illustration] I am sufficiently old-fashioned, when I go to the play, to wish tobe amused. I frankly admit I do not care to be taught a lesson, or tohave my mind harrowed by the presentation of some psychological study. I can remember WRIGHT, and even HARLEY, and the days when a goodpiece of fun was the last item of the programme at the Adelphi andthe Olympic--the chief attraction of the Pittites, who patronised"half-price. " This being so, I am glad to find at the Strand--atheatre recalling memories of JIMMY ROGERS and JOHNNY CLARKE, PATTYOLIVER and CHARLOTTE SAUNDERS, to say nothing of a lady who was notonly Queen of Comedy but Empress of Burlesque--"_Private Inquiry_, " athoroughly well acted and rattling farce in three Acts. It is from theFrench, but as the task of adaptation has been entrusted to the Authorwho turned _Bébé_ the Frisky into _Betsy_ the Wholesome, any scruplesof conscience that the LORD CHAMBERLAIN may possibly have entertainedon reading the original have been successfully removed, and the play, consequently, is not only highly entertaining, but absolutely freefrom offence. I did not see it until it had reached its eighth night, and I do not remember a piece, taken as a whole, so excellently acted. Although he does not appear until the Second Act, Mr. WILLIE EDOUIN, as _'Arry 'Ooker_, the Private Inquiry Agent, is _the_ feature of theperformance. His politeness to ladies, his assumption of businesslikehabits, suggested by his reading and spiking of bogus telegramsbrought to him when he is engaged with a client, his urbanity underdifficulties, and his cheerful acceptance of the inevitable inwhatever shape presented, are all admirable points, and points thatare fully appreciated by the audience. Roars of laughter follow theone after the other when _'Arry 'Ooker_ is on the stage. Nothing canbe more absurd than his make-up, his bows, his grimaces, and yet underthe surface there is a vein of pathos that causes one to feel a pangof genuine regret when the poverty-stricken, light-hearted rogue, who, if he cannot secure a hundred guineas, is equally ready to accept a"tenner, " is marched oft to penal servitude as the Curtain falls. Theclerk of this entertaining individual, _Toby_, is played by a boy likea boy, by Master Buss. Farther, Mr. ALFRED MALTBY could not be betteras the suspicious and bamboozled husband, _Richard Wrackham_. Again, even the small part of _Alexander_, a Waiter, is well played. Oncemore--the ladies, without exception, are capital; and as a result ofthis all-round excellence, the piece "goes, " from a quarter to ninetill just eleven, with a _verve_ that must be most satisfactory toall concerned. So I can congratulate the Author upon a piece full oflines that tell, and the Manager upon a play that is likely to rivalin popularity its predecessor, the phenomenally-successful _Our Flat. _And I can offer these congratulations with a dear conscience, becauseI am neither Author of the piece nor Manager of the theatre, but asMr. RUDYARD KIPLING might observe, QUITE ANOTHER FELLOW. * * * * * LARKS! SIR, --I am surprised that any of your Correspondents should doubt thatbirds eat snow. There is a bull-finch in my aviary, and I tried him. He ate it ravenously. Strange to say, he has not uttered a soundsince! My wife says, "Probably his _pipe_ is frozen. " This is such agood joke, I think you ought to have it. Yours, LOVER OF NATURE. SIR, --You may like to have the following story in support of the ideathat animals are aware that snow is frozen water. It was related tome by a rather rackety nephew, who has lived part of his life in SouthAmerica, and whose word can be strictly relied on. He relates thatonce, when he was travelling among the Andes, at an elevation of sometwenty thousand feet, his mules became very thirsty, and no water wasobtainable. Each animal seized a _calabash_ with its teeth, filled itwith snow, and trotted off to the crater of an adjacent volcano; itthen waited till the lava melted the snow, which it drank up, andfinally trotted back again. My nephew says he should not have believeda mule could be so clever, if he had not seen it. Yours obediently, SAMUEL SOBERSIDES. SIR, --Since writing you that letter about our bull-finch, I havediscovered an even more surprising fact, which I am sure no Naturalisthas yet dreamed of. Not only do birds appreciate snow, but they arevery fond of _iced beverages_. A tom-tit, who often drinks water froma saucer which we put on our window-sill, one day found the waterfrozen. What did the intelligent creature do? Why, it rapped on thewindow-pane with its beak till the window was opened, then hopped onto the sideboard, and began trying to peck the cork out of a whiskeybottle! I took the hint, and poured some of the spirit into thesaucer; the bird drank it greedily! My wife's comment on thisoccurrence is really too good to be lost, so I send it you. She said, "Evidently the bird was not a _tomtitotaller_!" Yours, in convulsions, LOVER OF NATURE (_as before_). * * * * * A PINT OF HALF-AND-HALF. "'_Qui va la?_' says he. " "'_Je_, ' replies I, knowing the language. " "_Jeames" and another Old Story_. The international susceptibilities of Sheriff DRURIOLANUS--henceforthto bear the Anglo-French title, _Monsieur le Shérif 'Arris de Paris_, or _'Arry de Parry_, --appear to have been considerably hurt by astatement in the _Débats_ to the effect that the appearance in theLondon streets of men dressed as Gendarmes--"_en gendarmes français_, "writes MOSSOO DRURIOLANE--intended as perambulating advertisements forthe Waterloo Panorama, was due to a supreme effort of his managerialgenius. So Shérif DRURIOLANE wrote at once to the London Correspondentof the _Figaro_, who bears the singularly French name of JOHNSON, denying, in his very best French, that he, M. Le Shérif, had hadanything to do with these walking advertisements, or, indeed, with thePanorama Company at all, from which he had retired a year ago. Then headds, like the _preux chevalier_ he is known to be, that had he stillbeen on the direction of the aforesaid _Compagnie_, he, at all events, would never, never have committed the enormity of even suggesting, however vaguely, an idea so calculated to needlessly insult "_lessusceptibilités françaises_. " ("_Hear! hear!_" and "_Très bien!_"from the left. ) Then M. Le Shérif DRURIOLANE, rising to the occasion, finishes with this magnificent flourish on the French horn--"_Jesuit né en France_"--(Isn't it very much "to his credit, " we askwith W. S. G. , that, "In spite of all temptations, To belong to othernations, He remains an Englishman?" Why, certainly)--"_j'ai vécu parmiles Français, et je suis à moitié enfant de Paris_. " Beautiful! _Magnifique!_ Our DRURIOLANUS is surpassing even theG. O. M. , who has been born, more or less, everywhere, except inParis. Should the Republic be in danger, or should Monarchistsor Imperialists get a chance and want a man for the place, letthem wire to DRURIOLANUS, "_à moitié enfant de Paris_" and the"_Enfant_"--"_Enfant_ ARRIS, " not "_Enfant_ GATTI"--will be ready, ayeready, to assume the purple, and to bring all his properties with him. "_À moitié_"--and the other half? That will ever remain British. So _àla santé de Monsieur le Shérif-enfant-de-Londres-et-Paris_, in a pintof Half-and-half, and let it, like Le Shérif himself, have a good headon! * * * * * THE ROLLING OF THE R'S. "We are told that the omission to roll it (the letter _r_) is as flagrant a misdemeanor as the dropping of the _h_. "--_James Payn in the Illustrated News_. AIR--"_THE WEARING OF THE GREEN_. " _SOFT-SPOKEN PERSON SINGS:--_ It's vewy wong, widiculous, and howwid, I've no doubt, To leave that little letter _r_ unuttahed or unwolled; But if you _haven't_ any _r_'s you've got to do without, And I can no maw woll _my r_'s than dwink my clawet cold. A Dowie wuggedness of speech I weally _can't_ attain, And though gwammawians may wave in leadewetts and pars, I quite agwee with good JAMES PAYN that all their wow is vain, The angwy wout must do without "the wolling of the _r_'s!" * * * * * HAGIOLOGICAL AND HISTORICAL NOTE. --Dr. HAROLD BROWNE, "the retiringBishop" of Winchester, as he is called, on account of his innatemodesty, wrote to the people of Farnham to say that, "never was therea Bishop since the time of his earliest predecessor in the See, St. Swithin, more literally 'at home' at Farnham Castle than himself. "To this fact Dr. H. B. Is, perhaps, unaware that the Saint in questionowed his name, as when any visitor called to ask if he were at home, the Hall-porter of the period invariably answered, "Yes, Saint'swithin. " Dr. HAROLD BROWNE is welcome to this information, which oughtto have been in _Notes and Queries_. * * * * * It is said that the invitations for the Drury Lane celebration ofTwelfth Night will not be sent out with so free a hand next year, theyoung men on the recent occasion having been so Baddeley behaved. * * * * * 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.