PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. VOL. 103. November 19, 1892. THE MAN WHO WOULD. II. --THE MAN WHO WOULD PLAY GOLF. BULGER was no cricketer, no tennis-player, no sportsman, in fact. But his Doctor recommended exercise and fresh air. "And I'm thinking, Sir, " he added, "that you cannot do better than just take yourselfdown to St. Andrews, and put yourself under TOM MORRIS. " "Is he agreat Scotch physician?" asked BULGER; "I don't seem to have heard ofhim. " "The Head of the Faculty, Sir, " said the medical man--"the Headof the Faculty in those parts. " BULGER packed his effects, and, in process of time, he arrived atLeuchars. Here he observed some venerable towers within a short walk, and fancied that he would presently arrive at St. Andrews. In this hewas reckoning without the railway system--he was compelled to wait atLeuchars for no inconsiderable time, which he occupied in extractingstatistics about the consumption of whiskey from the young lady whoministered to travellers. The revelations now communicated, convincedBULGER that either Dr. MORRIS was not on the lines of Sir ANDREWCLARK, or, as an alternative, that his counsels were not listened toby travellers on that line. [Illustration] Arriving in the dusk, BULGER went to his inn, and next morninginquired as to the address of the Head of the Faculty. "I dinna ken, "said an elderly person, to whom he appealed, "that the Professorshad made TOM a Doctor, though it's a sair and sad oversicht, and adisgrace to the country, that they hae'na done sae lang syne. But Ijalouse that your Doctor was jist making a gowk o' ye. " "What!" saidBULGER. "Jist playin' a plisky on ye, and he meant that TOM wad pit yein the way o' becoming a player. Mon, ye're a bull-neckit, bow-leggitchiel', and ye'd shape fine for a Gowfer! Here's TOM. " And, with thisbrief introduction, the old man strolled away. BULGER now found himself in the presence of Mr. MORRIS, whosecourtesy soon put him on a footing of friendliness and confidence. He purchased, by his Mentor's advice, a driver, a cleek, a putter, abrassey, an iron, a niblick, and a mashy. Armed with these implements, which were "carried by an orphan boy, " and, under the guidance of theHead of the Faculty himself, BULGER set forth on his first round. Hisfirst two strokes were dealt on the yielding air; his third carriedno inconsiderable parcel of real property to some distance; but hisfourth hit the ball, and drove it across the road. "As gude as abetter, " quoth the orphan boy, and bade BULGER propel the tiny spherein the direction of a neighbouring rivulet. Into this affluent of themain, BULGER finally hit the ball; but an adroit lad of nine stampedit into the mud, while pretending to look for it, and BULGER had toput down another. When he got within putting range, he hit his ballcareering back and forward over the hole, and, "Eh, man, " quoth theorphan boy, "if ye could only drive as you put!" In some fifteen strokes he accomplished his task of holing out; andnow, weary and desponding (for he had fancied Golf to be an easygame), he would have desisted for the day. But the Head of the Facultypressed on him the necessity of "The daily round, the common task. "So his ball was tee'd, and he lammed it into the Scholar's Bunker, ata distance of nearly thirty yards. A niblick was now placed in hisgrasp, and he was exhorted to "Take plenty sand. " Presently a kindof simoom was observed to rage in the Scholars' Bunker, out of whichemerged the head of the niblick, the ball, and, finally, BULGERhimself. His next hit, however, was a fine one, over the wall, where, as the ball was lost, BULGER deposited a new one. This he, somehow, drove within a few feet of the hole, when he at once conceived anintense enthusiasm for the pastime. "It was a fine drive, " said theHead of the Faculty. "Mr. BLACKWELL never hit a finer. " Thus inflamedwith ardour, BULGER persevered. He learned to waggle his club in aknowing way. He listened intently when he was bidden to "keep his eyeon the ba'", and to be "slow up. " True, he now missed the globe andall that it inhabit, but soon he hit a prodigious swipe, well overcover-point's head, --or rather, in the direction where cover-pointwould have been. "Ye're awfu' bad in the whuns, " said the orphanboy; and, indeed, BULGER'S next strokes were played in distressingcircumstances. The spikes of the gorse ran into his person--he couldonly see a small part of the ball, and, in a few minutes, he had madea useful clearing of about a quarter of an acre. It is unnecessary to follow his later achievements in detail. Hereturned a worn and weary man, having accomplished the round inabout a hundred and eighty, but in possession of an appetite whichastonished him and those with whom he lunched. In the afternoon, theluck of beginners attending him, he joined a foursome of Professors, and triumphantly brought in his partner an easy victor. In a day ortwo, he was drinking beer (which he would previously have rejectedas poison), was sleeping like a top, and was laying down the lawon stimy, and other "mysteries more than Eleusinian. " True, afterthe first three days, his play entirely deserted BULGER, and evenProfessors gave him a wide berth in making up a match. But by steadyperseverance, reading Sir WALTER SIMPSON, taking out a professional, and practising his iron in an adjacent field, BULGER soon developedto such an extent that few third-rate players could give him a strokea hole. He had been in considerable danger of "a stroke" of quite adifferent character before he left London, and the delights of theBar. But he returned to the Capital in rude health, and may now oftenbe seen and heard, topping into the Pond at Wimbledon, and talking ina fine Fifeshire-accent. It must be acknowledged that his story abouthis drive at the second hole, "equal to BLACKWELL, himself, TOM MORRIShimself told me as much, " has become rather a source of diversion tohis intimates; but we have all our failings, and BULGER never dreams, when anyone says, "What is the record drive?" that he is beingdrawn for the entertainment of the sceptical and unfeeling. BULGERwill never, indeed, be a player; but, if his handicap remains attwenty-four, he may, some day, carry off the monthly medal. With thisgreat aim before him, and the consequent purchase of a red-coat andgilt-buttons, BULGER has a new purpose in existence, "something tolive for, something to do. " May this brief but accurate history conveya moral to the Pessimist, and encourage those who take a more radiantview of the possibilities of life! * * * * * A PLEBISCITE FOR PARNASSUS. [The result of the _Pall Mall's_ competition for the Laureateship has been to place Mr. ERIC MACKAY and Mr. GILBART-SMITH first and second, and SWINBURNE and MORRIS nowhere. ] A popular vote the Laureate's post to fill? Ay! if Parnassus were but Primrose Hill. The Penny Vote puts lion below monkey. 'Tis "Tuppence more, Gents, and _up goes the donkey!_" * * * * * QUITE MOVING. --_From Far and Near_ and _All Alive_, are two excellent"movable toy-books" that will please the little ones (when theirseniors are tired of playing with them) far into the Yule-tide season. The author is LOTHAR MAGGENDORFER, a gentleman to whom _Mr. Punch_wishes a "Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. " This may appear alittle premature, but it is a far cry from England to Germany, and theSage of Fleet Street has allowed for any delays that may be caused byfogs, railway unpunctuality, and other necessary evils. * * * * * THE AMERICAN GANYMEDE. [Illustration] [The extraordinary triumph of Mr. GROVER CLEVELAND, Democratic Candidate for the American Presidency, is attributed to a general revolt against the McKinley Bill. ] O plump and pant-striped boy, upborne, Like Ganymede of old, _Punch_ hails you, with your slack, untorn, Fast in the Eagle's hold. It is, indeed, a startling sight That speculation tarries on; And it must give an awful fright To Hebe (_alias_ HARRISON!) Up, up to the Olympus, where The White House spreads its board, Whirled high through the electoral air, A boy less long than broad! He looks not like the Tammany breed, That with high tariffs dally; He proves, this Yankee Ganymede, The Democratic rally. This eagle's a colossal fowl, Like _Sindbad's_ monstrous Roc, A bird of prey some say, a-prowl Like that Stymphalian flock, With iron claws and brazen beak, Intent to clutch and collar, Fired with devotion strong, yet weak, To the Almighty Dollar. Pooh! Plunder's not his only joy. He hovered till he saw "A something-pottle-bodied boy, " Who spurned MCKINLEY'S Law. He stooped and clutched him, fair and good, Flew nigh o'er roof and casement, Whilst the Republicans all stood Agape in sheer amazement. He soars with proudly swelling crest And followed with acclaims, A cause of wonder in the West, And crowing by the Thames. For England, glorying in the sight, Greets Boy and Bird together; Whilst watching with serene delight That big, black, falling feather! * * * * * ROBERT ON LORD MARE'S DAY. The most ewentfoollest day of the hole year broke, as the poets says, without almost not no fog, on Wensday larst, to my grate serprise andjoy; but noing, from long xperiens, how unsertain is whether at thisorful seasun of the year, I took jest one leetel glass of hold brandybefore setting out on my arjus dootys. I was encurraged to do so alsoby the horful rumers as was spread about, weeks afore, as to threttendatacks on the sacred Show by some disapinted prottestens, I think theycalled theirselves, as hadn't bin inwited to the Bankwet, and so meantto prottest accordingly. But I needn't a bin alarmd, for the most respekful mob as filled thestreets was as quiet as mice, havin heard, I'm told, as how as theCopperashun had had the lectric light turned on at Gildhall, by whichmeans, of course, they coud comunicate with any-wheres, and so knowwhere to send an hole army of Waiters to, well fortyfide, and armedto the teeth with a splendid Lunch, to help the pore Perlice in theirarjus dootys. From wot I seed of the butifool Sho, I shood give the cake to theFrute-Makers' splendid Car, all covered with the most butifool Frute, all made, too, in England, as it trewthfoolly said on both sides ofthe high-backed Car. The second plaice I shood give to the numerusbutifool young Ladys, with most butifool flaxin air, all most bisilyingaged in a twistlin and a twiddlin of luvly gold and silver wire, ona Car belongin to the Makers of Gold and Silver Wire Drorers, wich Iheard a most respectfool carpenter declare, must, he thort, be mostuncomferal to wear. With that good fortun as allers atends the HedWaiter, I seem to have atracted the notis of one of the most butifoolof the young Ladys afoursaid, for she acshally tossed me a luvlylittel bit of reel golden wire, which I shall trezure nex my art foryears, if so be as how it don't skratch. The grand Bankwet, with its nine hunderd Gestes, was as ushal, aboutthe grandest thing of the kind as the world has ever seen, but sumhowsit struck me as the gents was much more impashent for their wittlesthan they ushally is. At my pertickler tabel, the two gents at thetop was that trubblesum about the reel Turtel-soup as I ain't a tallaccumstumed to, and I amost poured a hole ladel-full down the fineshirt-front of one of em; and then, trying at the next help to awoidhim, I sent my helbow full into the face of the other, and a prettyfuss he made, you bet, and acshally torked of sending for thesouperintendent, ewidently not knowing who I was. The same himpashent Gent amost worried my life out arterwards, and allabout a glass of _plane_ water as he called it, and when I told him asI didn't think as we hadn't not none in the plaice, but I coud get hima bottel of amost any kind of Shampane as he liked to name; he againsaid as he wood call for the souperintendent. So in course I hadto go for some, and a preshus long time it took me to get it; thewine-steward naterally sayin as he never before herd of sich a orderon sich a ocasion, and he had only one bottel with him, and when Itook it to the himpashent Gent, and told him so, he fairly roared withlarfter, and told it all round as a capital joke! I wunders where thejoke was. When the dinner was over and the speaches began, I got permishun tostand unner the gallery for to hear them; but strange to tell, not aword coud I hear, and them as I did hear I coudn't unnerstand. So Ibegan for to fear as crewel age was a tarnishing of my 'earrings, soI moved to the other end of the 'All jest in time for to hear a werrydark but gennelmanly young feller, as was called the Gayqueer, orsome such wonderfool name, and who, I was told, come all the wayfrom Indier, make sitch a grand and nobel speach, and in quite asgood Inglish as ewen I coud use, as got him more applorse from thedistinguisht hordiens than all the speaches maid by Her Madjesty'sMinisters put together. Always xceptin the Lawyers, for they seems tohave sitch a jolly good time of it, that they are allers as reddy tocause a larf as to enjoy one. We all seemed sumhow to miss the werryPRIME MINISTER--we are all so acustomd to see the werry top of thetree, that we don't quite like being put off with a mere bow, howeverbig and himportant it may be; besides, I must confess as I do liketo hear his luvly woice, ewen when I don't quite unnerstand all as hesays. So I don't suppose as any one of my numerus readers will quarrelwith me when I says, better luck nex time. ROBERT. * * * * * [Illustration: CANDID CRITICISM. "LIKE MY NEW FROCK, AUNT JANE?" "WELL, _I_ SHOULD SAY YOU'D GOT SKIRTS FOR YOUR SLEEVES, AND A SLEEVEFOR YOUR SKIRT!"] * * * * * PROOFS BEFORE LETTERS. Humbugs will always ape their betters, Fools fancy the alphabet brings them fame; But you don't become a man of letters By tacking the letters after your name. One suffix only the _fact_ expresses, And that's an A and a couple of S's! * * * * * ANOTHER MEANING. --_I Rantzau_ is the title of MASCAGNI'S new Opera. The title, anglicised, would be suitable for an old-fashionedtranspontine melodramatic tragedian, who could certainly say ofhimself, "_I rant so!_" * * * * * SHAKSPEARIAN CONUNDRUM. At what time would SHAKSPEARE'S heroine of _The Taming of the Shrew_have been eminently fitted to be a modern Sunday-School teacher? _Answer. _ When _Petruchio_ kissed her; because then she was _a KattieKiss'd_. (Hem! A Cate-chist. ) * * * * * ALL ROUND THE FAIR. NO. I. SCENE--_A street of Gingerbread, Sweetstuff, and Toy-stalls, "Cocoa-nut Shies, " "Box-pitching Saloons, " &c. , forming the approach to the more festive portion of the Fair, from which proceeds a cheerful cacophony of orchestrions, barrel-organs, steam-whistles, gongs, big drums, rattles, and speaking-trumpets. _ _Proprietors of Cocoa-nut Shies. _ Now, then, play up all o'you--ar-har! There goes another on 'em! _That's_ the way to 'it'em--win all yer like, &c. _A Rival Proprietor_ (_pointing to his target, through the centre ofwhich his partner's head is protruded_). Look at _that_! Ain't thatbetter nor any coker-nut? Every time you 'it my mate's 'ed, you gita good cigar! (_As the by-standers hang back, from motives ofhumanity. _) 'Ere, _'ave_ a go at 'im, some o' you--give 'im a littleencouragement! _The Head_ (_plaintively_). Don't neglect a man as is doing his bestto please yer, gen'l'men! (_A soft-hearted Bystander takes a shot athim, out of sheer compassion, and misses. _) Try agen, Sir. I ain't'ere to be _idle_! _A Sharp Little Girl_ (_presiding over a sloping ChineseBilliard-board_). Now, my dears--(_To a group of boys, of about herown age_)--'ave what yer like. A penny a pull, and a prize every time!Wherever the marble rolls, you 'ave any one article on the board! [Illustration: "Now then, play up, all o' yea--ar-har!"] [_One of the boys pays a penny, and pulls a handle, propelling a marble, which, after striking a bell at the top of the slope, wobbles down into a compartment. _ _The Boy_ (_indicating a gorgeous china ornament on the board_). I'll'ave one o' them--to take 'ome to mother. _The S. L. G. _ (_with pitying superiority_). No, my boy, you can go to ashop and _buy_ one o' them for sixpence if you like--but 'ere you must'ave what you _git_! [_She awards him a very dingy lead-pencil, with which he departs, abashed, and evidently revolving her dark saying in his perplexed mind. _ _Proprietor of a Box-pitching Saloon. _ One penny a ball! For heveryball that goes in the boxes, you choose any prize you like! (_Withsorrow and sympathy, to a female Competitor. _) Too 'ard, Lady, too_'ard_! (_To a male Comp. , whose ball has struck the edge of the box, and bounced off. _) Very _near_, Sir! [_Several Competitors expend penny after penny unsuccessfully, and walk away, with a grin of entire satisfaction. _ _Joe_ (_landing a ball in one of the boxes, after four failures_). Itold 'ee I'd get _waun_ in! (_To his Young Woman. _) What are ye goin'to 'ave, MELIA? _Melia_ (_hovering undecidedly over a glittering array of shell-boxes, cheap photograph-albums and crockery_). I'll take one o'--no, I won'tneither. . . . I really don't know _what_ to 'ave! _Joe_ (_with masculine impatience_). Well, go on--take _summat_, can'tye! (_MELIA selects a cup and saucer, as the simplest solution of theproblem. _) I doan't carl that mooch of a show for fippence, Idoan't. Theer, gi' us 'old on it. [_He stows the china away in hisside-pockets. _ _Melia. _ You took an' 'urried me so--else I don't know as I fancieda cup and sarcer so partickler. I wonder if the man 'ud change it, supposin' we was to go back and ast 'im! _Joe_ (_slapping his thigh_). Well, you _are_ a gell and no mistake!Come along back and git whatever 'tis you've a mind to. (_Returning. _)'Ere, Master, will ye gi' this young woman summat else for this 'ere?(_He extracts the cup in fragments. _) 'Ullo, look a' _that_ now! (_ToMELIA. _) Theer, it's all right--doan't take on 'bout it. --I'll 'aveanother go to make it oop. (_He pitches ball after ball withoutsuccess. _) I wawn't be bett. I lay I'll git 'un in afoor I've done!(_He is at last successful. _) Theer--now, ye can please yourself, and doan't choose nawthen' foolish _this_ time! (_He strolls on withlordly indifference, and is presently rejoined by MELIA. _) Well, whatdid ye take arter all? _Melia. _ I got so flustered like, for fear o' losin' you, I just upand took the first that came 'andy. _Joe. _ Why, if ye ain't bin and took _another_ cup an' sarcer!hor--hor! that's a good 'un, that is! Take keer on it, it's cost moneyenough any 'ow--'t wouldn't be no bargain if it wur a 'ole tea-set!What's goin' on 'ere? [_A venerable old Sportsman, whom the reader may possibly recollect having met before, has collected a small crowd in a convenient corner; his stock-in-trade consists of an innocent-looking basket, with a linen-cover, upon which are a sharpened skewer and a narrow strip of cloth. _ _The Sportsman. _ I'll undertake to show you more fun in five minutes, than you'll get over there in two: (_with a vague suspicion that thisis rather a lame conclusion_)--in ten, I _should_ say! This 'ere's asimple enough little game, when you know the trick of it, and I'mon'y a _learnin'_ it myself. I ain't doin' this for money. I got moneyenough to sink a ship--it's on'y for my own amusement. Now you watchme a doin' up this garter--keep yer eye on it. (_He coils up thestrip. _) It goes _up_ 'ere, ye see, and down _there_, and _in_ 'ereagin, and then round. Now, I'm ready to bet anything from a sovereignto a shilling, nobody 'ere can prick the middle. I'll tell ye if yewin. I'm ole BILLY FAIRPLAY, and I don't cheat! (_A Spotty-faced Man, after intently following the process, says he believes he could findthe middle. _) Well, don't tell--that's all. I'm 'ere all alone, aginthe lot o' ye, and I want to win if I can--one dog to a bone! (_The_S. -F. M. _produces a florin from a mouldy purse, and stakes it, andmakes a dab at the coil with the skewer. _) No, ye're wrong--that'soutside! (_O. B. F. Pulls the strip out. _) By Gum, ye've done it, afterall! 'Ere's four bob for you, and I'm every bit as pleased as if I'dwon myself! 'Oo'll try next? _A Smart Young Man_ (_with a brilliant pin in a dirty necktie, toJOE_). I don't see how it's done--do you? _Joe. _ Ye will if you don't take yer eyes off it--theer, I could tellye the middle now, I could. _The Sp. -F. M. _ Law, yes, it's simple enough. I done it first time. _Old B. F. _ Give an old man a chance to get a bit. If any party 'ere'as found me out, let him 'old 'is tongue--it's all _I_ ask. (_ToJOE. _) You've seen this afore, _I_ know! _Joe. _ Noa, I ain't--but I could tell ye th' middle. _Old B. F. _ Will ye bet on it? Come--not too 'igh, but just to showyou've confidence in your opinion! _Joe_ (_cautiously_). I woant bet wi' ye, but I'll hev a try, just fornawthen, if ye like! _Old B. F. _ Well, I want to see if you really _do_ know it--so, jestfor once, I ain't no objection. (_JOE pricks the garter. _) Yes, you'vefound the middle, sure enough! It's a good job there was no moneyon--for _me_, leastwise! _The Sp. -F. M. _ I've a good mind to 'ave another try. _The Sm. Y. M. _ I wouldn't. You'll lose. I could see you on'y guessedthe first time. (_The Sp. F. M. , however, extracts a shilling, stakesit--and loses. _) There, _I_ could ha' told you you was wrong--(_ToJOE_)--couldn't you? _Joe. _ Yes, he art to ha' pricked moor to waun side of 'un. (_TheSp. -F. M. Stakes another florin. _) Now he's done it, if ye like! _O. B. F. _ There, ye see, I'm as often wrong as not myself. (_To theSp. -F. M. _) There's your four bob, Sir. Now, jest once more! _Joe_ (_to MELIA_). I'll git the price o' that theer cup an' sarcerout of 'un, any'ow. (_To O. B. F. _) I'll ha' a tanner wi' ye! _O. B. F. _ 'Alf a soverin, if you like--it's all the same to me! _Joe_ (_after pricking_). I _thart_ I 'ad 'un that time, too, I did! _The Sm. Y. M. _ You shouldn't ha' changed your mind--you were rightenough afore! _Joe_. Yes, I should ha' stuck to it. (_To O. B. F. _) I'll bet ye twobob on the next go--come! _O. B. F. _ Well, I don't like to say no, though I can see, plain enough, you know too much. (_JOE pricks; O. B. F. Pulls away the strip, and leaves the skewer outside. _) I could ha' sworn you done me thattime--but there ye _are_, ye see, there's never no tellin' at thisgame--and that's the charm on it! [_JOE walks on with MELIA in a more subdued frame of mind. _ _The Sm. Y. M. _ (_in the ear of the Spotty-faced One_). I say, I gota job o' my own to attend to--jest pass the word to the Old Man, whenhe's done with this pitch, to turn up beyind the swing-boats there, and come along yourself, if yer can. It's the old lay I'm on--theprize-packets fake. _The Sp. -F. M. _ Right--we'll give yer a look in presently--it'll be alittle change for the Ole Man--trades's somethin' cruel _'ere_! * * * * * HIS MAD-JESTY AT THE LYCEUM. Except when HENRY IRVING impersonated the hapless victim of falseimprisonment in the Bastille, whence he issued forth after twentyyears of durance, never has he been so curiously and wonderfullymade-up as now, when he represents _Lear_, monarch of all he surveys. Bless thee, HENRY, how art thou transformed! [Illustration: Rather mixed. Mr. Irving as "Ophe-Lear. "] Sure such a _King Lear_ was never seen on any stage, so perfect inappearance, so entirely the ideal of SHAKSPEARE'S ancient King. It must have been a vision of IRVING in this character that thedivinely-inspired poet and dramatist saw when he had a _Lear_ in hiseye. For a moment, too, he reminded me of BOOTH--the "General, " notthe "particular" American tragedian, --and when he appeared in thunder, lightning, hail, and rain, he suggested an embodiment of the "_Moses_"of MICHAEL ANGELO. A strange weird play; much for an audience, and more for an actor, allon his own shoulders, to bear. A one-part play it is too, for of thesweet _Cordelia_, --and sweet did ELLEN TERRY look and so tenderly didshe play!--little is seen or heard. With _Goneril_ and _Regan_, thetwo proud and wicked sisters, --associated in the mind of the modernestBritish Public with Messrs. HERBERT CAMPBELL and HARRY NICHOLLS, as isalso _Cordelia_ associated either with _Cinderella_ or with _Beauty_in the story of _Beauty and the Beast_--we have two fine commandingfigures; and well are these parts played by Miss ADA DYAS and MissMAUD MILTON. The audience can have no sympathy with the two wickedPrincesses, and except in _Goneril's_ brief Lady-Macbethian scene withher husband, neither of the Misses LEAR has much dramatic chance. Pitythat Mrs. LEAR--his Queen and their mother, wasn't alive! Let us hopeshe resembled her youngest daughter _Cordelia_, otherwise poor _Lear_must have had a hard life of it as a married man. Why should not Mr. IRVING give the first part of this playreconsideration? Why not just once a week try him as a different sortof _Lear_? For instance, suppose, to begin with, that he had had a badtime of it with his wife, that for many years as a widower he had beenseeking for the opportunity of disposing of his daughters, handingover to them and to their husbands the lease and goodwill of "TheCrown and Sceptre, " while he would be, as King, "retired frombusiness, " and going out for a lark generally. Thus jovially would hecommence the play, a rollicking, gay, old dog, ready for anything, upto anything, and, like old Anchises, when he jumped on to the back ofÆneas, "a wonderful man for his years. " In fact, _Lear_ might beginlike an old King Cole, "a merry old soul, " a "jolly old cock!" Andthen--"Oh, what a difference in the morning!"--when all his plansfor a gay career had been shipwrecked by _Cordelia's_ capricious andunnatural affectation. [Illustration: Mr. Terriss as the Good Fairy. ] Then must commence his senility; then he would begin to break up. Astruggle, to show that there was life in the old dog yet, could beseen when the old dog had been out hunting, in Act II. , and had shotsome strange animal, something between a stag and a dromedary, whichno doubt was a native of Britain in those good old sporting days. However, more of this anon. Suffice it to say now, that our HENRYIRVING'S _Lear_ is a triumph in every respect, and that the audienceonly wanted a little more of _Cordelia_, which is the fault of theimmortal and unequal Bard. To those unacquainted with this play, Mr. TERRISS'S sudden appearancein somewhat anti-Lord-Chamberlain attire, as he bounded on, with awand, and struck an attitude, was suggestive of the Good Fairy inthe pantomime; and his subsequent proceedings, when he didn't changeanybody into Harlequin, Clown, and so forth, puzzled the unlearnedspectators considerably. But Mr. TERRISS came out all right, andacquitted himself (being his own judge and jury) to the satisfactionof the public. His speech about Dover Cliff, generally supposed toconvey some allusion to the Channel Tunnel, was excellently delivered, and certainly after _Lear_, "on the spear side, " Mr. TERRISS must takethe Goodeley Cake. Next to him in order of merit comes Mr. FRANK COOPER, as thewicked _Edmund_, on whom the good EDMUND, "Edmundus Mundi, " smiledbenignantly from a private box. There was on the first night a greatreception given to HOWE--the veteran actor, not the wreck, and veryfar from it--who took the small part of an old Evicted Tenant of the_Earl of Glo'ster_, a character very carefully played by Mr. ALFREDBISHOP, _Floreat Henricus!_ "Our HENRY" has his work cut out for himin this "Titanic work, " as in his before-curtain and after-play speechhe termed it. This particular "Titanic work" is (or certainly was thatnight) in favour with "the gods, " who "very much applauded what he'ddone. " But the gods of old were not quite so favourable to "Titanicwork" generally, and punished eternally Titanic workmen. To-night godsand groundlings applaud to the echo, and then everyone goes home asbest he can in about as beautiful a specimen of a November fog as everdelighted a Jack-o'-Lantern or disgusted PRIVATE BOX. * * * * * AN OPERATIC NOTE. --_Wednesday_. --Lord Mayor's Day and Sheriff SirAUGUSTUS DRURIOLANUS'S Show. _L' Amico Fritz_, or "The old Min isfriendly, " as _Dick Swiveller_ would have put it. Not by any means asbright as _Cavalleria_. Mlle. DEL TORRE, del-lightful as _Suzel_. M. DUFRICHE, very good as _Rabbino_; CREMONINI, weak as _Fritz_; andMlle. MARTHA-CUPID-BAUERMEISTER, good as usual in the part of the"harmless necessary _Cat"-erina. _ Opera generally "going strong. " * * * * * REPORTED DECISION. --Uganda is to be occupied till March next. Then, order of the day, "March in, March out!" * * * * * "SAFE BIND, SAFE FIND!" P. C. JOHN BULL _LOQUITUR_:-- Keep them? Right my Gallic friend! 'Tis my duty, sad but binding. Free the Wolf--to what good end? Loose the Snake--what vantage finding? Faction flusters, Cant appeals In the name of sham-humanity. Right, not wrath, my bosom steels; Softness here were sheer insanity. _You_'ve my warmest sympathy, Victim of the new Red Terror! _My_ caged RAVACHOLS to free Were the maddest kind of error. Prison walls and dungeon wards Love I not, I'm no born gaoler, But just Law which Freedom guards _Must_ ignore anarchic railer. Blind offence of men half mad 'Neath the goad of brute oppression, Blunderings of fierce fools of fad, Demoniacal possession Of red rage at law unjust, I can check with calm compassion; But must firmly crush to dust Murder--in the newest fashion. Dynamite as Freedom's friend? 'Tis the foul fiend's latest juggle. We must fight it to the end, Firm, unfaltering in this struggle. Mere "Political Offence, " All this murder, mashing, maiming? 'Tis a pitiful pretence, Honour-blinding, wisdom-shaming. Indiscriminate, ruthless raid! Mad chance--medly of disaster! Sophistry, the fiend's sworn aid, Never better served its master Than in calling such hell-birth A new gospel, holy, human, -- Blasting as with maniac mirth Blameless men, and guiltless women! No! The Dynamiter's creed-- Though hate swagger, though cant snivel-- Fires no "patriotic" deed; Base-born, all its ends are evil. Let caged wolves and tigers free? What more wicked, what absurder? Amnesty to Anarchy Means encouragement to Murder? * * * * * WHERE TO PLACE HIM. --Why ought the future Poet-Laureate, whoever hemay be, to occupy rooms over or close to the stables at BuckinghamPalace? Because he would then be inspired by the Royal Mews. * * * * * [Illustration: A TEST OF TRUE GENTILITY. "WHAT'S THE NEW LODGER LIKE, MARIARANN?" "HE'S NO GENTLEMAN, WHATEVER HE'S LIKE!" "NO GENTLEMAN! WHAT'S HE BEEN AND DONE?" "WHY, HE SEE ME A-CARRYIN' UP THE COALS, AN' HE SAYS, 'I'M AFRAID THATSCUTTLE'S TOO HEAVY FOR YOU, ' 'E SAYS, --'PRAY LET _ME_ CARRY IT!' 'ESAYS. AN' 'E UP AND CARRIES IT ISSELF, JUST LIKE A FOOTMAN!"] * * * * * TO A MODEL YOUNG LADY. [It is reported that it is a common custom in Paris, amongst ladies of position, to pay for their dresses by wearing them in public, and letting it be known from whom they obtained them. ] My dear, I like your pretty dress, It suits your figure to a T. I'm free to own that I confess, It's just the kind of dress for me. Yet will you kindly tell me, dear, Not merely was the costume made for Yourself alone--but is it clear And certain that your dress is paid for? Mistake me not. I do not dread That you'll think fit to run away And leave the bill unpaid. Instead, I fear that you will never pay, Because no bill will ever come; And since when you decide to toddle Abroad, you'll go amidst a hum Of praise for Madame's lovely Model Oh! promise me that when I read My paper (as I often do), I shall not with remorseless speed See endless pars in praise of you, Or rather of the dress you wore, For though, maybe, no harm or hurt is meant, Remember, dearest, I implore, I _won't_ be fond of an advertisement! * * * * * OUR BOOKING-OFFICE. "_Days with Sir Roger de Coverley!_" exclaimed the Baron, on seeingthe charming little book brought out at this season by Messrs. MACMILLAN. "Delightful! Immortal! Ever fresh! Welcome, with or withoutillustration; some of Mr. THOMSON's would not be missed. " There is a breezy, frank, boyish air about the "Reminiscences" ofour great Baritone, CHARLES SANTLEY, which is as a tonic--a tonicsol-fa--to the reader a-weary of the many Reminiscences of theselatter days. SANTLEY, who seems to have made his way by stolid pluck, and without very much luck, may be considered as the musical _MarkTapley_, ready to look always on the sunny side. With a few rareexceptions, he appears to have taken life very easily. Muchly doth the Baron like Mr. HALL CAINE's story of _Captain Davy'sHoneymoon_, only, short as it is, with greater effect it might havebeen shorter. The Baron, being in a reading humour, tried _The Veiled Hand_, byFREDERICK WICKS, a name awkward for anyone unable to manage his "r's. "What Fwedewickwicks' idea of _A Veiled Hand_ is, the Baron has triedto ascertain, but without avail. Why not a Gloved Hand? Hands do notwear veils, any more than our old friends, the Hollow Hearts, wearmasks. Hands take "vails, " but "that is another story. " However, _TheVeiled Hand_ induced sleep, so the Baron extinguished both candles andWicks at the same time, and slumbered. I have also had time to read _An Exquisite Fool_, published by OSGOOD. MCILVAINE & CO. , and written by Nobody, Nobody's name beingmentioned as being the author. It begins well, but it is an old, old tale--BLANCHE AMORY and the Chevalier, and so forth--and as _SirCharles Coldstream_ observed, when he looked down the crater of MountVesuvius, "There's nothing in it. " Most interesting is a short paper on "The Green Room of the ComédieFrançaise, " in the _English Illustrated Magazine_ for this month, pleasantly written by Mr. FREDERICK HAWKINS, --HAWKINS with anaspirate, not "'ENERY 'AWKINS" at present associated with "ACHEVALIER" in London. Mr. HAWKINS tells many amusing anecdotes, andgives a capital sketch of M. RENÉ MOLÉ. But the article would bedamaged by extracts. Therefore, "_Tolle, lege_, " says yours andeverybody's, very truly, THE BARON DE BOOK-WORMS. * * * * * [Illustration: "SAFE BIND, SAFE FIND!" SERGENT-DE-VILLE. "HA, M'SIEU!--_YOU_ HAVE YOUR DYNAMITERS UNDER LOCKAND KEY! TRÈS BIEN! _KEEP_ THEM!!"] * * * * * [Illustration: WHAT ABOUT GLASS HOUSES? _First Jovial Cabby_ (_to Second Ditto_). "HI SAY, BILL, DID YER HEVERSEE SICH GUYS AS THESE 'ERE GIRLS MAKES OF THEIRSELVES? NOW, YE'DNIVER SEE A _MAN_ GO AND MAKE SUCH A RIDIK'LOUS HOBJICK OF 'ISSELF!!"] * * * * * A PUFF OF SMOKE. (_What the heart of the young Vocalist said to the Anti-Tobacconist, after reading Mr. Charles Santley's sage observations on Singing and Smoking, in his new book "Student and Singer. "_) ["Smoking is an art; it may be made useful or otherwise, according as it is exercised. "--Mr. SANTLEY. ] Tell me not, ye mournful croakers, Smoking is a dirty habit. Brainless are ye, sour non-smokers, As a vivisected rabbit. "Smoking is an Art, " says SANTLEY; There is Beauty in the bowl. They who doubt it must be scantly Blest with sense, or dowered with soul. _As_ an Art it claims attention; Study is the only way. Smoking skill, _not_ smoke-prevention, Is the thing we want to-day. Art is long and smoke is fleeting; But puff on until you learn Good tobacco's not for _eating_! Pipe-bowls are not meant to _burn_! Smoke without expectorating, Do not sputter, do not chew; Puff not as though emulating Some foul factory's sooty flue Let not oily dark defilement Sting your lips; there is no need. Joy and care need reconcilement For enjoyment of the weed. Trust no "Germans, " buy no "British, " Sound Havanas only smoke! "Lady Nicotine" is skittish, Penny Pickwicks are no joke. Smoke no strong shag, no rank "stinger, " Pick your baccy, puff with skill, And--although you are a singer, You may smoke, and not feel ill. Let us then be up and smoking, An an Art the thing pursue; As great SANTLEY, who's not joking, Says _he_ does, and all _may_ do! * * * * * LADY GAY'S DISTRACTION. DEAR MR. PUNCH, --You are as fickle as the rest of your sex, I fear, otherwise you would not have requited my devotion to you and yourinterests in such an awful manner as you did in publishing myhusband's letter last week!--and _such_ a letter! Oh, I could writesuch a _scathing_ reply to it! Of course, it was jealousy on the part of Sir CHARLES at my literarysuccess--(setting aside the _wonderful_ tips)--which caused theexplosion that led to his writing to you, but I never--never--thoughtyou would insert his letter, especially as I slipped in a postscriptwhich to my mind explained _everything_--as, indeed, postscripts_should_ do, or what is the good of writing a long letter aboutnothing in front of them? The wretch confesses that he laughed at myarticles until he knew who wrote them, and then thought less ofthem! Isn't that like a husband?--I won't say like a _man_, as so fewhusbands _are_ men!--at least, in the eyes of their wives. The momenta wife does something her husband can't do, he dislikes and pooh-poohsit; whereas, the more accomplishments a husband displays, the more awife appreciates him, or _says_ so even if she doesn't!--which is anoble falsehood, for how few women are large-minded enough to pretendto admire qualities which they despise because they don't possessthem--I'm not sure that this is what I mean, nor do I quite understandit, but it reads well, which is more than Sir CHARLES'S stuff does! And then his impertinence in proposing to "edit" my letters!--as ifanyone could be more capable of doing that than _you_?--(you willobserve that it is solely on _your_ account that I am annoyed!)--Icould not brook such interference!--I don't know exactly the meaningof "brooking" anything, but I know I wept enough tears of annoyanceto form a decent "brook" of themselves! I need hardly tell you that itwas a biting sarcasm on my part to suggest that he should finish hisletter with a "verse, " as I always do--but there--men don'tunderstand sarcasm--(one of _our_ most frequently employed weapons ofoffence!)--and the poor thing thought I was in earnest, and did it!And _what_ a verse! I could write better with my left hand! I need scarcely tell you that I have left him--(this is why my addressis not to be published)--as I consider my duty to the Public renderedit imperative that I should do so, for I should not think much of anywoman who allowed a paltry consideration of domestic obligations toweigh against the pursuit of a career of usefulness. If, therefore, a vein of sadness and cynicism runs through thisletter, you will understand that it does _not_ proceed from any regretat the "breaking up of the happy home, " but rather from sorrow at thethought that once again the intellectual superiority of one of thesofter sex has not been accepted in the right spirit by the possessorof the weaker mind, to whom she owes obedience! I trust I have done with Sir CHARLES for ever!--especially ifhe speaks the truth in saying that "following my tips has ruinedhim"--for why should any woman burden herself with an impecunioushusband? He does not know where I am, and I feel still more secure inmy retreat from having just heard that he has engaged the services ofseveral of the most prominent London Detectives to trace me! Owing no devotion now to Sir CHARLES--who will appreciate thefollowing tender lines with which I close my letter-- O woman! in our hours of ease, Thou art not _very_ hard to please! Thou takest what the gods may send; But, thwarted!--thou wilt turn and rend! I am able to subscribe myself, dear _Mr. Punch_, Yours more devotedly than ever, LADY GAY. [From internal evidence, we are inclined to believe that this presentletter, or the one last week from "Sir CHARLES, " is a forgery. Informer correspondence Lady GAY mentioned "Lord ARTHUR" as her husband. We pause for an explanation. --ED. ] * * * * * PROVERB FOR VOCALISTS, À PROPOS OF SIR JOSEPH BARNBY'S REMARKS ONARTICULATION. --"Take care of the sense, and the sounds will take careof themselves. " * * * * * Why is pepper essential to the health of the new LORD MAYOR?--Becausewithout "Kn. " (cayenne) he would be "ill. " * * * * * [Illustration: NATURE AND ART. _A. R. A. _ "BY GEORGE, THIS VIEW'S MAGNIFICENT! I SAY, FLUFFER, YOUREALLY OUGHT TO HAVE THOSE WOODS PAINTED. " _Mr. Fluffer_ (_late in the Upholstery line, retired. _) "'M--M. DO YOUTHINK THAT WOULD IMPROVE 'EM? WHAT COLOUR, NOW?"] * * * * * LEFT TO THE LADIES. MY DEAR MR. PUNCH, Everyone--I mean everyone with a right mind--will sympathise withthose nice people at Bristol who have been holding a "Woman'sConference. " So kind and thoughtful of them, isn't it? I noticethat Lady BATTERSEA gave a spirited account of a Confederationof Temperance of some thirty villages in Norfolk. The dear, goodinhabitants are to keep off the allurements of drink by "listening tosuch shining lights as Canon WILBERFORCE, and social teas, processionswith banners, and magic-lanterns, play their part. " How they areto listen to the teas, processions and lanterns, I don't quiteunderstand, in spite of the fact that they (the aforesaid teas, &c. )seem to be "playing their parts. " Evidently teas, &c. , are amateurActors. Then somebody who described herself as "a nobody from nowhere, " issaid to have "touched a moving chord, as she spoke with great feelingof the sympathy and the moral help the poor give back to those whowork among them. " What "moving chord?" Sounds like a bell-rope! Then another lady who wore "the black and lavender dress of theSisters of the People, " followed with a paper, "perhaps overfullof details. " And here let me say that I am quoting from "a womancorrespondent" who seems to be full of admiration for her talkingsisters. But in spite of this admiration, she knows their littlefaults. For instance, she describes a speech as "vigorous, racy, andperhaps a trifle sensational. " Then, when someone else delivered an"address to educated mothers, " she says that it excited deep interest, and "almost too many educated mothers threw themselves into thediscussion that followed. " Then she observes, "It was disappointing that Lady ABERDEEN was at thelast moment forbidden by her Doctor to undertake the long journey fromScotland. " So it was, most disappointing; and "at the last moment, "too! Then she announces that "Some ladies expressed a feeling, thatintroducing young men and women in business to each other, whenassembled in their hundreds at Prince's Hall, was an office fraughtwith considerable responsibility. " To be sure! Great responsibility!Might even be improper! Everyone should be _so_ careful! However, there was one good thing in this Woman's Conference thateveryone will praise. The delightful, genial, charitable females seemto have kept to themselves. No men were present. What a blessing--_forthe men_! Yours gratefully, AN OLD BACHELOR. _The Growleries, Lostbuttonbury, Singleton_. * * * * * CHRISTMAS IS COMING! [Illustration] When the ruddy autumn leaves Flutter down on golden sheaves, And on plum-trees one perceives No more plums-- All the swallows have not fled, Hardly is the summer dead-- Then, alas, it must be said Christmas comes! Christmas! Hang it all! But how Can that be? 'Tis weeks from now. What a fearful thought, I vow That it numbs! "Order Christmas papers" fills Bookshops, bookstalls. With its bills, Taxes, tips, fogs, frosts, coughs, chills, Christmas comes! Even Christmas-cards appear, They are with us half the year, I would banish them from here, Say, to Thrums, Or to any mournful place, Where I'd never show my face, For they tell one that, apace, Christmas comes! * * * * * SEASONABLE CHRISTMAS MOTTO FOR WELL-KNOWN FINE-ART PUBLISHERS. --"TUCKin!" * * * * * [Illustration: FOOTBALL FEVER. SATURDAY AFTERNOON IN THE MIDLANDS. ] * * * * * TO "THE LAZY MINSTREL" _On the publication of his Eighth Edition, with therein Nineteen Poems originally written for Mr. Punch. _ [Illustration: The Lazy Laureate of the Thames. ] Who would not be a Minstrel Lazy? A trifle crazy, The best of them! Ah! Here's ASHBY STERRY, in punt or wherry, He's ever merry! sing "hey down derry, " Or anything very Like Tra! la! la! la! On sunny days he trolls his lays With gay guitar and Tra! la! la! la! From groves and glades come meadow-sweet maids, None of your saucy minxes or jades; The poet is there Without a care. With no regret, with mild cigarette. With gay guitar, and whiskey from Leith, Will he be crowned with the Laureate wreath? (_The Nymph Pantalettina is heard singing_. ) Come where my ASHBY lies dreaming, Dreaming for hours after lunch. Softly! for he is scheming Poems for _Mister Punch_! Graceful is his position-- Hark! how he sweeps the strings, While of his Eighth Edition The Warbler STERRY sings:-- (_The Bard chirpeth his roundelay_. ) "On 'Spring's Delights' in 'Hambledon Lock' 'My Country Cousin' may hap-- With her I'll go 'In Rotten Row, ' Stop on an 'oss 'At Charing-Cross, ' For a 'Tam O'Shanter Cap. ' No gout? Oh no! But I'm 'Taken in Tow, ' And suffering from dejection, 'Spring Cleaning' I'll use for a pair of old shoes (Queer rhyme upon reflection), 'Sound without Sense, ' I've no pretence, To write Shakspearian Sonnets. Of her and him, As suits my whim, I sing, and I hymn her bonnets!" (_Chorus of Pantalettina and River Nymphs. _) So, hail to the Bard so merry, To Lazy Laureate STERRY! He'll sing of a Lock on the Thames! oh rare! Or hymn a Lock of his Lady's hair. * * * * * CONVERSATIONAL HINTS FOR YOUNG SHOOTERS. The subject of Lunch, my dear young friends, has now been exhausted. We have done, for the time, with poetry, and descend again to theordinary prose of every-day shooting. Yet stay--before we proceedfurther, there is one matter apart from the mere details of sport, which may be profitably considered in this treatise. It is the divine, the delightful subject of SMOKING. First, I ask, do you know--(1), the man who never smokes from thenight of the 11th of August up to the night of the 1st of February inthe following year, for fear of injuring his sight and his shootingnerve? (2), the host who forbids all smoking amongst the guestsassembled at his house for a shooting-party? You, naturally enough, reply that you have not the honour of beingacquainted with these severe, but enthusiastic gentlemen. Nobody doesknow them. They don't exist. But it is very useful to affect a sort ofsecond-hand knowledge of these Gorgons of the weed, as thus:-- _A Party of Guns is walking to the first beat of the day. Time, say about_ 10·20 A. M. _Young Sportsman_ (_who has a pipe in his mouth, to Second Sportsman, similarly adorned_). I always think the after-breakfast smoke is aboutthe best of the day. Somehow, tobacco tastes sweeter then than at anyother time of the day. _Second Sp. _ (_puffing vigorously_). Yes, it's first class; but I holdwith smoke at most times of the day, after breakfast, after lunch, after dinner, and in between. _Young Sp. _ Well, I don't know. If I try to smoke when I'm actuallyshooting, I generally find I've got my pipe in the gun side of mymouth. I heard of a man the other day who knocked out three of hisbest teeth through bringing up his gun sharp, and forgetting he'dgot a pipe in his mouth. Poor beggar! he was very plucky about it, I believe; but it made no end of a difference to his pronunciationtill he got a new lot shoved in. Just like that old Johnnie in theplay--Overland something or other--who lost his false set of teethon a desert island, and couldn't make any of the other Johnniesunderstand him. _Second Sp. _ I've never had any difficulty with my smoking. I alwaysmake a habit of carrying my smokes in the left side of my mouth. _Young Sp. _ Oh, but you're pretty certain to get the smoke or theashes or something, blown slap into your eyes just as you're going toloose off. No. (_With decision_. ) I'm off my smoke when the poppingbegins. _Second Sp. _ Don't be too hard on yourself, my boy. They tell me thereare precious few birds in the old planting this year, so you can treatyourself to a cigarette when you get there. It never pays to trampleon one's longing for tobacco too much. _Young Sp. _ No, by Jove. Old REGGIE MORRIS told me of a fellow he metsomewhere this year, who goes regularly into training for shooting. Never touches baccy from August to February, and limits his drinkto three pints a day, and no whiskeys and sodas. And what's more, hewon't let any of his guests smoke when he's got a shoot on, He's got"No Smoking" posted up in big letters in every room in the house. REGGIE said it was awful. He had to lock his bedroom door, shove thechest-of-drawers against it, and smoke with his head stuck right upthe chimney. He got a peck of soot, one night, right on the top of hisnut. Now I call that simple rot. _Second Sp. _ Ah, I've heard of that man. Never met him though, I'mthankful to say. Let me see what's the beggar's name? JACKSON orBARRETT, or POLLARD, or something like that. He's got a big placesomewhere in Suffolk, or Yorkshire, or somewhere about there. _Young Sp. _ Yes, that's the chap, I fancy. Now that kind of thing starts you very nicely for the day. It isn'tnecessary that either of the sportsmen whose dialogue has beenreported should believe implicitly in the absolute truth of what he issaying. Observe, neither of them says that he himself met this man. He merely gets conversation out of him on the strength of what someoneelse has told him. That, you see, is the real trick of the thing. Don't bind yourself to such a story as being part of your own personalexperience. Work it in on another man's back. Of course there areexceptions even to this rule. But this question I shall be able totreat at greater length when I come to deal with the important subjectof "Shooting Anecdotes. " [Illustration] Very often you can work up quite a nice little conversation oncigarettes. Every man believes, as is well-known, that he possessesthe only decent cigarettes in the country. He either--(1), importsthem himself from Cairo, or (2), he gets his tobacco straight froma firm of growers somewhere in Syria and makes it into cigaretteshimself; or (3), he thinks Egyptian cigarettes are an abomination, and only smokes Russians or Americans; or (4), he knows a man, BACKASTOPOULO by name, somewhere in the Ratcliffe Highway, whohas _the_ very best cigarettes you ever tasted. You wouldn't givetwo-pence a hundred for any others after smoking these, he tells you. And, lastly, there is the man who loathes cigarettes, despises thosewho smoke them, and never, smokes anything himself except a specialkind of cigar ornamented with a sort of red and gold garter. Out of this conflict of preferences the young shooter can makecapital. By flattering everybody in turn, he can practically get hissmoking gratis, for everyone will be sure to offer him at least onecigarette, in order to prove the superiority of his own particularkind. And if the young shooter, after smoking it, expresses a properamount of ecstasy, he is not at all unlikely to have a second offeredto him. Most men are generous with cigarettes. Many a man I knowwould far rather give a beggar a cigarette than a shilling, thoughthe cigarette may have cost, originally, a penny-halfpenny, or more--astrange and paradoxical state of affairs. Here is a final piece of advice. Admire all cigarette-cases, and sayof each that it's the very best and prettiest you ever saw. You canhave no notion how much innocent pleasure you will give. * * * * * 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. .