The Project Gutenberg eBook, Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 99, July 19, 1890, by Various, Edited by F. C. Burnand

E-text prepared by Malcolm Farmer, William Flis,
and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team

PUNCH,
OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

Vol. 99.

July 19, 1890.

OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.

PARALLEL.

The Baron has read OSCAR WILDE'S Wildest and Oscarest work, called Dorian Gray, a weird sensational romance, complete in one number of Lippincott's Magazine. The Baron, recommends anybody who revels in diablerie, to begin it about half-past ten, and to finish it at one sitting up; but those who do not so revel he advises either not to read it at all, or to choose the daytime, and take it in homoeopathic doses. The portrait represents the soul of the beautiful Ganymede-like Dorian Gray, whose youth and beauty last to the end, while his soul, like JOHN BROWN'S, "goes marching on" into the Wilderness of Sin. It becomes at last a devilled soul. And then Dorian sticks a knife into it, as any ordinary mortal might do, and a fork also, and next morning

"Lifeless but 'hideous' he lay,"

while the portrait has recovered the perfect beauty which it possessed when it first left the artist's easel. If OSCAR intended an allegory, the finish is dreadfully wrong. Does he mean that, by sacrificing his earthly life, Dorian Gray atones for his infernal sins, and so purifies his soul by suicide? "Heavens! I am no preacher," says the Baron, "and perhaps OSCAR didn't mean anything at all, except to give us a sensation, to show how like BULWER LYTTON'S old-world style he could make his descriptions and his dialogue, and what an easy thing it is to frighten the respectable Mrs. Grundy with a Bogie." The style is decidedly Lyttonerary. His aphorisms are Wilde, yet forced. Mr. OSCAR WILDE says of his story, "it is poisonous if you like, but you cannot deny that it is also perfect, and perfection is what we artists aim at." Perhaps; but "we artists" do not always hit what we aim at, and, despite his confident claim to unerring artistic marksmanship, one must hazard the opinion, that in this case Mr. WILDE has "shot wide." There is indeed more of "poison" than of "perfection" in Dorian Gray. The central idea is an excellent, if not exactly novel, one; and a finer art, say that of NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE, would have made a striking and satisfying story of it. Dorian Gray is striking enough, in a sense, but it is not "satisfying" artistically, any more than it is so ethically. Mr. WILDE has preferred the sensuous and hyperdecorative manner of "Mademoiselle DE MAUPIN," and without GAUTIER'S power, has spoilt a promising conception by clumsy unideal treatment. His "decoration" (upon which he plumes himself) is indeed "laid on with a trowel." The luxuriously elaborate details of his "artistic hedonism" are too suggestive of South Kensington Museum and æsthetic Encyclopædias. A truer art would have avoided both the glittering conceits, which bedeck the body of the story, and the unsavoury suggestiveness which lurks in its spirit. Poisonous! Yes. But the loathly "leperous distilment" taints and spoils, without in any way subserving "perfection," artistic or otherwise. If Mrs. Grundy doesn't read it, the younger Grundies do; that is, the Grundies who belong to Clubs, and who care to shine in certain sets wherein this story will be much discussed. "I have read it, and, except for the ingenious idea, I wish to forget it," says the Baron.

The Baron has seen the new, lively, and eccentric newspaper, entitled The Whirlwind. It has reached the third number. "I am informed," says the Baron, "that, on payment of five guineas down, I can become a life-subscriber to the Whirlwind. But what does life-subscriber mean? Do I subscribe for the term of my life, or for the term of the Whirlwind's life? Suppose the Whirlwind has to be wound up, or whirl-winded up, and suppose I am still going on, can I intervene to stop the proceedings, and insist on my contract to be supplied with a Whirlwind per week for the remainder of my natural or unnatural life being carried out? If the contract is for our lives, then, as a life-subscriber, I should insist on the Whirlwind remaining co-existent with me, so that, up to my latest breath, I might have a Whirlwind. But if the life-subscription of five guineas is only for the term of the Whirlwind's life, then, I fancy the proprietors, editor, and staff, that the Hon. STUART ERSKINE and Mr. HERBERT VIVIAN, who are, I believe, the Proprietors, Editor, and Staff of the Whirlwind, will have by far the better of the bargain. I resist the temptation, and keep my five pounds five shillings in my pocket, and am

"Yours truly, THE BARON DE BOOK-WORMS.

OUR NEW ADVERTISEMENT COLUMN.

[All applications in answer to be addressed to the office of this journal, accompanied by handsome P.O.O, and lots of shilling stamps, which will in every case be retained, without acknowledgment, as a guarantee of good faith.]

URGENT CASE.—WANTED, by a little Boy, aged 10, of thoroughly disagreeable temper, selfish, greedy, ill-mannered, and thoroughly spoilt at home, a good sound Whipping, weekly, if possible. Great care will be necessary on the part of applicant in fulfilling requirements, parents of youth in question, being firmly convinced that he is a noble little fellow, with a fine manly spirit, just what his dear Papa was at his age (as is very probably the case) and only requiring peculiarly gentle and considerate treatment.—Apply (in first instance, by letter) to Godfather, care of Mr. Punch.

TO PARENTS AND GUARDIANS,—affectionate but practical-minded, and anxious to find economical homes (somewhere else) for young gentlemen who cannot get on without expensive assistance at starting in Mother country, owing to excessive competition in laborious and over-crowded professions. A firm of enterprising Agents offer bracing and profitable occupation (coupled with the use gratis, of two broken spades, an old manure-cart, and an axe without a handle) in a peculiarly romantic and unhealthy district in the backwoods of West-Torrida. Photograph, if desired, of Agent's residence (distant several hundred miles away.) Excellent opening for young men fresh from first-class public school or college-life: who should, of course, be prepared to "rough it" a little before making competence or large fortune, by delightful pursuit of agriculture. No restrictive civilisation. No drains. Excellent supply of water and heavy floods as a rule, during three months of year, bringing on Spring crops without expense of irrigation. Very low death-rate, most of population having recently cleared out. Small village and (horse)-doctor within twenty-five miles' ride. Wild and beautiful country. Every incentive to work. Rare poisonous reptiles, and tarantula spiders, most interesting to young observant naturalist. Capital prospect—great saving offered to careful parents anxious to set up brougham, or increase private expenses. Five boys (reduction on taking a quantity) disposed of for about £250 and outfit, with probably, no further trouble.—Address, Messrs. SHARKEY AND CRIMPIN, Colonial and Emigration Agents. &c.

CONCERTS! CONCERTS!—Amateur Comic Vocalist and impromptu "Vamper" (gentleman born) of several years' experience in best London Society, is anxious to meet with bold and speculative Manager who will offer him a first engagement. Can sing—omitting a few high notes—various popular melodies, comprising, "Aunt Sarah's Back-hair," "The Twopenny Toff of 'Ighgate 'Ill," and "Tommy Robinson's Last Cigar," and also play piano if required, with one finger, but prefers to be accompanied by indefatigable friend, who plays entirely by ear, and if allowed to smoke freely, can "pick up" any tune in a quarter of an hour. Seldom breaks down or forgets words, except before large or unsympathetic audience. Fetching comic "biz," and superlative Music-hall "chic." Would have no objection to black face and appear at evening parties, or in fashionable streets, with banjo (if provided with small police escort.) Testimonials from several highly respectable relatives, now in asylum, or under treatment at seaside.—Address, with terms, the Hon. ALGERNON BRASSLEIGH CHEEKINGTON (or at Chimpanzee Chambers in Piccadilly, W.)

SUGGESTION FOR REFORM IN PUBLIC SCHOOLS' SYSTEM.—"Absence" should be called immediately after dinner, and then each boy, instead of saying, "Here, Sir!" could reply, classically and correctly, "Adsum!" Yours truly, AN OVER-ETON BOY.

LAT. 60° 8' N. LONG. 4° 30' E.

"THE CUP THAT CHE-(HIC)-ERS!"

The Total Abstainer staggered to his feet. The room seemed to be waltzing round him, and his legs acted independently of each other. One of those legs tried to walk to the right, whilst the other moved to the left! He looked in the mirror and saw a double reflection! He had two noses, a couple of mouths, four eyes, and countless whiskers. This made him merry, and he laughed in very glee. But only for a while! Soon he became utterly depressed. Then his head ached—horribly! He tried to sleep—he could not! "Never too late—to MENDAL!" he gasped out, uttering in his extreme agitation the name of a Physician of Berlin who had made inebriety a special study.

Then his muscles became weak and trembling, his aversion to labour increased, and he had scarcely the energy or power to observe that his complexion (in patches) was ruddier than the cherry.

"Alas!" he sighed, and he succumbed permanently to persistent dyspepsia!

And what was the cause of this unfortunate, this terrible condition? Sad to say, the question was easily answered. The Total Abstainer had taken a drop too much—of Coffee!

CATCHING;

OR, HOW FAR WILL IT GO?

(Being a Forecast of the spread of the Strike Fever, from a Next Week's Diary.)

Wednesday.—All the Police, having now been replaced by Amateur Special Constables, who are as yet unfamiliar with their duties, the position of the Metropolitan Magistrates becomes impossible, and they resign in a body at five minutes' notice, causing the greatest consternation in signalling their resignation by sending every case on the charge-sheet that morning for trial to a superior Court.

Thursday.—The Judges, overwhelmed by the prospect of an unusual and quite impossible amount of extra work, demand the increase of their salaries to £10,000 per annum. On this being categorically refused by the Treasury, they then and there, on their respective Benches, severally tear off their wigs and robes, and quit their Courts "for good," with threatening gestures.

Friday.—The LORD CHANCELLOR, on being informed of the conduct of the Judges, rips open the Woolsack, scattering its contents over the floor of the House of Lords, and, denouncing the Government, throws up his post on the spot. The legal business of the country, coming thus to a deadlock, is involved in further chaos by a sudden strike of all the Members of both the Senior and Junior Bars, which is further complicated by another of every Solicitor in the three kingdoms.

Saturday.—Gatling guns being posted in the Entrance Hall, and Bow Street having been cleared by a preliminary discharge of artillery, the programme of the Royal Italian Opera for the evening is carried out, as advertised, at Covent Garden. Ladies wearing their diamonds, are conveyed to the theatre in Police Vans, surrounded by detachments of the Household Cavalry, and gentlemen's evening dress is supplemented by a six-chambered revolver, an iron-cased umbrella, a head protector, and a double-edged cut-and-thrusting broad-sword.

Sunday.—The Church having caught the prevailing fever, the entire body of the Clergy, headed by the Bishops, come out on strike, with the result that no morning, afternoon, or evening services are held anywhere. The Medical Profession takes up the idea, and, discovering a grievance, the Royal College of Surgeons issues a manifesto. All the hospitals turn out their patients, and medical men universally drop all their cases. An M.D. who is known, upon urgent pressure, to have made an official visit, is chased up and down Harley Street by a mob of his infuriated brother practitioners, and is finally nearly lynched on a lamp-post in Cavendish Square. The day closes in with a serious riot in Hyde Park, caused by the meeting of the conflicting elements of Society, who have all marched there with their bands and banners to air their respective grievances.

Monday.—The London County Council, School Board, Common Council, Court of Aldermen, and the Royal Academicians after discovering, respectively, some trifling sources of dissatisfaction, wreck their several establishments, and finally march along the Thames Embankment towards Westminster, singing, alternately, the "Marseillaise" and "Ask a Pleece-man."

Tuesday.—The House of Commons, after tossing the SPEAKER in his own gown, declare the Constitution extinct, and, abolishing the House of Lords and giving all the Foreign Ambassadors twelve hours notice to quit the country, announce their own dissolution, and immediately commence their Autumn Holiday.

Wednesday.—Railway Directors, Sweeps, Chairmen of Public Companies, Coal-Heavers, Provincial Mayors, Dentists, Travelling Circus Proprietors, Fish Contractors, Beadles, Cabinet Ministers, Street Scavengers, Dog Fanciers, Archbishops, Gas Fitters, Hereditary Legislators, Prize Fighters, Poor-Law Guardians, Lion Tamers, Green-Grocers, and many other discontented members of the community, having all joined in a universal strike, society, becomes totally disorganised, and the entire country quietly but, effectually collapses, and disappears from the European system.

SHAKSPEARE ONCE AGAIN, ADAPTED TO THE SITUATION.

(See Titus Andronicus, Act II., Sc. 1.)

Aaron (the Agitator) loquitur.—

For shame, be friends, and join for that you jar:

'Tis Union and Strikes, my lads, must do

That you affect; and so must you resolve

That what you cannot severally achieve,

United you may manage as you will.

A speedier course than lingering languishment

Must we pursue, and I have found the path.

My lads, a biggish business is in hand;

Together let brave British Bobbies troop:

The City streets are numerous and wealthy,

And many unfrequented nooks there be,

Fitted by kind for violence and theft;

But take you thence, and many a watchful ruffian

Will soon strike home, by force and not by words:

This way, or not at all, stand you in hope.

Come, come, our comrades, with more sluggish wit,

To vigilance and duty consecrate,

Will we acquaint with all that we intend,

And we will so commit them to our cause

That they cannot stand off or "square" themselves;

But to your wishes' height you'll all advance.

The City's courts have houses of ill-fame,

Town's palaces are full of wanton wealth,

The slums are ruthless, ravenous ripe for crime.

Then speak, and strike, brave boys, and take your turn!

INFELICITOUS QUOTATIONS.

Fair Authoress. "SO SORRY TO BE SO LATE. I'M AFRAID I'M LAST!"

Genial Host. "'LAST—BUT NOT LEAST!'"

SONG SENTIMENTIANA.

(A delightful "All-the-Year-Sound" Resort for the Fashionable Composer.)

EXAMPLE V.—Of the transformative powers of Love, under condition of Proximity.

When thou art near, the hemisphere

Commissioned to surround me,

(As well as you,) is subject to

Some changes that astound me.

Where'er I look I seem mistook;

All objects—what, I care not—

At once arrange to make a change

To something that they were not!

When thou art near, love,

Strange things occur—

Thickness is clear, love,

Clearness a blur.

Penguins are weasels,

Cheap things are dear,

"Jumps" are but measles

When thou art near!

When thou art close, the doctor's dose

Is quite a decent tonic.

Thy presence, too, makes all things new,

And five-act plays laconic.

And, with thee by, the earth's the sky,

And your "day out" is my day,

While tailors' bills are daffodils,

And Saturday is Friday!

When thou art here, love,

Just where you are,

Far things are near, love,

Near things are far.

Beef-tea is wine, love,

Champagne is beer,

Wet days are fine, love,

When thou art near.

Without you stand quite close at hand,

A broker is a broker;

But stick by me, and then he'll be

A very pleasant joker!

Without thee by, a lie's a lie—

The truth is nought but truthful.

But by me stay, and night is day—

And even you are youthful

When thou art near, love,—

Not, love, unless,—

Thick soup is clear, love,

Football is chess.

IRVINGS are TOOLES, love,

Tadpoles are deer,

Wise men are fools, love,

When thou art near!

When KENNEDY fell out of his boat at Henley, his antagonist, PSOTTA, magnanimously waited for him to get in again. He must be a good Psotta chap.

LOST OPPORTUNITIES.—Last Tuesday week the members of the Incorporated Cain-and-Abel-Authors' Society lost a great treat when Mr. GEORGE AUGUSTUS lost a indignantly refused to take his seat "below the salt," and walked out without making the speech with which his name was associated on the toast-list. But, on the other hand, what a big chance Orator GEORGE AUGUSTUS lost of coming out strong in opposition, and astonishing the Pen-and-Inkorporated ones with a few stirring remarks, in his most genial vein, on the brotherhood of Authors, and their appreciation of distinguished services in the field of Literature. It was an opportunity, too, for suggesting "Re-distribution of Seats."

TO MRS. H.M. STANLEY.

The merry bells do naught but ring,

The streets are gay with flag and pennant,

The birds more sweetly seem to sing—

A Heart to Let has found a TENNANT!

No more will HENRY MORTON roam,

Nor from your charms away for long go,

But, honeymooning here at home,

Forget he ever saw the Congo!

To Oxford 'twas your husband went—

The stately home of Don and Proctor—

Where, 'mid the deafening cheers that rent

The air, he straight became a Doctor.

As one whose valour none can shake,

We've sung him in a thousand ditties,

And freedoms too we've made him take

Of goodness knows how many cities!

Yet while to honour and to praise

With one another we've been vying,

Has he not told us for the days

Of rest to come he ne'er ceased sighing?

And when, with pomp of high degree,

Your marriage vows and troth you plighted,

Why, everyone was glad to see

Art and Adventure thus united!

"To those about to Marry.—Don't!"

So Mr. Punch did once advise us.

Spread the advice? I'm sure you won't.

A course which hardly need surprise us.

O lovely wife of one we think

Above all others brave and manly,

We clink our glasses as we drink

Long life and health to Mrs. STANLEY!

THE ANGLO-GERMAN CONCERTINA.

"I confess I was not at all prepared for the feelings that some South Africans appear to entertain with respect to our conduct in the recent negotiations"—Lord Salisbury to the Deputation of African Merchants respecting the proposed Anglo-German Agreement.

I fancied that this Instrument

Would make a great sensation

And that its music would content

The critics and the nation,

I know it is what vulgar folks

Christen the "Constant-screamer;"

I thought you'd scorn such feeble jokes;

It seems I was a dreamer.

You writhe your lips, you close your ears!

Dear me! Such conduct tries me.

You do not like it, it appears

Well, well,—you do surprise me!

'Tis not, I know, the Jingo drum,

Nor the "Imperial" trumpet.

(The country to their call won't come,

However much you stump it.)

They're out of fashion; 'tis not now

As in the days of "BEAKEY."

People dislike the Drum's tow-row.

And call the Trumpet squeaky.

So I the Concertina try,

As valued friends advise me.

What's that you say? It's all my eye?

Well, well,—you do surprise me!

I fancied you would like it much,

You and the other fellows.

Admire the tone, remark my touch!

And what capacious bellows!

'Tis not as loud as a trombone,

But harmony's not rumpus;

The chords are charming, and you'll own

It has a pretty compass.

I swing like this, I sway like that!

Fate a fine theme supplies me!

The "treatment" you think feeble, flat?

Well, well—you do surprise me!

The "European Concert"? Grand!

(You recollect that term, man!)

This is a Concertina, and

It's make is Anglo-German,

You can't expect the thing to be

English alone, completely;

But really, as 'tis played by me.

Does it not sound most sweetly?

Humph! DONALD CURRIE cocks his nose,

BECKETT disdainfully eyes me,

My Concertina you would—close!

Well, well—you do surprise me!

WEEK BY WEEK.

Scarcely a day passes without bringing us nearer to the end of the year. That is a melancholy reflection, but we are not sure that it exhausts all the possibilities of misery latent in the flight of time. It has been noticed, for instance, that the Duke of X——, whose sporting proclivities are notorious, never fails to celebrate his birthday with a repast at an inferior restaurant, and, as His Grace is powerful, his friends suffer in silence and bewail his increasing ducal age.

Henley Regatta came off as arranged. This is a peculiarity which is very striking in connection with this Royal fixture. We are informed that several certainties were upset, but by whom and why has not been stated. Candidly speaking, such a brutal method as "upsetting" consorts ill with the softer manners of our time. On the Thames, too, it must be extraordinarily disagreeable.

Mrs. WEEDLE, the Hon. Mrs. THREADBARE, and Lady FAWN, have joined the lately established Bureau for the Dissemination of Fashionable Friendships. The Personal Advertising Department is now open, and is daily filled with a distinguished crowd of applicants. Arrangements are in process of completion for supplying the deserving rich with cambric handkerchiefs, and imitation diamonds, at nominal prices.

A well-known Actor has lately been deprived of his customary allowance of fat. His loss of weight (in avoirdupois) has been computed at five-sixteenths of the integral cubit of a patent accumulator's vertical boiling power, divided by the fractional resistance of a plate-glass window to a two-horse-power catapult.

The weather has been variable, with cryptoconchoidal deflections of a solid reverberating isobar previously tested in a solution of zinc and soda-water. This indicates cold weather in December next.

Consols 1/50094th better. Wheat in demand. Jute firm. Bank rate too fast to last.

A Politician, whose name has been frequently mentioned during the late crisis, has stated it as his opinion that a temperance orator's powers of persuasion are to a moral victory as a Prime Minister is to a willow-pattern dinner-plate. The remark caused much excitement in the lobby, where this gentleman's humorous sallies never lack appreciators.

What is this I hear of a certain Noble Duke, well-known in sporting circles, having accepted a three months' engagement to appear in a "comic character sketch of his own composition," at a long-established East End-Music Hall? If there is any truth in the rumour, I should like to ask what the Duchess has been about?

A distinguished Oxford Mathematical Professor has, just after prolonged and patient research, established the undoubted certainty of the following interesting facts beyond any possible question or controversy:—That the quantity of Almond Rock Hard Bake, consumed in the United Kingdom in the year terminating on the 15th of May last, amounted to 17 lbs. 9 oz. for each member of the population, including women and children. That if at all the old and discarded Chimney Pot Hats for a like period were collected in a heap, and packed closely together, they would fill a building twice the height of St. Paul's, and three times the length of the Crystal Palace. That winners of the Derby who have become eventually four-wheeler cab-horses are ninety-six in number, but that there is only one authentic instance of a four-wheeler cab-horse having become a Derby winner.

So great is the craze for the newest idea in locomotion that it is calculated that including Duchesses no less than 1470 grandes dames whose names are well-known in Society, now pass Piccadilly Circus on the outside of the London General Omnibus Company's vehicles, between the hours of 8 A.M. and 10 P.M. daily.

A PASSPORT TO THE BEST SOCIETY, AND A GUARANTEE FOR RESPECTABILITY, is to be a diligent student of Mr. Punch's works, and to have earned the abuse of the Pall-Mall Gazette.

THE OPERA-GOER'S DIARY.

Monday.—Les Huguenots. Great night in consequence of police strike in Bow Street. Rioting, and Life Guards called out late, just as they were retiring for the night. Down they came, in regimentals, in undress, anyhow, to quell the disturbance. At least, such is the report inside the house. But inconvenient to be in two places at once. Henceforth they ought to record this incident by having an extinguisher (typical of going to bed and also of quelling the row) slung on to their breast-plates. Extinguisher clinking against armour would make pretty noise. Their Royal Highnesses the Prince and Princess of WALES, having come to enjoy the Opera, remain undisturbed, and leave in perfect tranquillity. Excellent example to perturbed audience. Excitement within the house. DRURIOLANUS, Earl DE GREY, Mr. HIGGINS, and other members of the Organising Operatic Committee, ready to charge the mob at a moment's notice, to charge up to two guineas a stall, if necessary. Not necessary, however. Calls for the Sheriff-elect. DRURIOLANUS, not having the official costume ready, cannot appear in it, but uses his authority and his persuasive powers in clearing lobbies, saloons, and hall. At any moment he is ready to march out with all the Huguenot soldiers and charge the rioters. Peace restored about midnight, Household troops sent home to bed, and constables decided to strike only on the heads of roughs, rowdies, and burglars. This shows how useful it is to have a Sheriff on the premises. At Her Majesty's last winter they had the nearest approach to it, that is, Sheriff's officers on the premises. But this is not precisely the same thing, as Sheriff's officers wear no uniform, and not being permitted to go out of a house when once it is given into their custody, they, however valiant, are of no use in a crowd.

Tuesday.—Lohengrin. Regardless of rioters, their Royal Highnesses again here. Much cheered outside on driving away. Yet crowd in Strand (so we hear) not particularly good-tempered, and have wrecked a private brougham or two. No effect on Opera, which goes as well as ever. Rumours that the player of the grosse caisse has struck at rehearsal are confirmed, he appears in his place and strikes again, so does the Shakspearian performer "Cymbaline."

Wednesday.—Don Giovanni. ZÉLIE DE LUSSAN as Zerlina, very popular. Still a little too like Carmen in appearance. LASSALLE can't be bettered. Great night everywhere. Mlle. MELBA and Mr. EDOUARD DE RESZKÉ taking a little holiday at a concert in Grosvenor Square, where also are Madame PATEY and another EDWARD yclept LLOYD, whom HERR GANZ accompanies with his "Sons of Tubal Cain"—no political allusion to the recent Barrow Election. Opera comparatively full. Some habitués look in to see how everything's going on, then go on themselves to Reception in Piccadilly, At Homes elsewhere, M.P.Q.'s Smoking Concert, and various other entertainments. Society winding itself up brilliantly. "Rebellion's dead! and now we'll go to supper." And so we do. "Again we come to the Savoy!"

Thursday.—Lucia off-night, but everything and everybody "going on" as usual. H.R.H. again at Opera.

Friday.—La Favorita. Breathing time before the great Operatic event of week to-morrow night.

Saturday.—Esmeralda. Too late at last moment to say anything on this splendid subject, save that the Composer was deservedly greeted with a storm—of applause!

PURELY A MATTER OF BISLEYNESS.

PRIVATE R. VAN WINKLE opened his eyes, and, taking up his rusty rifle, marched towards the new ranges.

"Dear me!" said he, gazing with amazement at his surroundings, "this is not at all like what I saw when I went to sleep."

"No, RIP, it is not," replied Mr. Punch, who happened to be in the neighbourhood. He had been watching his sweetest Princess making a bull's-eye at the opening ceremony.

"Why, it is twice as large as Wimbledon," continued the astounded warrior.

"You are well within the limit," the Sage assented, "and see, there is plenty of space. No fear of damaging any of the tenants of GEORGE RANGER in this part of the country."

"No, indeed!" exclaimed Private VAN WINKLE. "Not that I think His Royal Highness had much cause of complaint. The truth is—"

"Let bygones be bygones," interrupted Mr. Punch. "GEORGE RANGER is no longer your landlord, except, in a certain sense, representing the interests of the Regular Army, and I shall keep my eye upon him in that capacity."

"An entirely satisfactory arrangement. But where are the fancy tents, and the luncheon parties, and all the etceteras that used to be so pleasant at Wimbledon?"

"Disappeared," returned Mr. Punch, firmly. "Bisley is to be more like Shoeburyness (where the Artillery set an excellent example to the Infantry) than the Surrey saturnalia."

"And is it to be all work and no play?"

"That will be the general idea. Of course, in the evening, when nothing better can be done, there will be harmonic meetings round the camp-fires. But while light lasts, the crack of the rifle and the ping of the bullet will be heard in all directions, vice the pop of champagne corks superseded. And if you don't like the prospect, my dear RIP, you had better go to sleep again."

But Private VAN WINKLE remained awake—to his best interests!

ROBERT ON MATRIMONY.

Well, we're jest about going it, at the reel "Grand Hotel," we are. We had jest about the werry lovliest wedding here, larst week, as I ewer seed, ewen with my great xperiense. Such a collekshun of brave-looking men and reel handsum women as seldom meets together xcept on these most hintresting occashuns. And as good luck wood have it, jest as we was in the werry wirl and xcitement of it all, who should come in to lunch but the same emminent yung Swell as cum about a munth ago. And he had jest the same helegant but simple lunch as before, with a bottle of the same splendid Champane, as before, and he didn't harf finish it, as before, and not a drop of what he left was wasted, as before; and so, when he paid me his little account, he arsked me if many of the werry bewtifool ladies, as I had told him of when he came larst, had been to the "Grand" lately, so the bold thort seized, me, and I says to him, "Yes, your —— ——, there's jest a nice few of 'em here now, and if you will kindly foller me up to our bewtifool Libery, and will keep your eyes quite wide open as you gos along, you will see jest about a hole room full of 'em."

So I took him parst the grand room in which the Wedding Gests was assembled, and there sure enuff, he seed such a collection of smiling bewty, as ewidently made a great impression on his—— ——'s Art, and one speshally lovely Bridesmade gave him a look, as he passed by, as ewidently went rite thro it. I scarcely xpecs to be bleeved wen I says, as his —— ——'s cheeks quite blusht with hadmirashun, and he turned round to me and says, says he, "Ah, Mr. ROBERT, if there was many such reel lovely angels as that a flying about, I rayther thinks as I shood be perswaded to turn a Bennedictus myself." I didn't at all know what he meant, but I thort as it was werry credittable to him. We got quite a chatting arterwards in the Libery, of course I don't mean to say as I forgot for a moment the strornary difference atween us, but he had werry ewidently been werry much struck by the lovely Bridesmade, for he says, "Mr. ROBERT," says he, "what's about the rite time for a man to marry?"

Of course I was reglar staggered, but I pulls myself together, and I says, without not no hesitashun, "Jest a leetle under 30, your —— ——, for the Gent, and jest a leetle over 20 for the Lady, and then the Gent gits just about 10 years advantage, which I thinks as he's well entitled to." At which he larfs quite hartily, and he says, "Why that wood keep me single for another ten years—but I will think it over;" and, strange to say, jest as we passed again by the room as the Bridal party was in, the same lovely Bridesmade happend to be near the door, so they coud both have a good look at each other, and a hansum cupple they was, if ever I seed one. And when his —— —— wished me good day, which he did, quite in a frendly way, he added, with his most bewtifool smile, "Ten years, MR. ROBERT, seems a long time to wait for such a sweet angel as that!"

Ah, it's a rum world as we all lives in, and in nothink much rummer than in the wunderfool power of a bewtifool face, ah, and as sumbody says, for Wheel or for Wo, jest as it appens, more's the pitty.

I rayther thinks, as I gathers from the tork of the many yung swells as we has dining here, that they are not altogether what I shoud call a marrying race; they seems to think as there's allers plenty of time for that sollem seremony when they're a good deal older.

Ah, of course it isn't for a poor old Hed Waiter to presume to adwise young and hemenent swells, but my xperiense of uman life teaches me, as the werry werry appiest time of a man's life is from 30 to about 40, perwided as he has been lucky enuff to secure for hisself a yung, bewtifool, good-tempered, helegant, and ercomplished Bride, to, as the Poet says, harve his sorrows, and dubble his joys.

ROBERT.

WHAT OUR ARTIST (THE ILLUSTRATOR) HAS TO PUT UP WITH.

Fair Authoress. "AND, FOR THE FRONTISPIECE, I WANT YOU TO DRAW THE HEROINE STANDING PROUDLY ERECT BY THE SEASHORE, GAZING AT THE STILL IMAGE OF HERSELF IN THE TROUBLED WAVES. THE SUN IS SETTING; IN THE EAST THE NEW MOON IS RISING—A THIN CRESCENT. HER FACE IS THICKLY VEILED; AN UNSHED TEAR IS GLISTENING IN HER BLUE EYE; HER SLENDER, WHITE, JEWELLED HANDS ARE CLENCHED INSIDE HER MUFF. THE CURLEWS ARE CALLING, UNSEEN—"

F.A.'s Husband. "YES; DON'T FORGET THE CURLEWS—THEY COME IN CAPITALLY! I CAN LEND YOU A STUFFED ONE, YOU KNOW—TO DRAW FROM!" &c., &c., &c., &c., &c.

THE LYING SPIRIT.

The Lying Spirit! "Doctrine hard!" some mutter,

Dictated by unsympathetic scorn;

A doctrine that on light would draw the shutter,

And close the opening gateways of the morn.

No so; no guiding light would Punch extinguish,

Or chill true champion of the toiling crowd;

But wisdom at its kindliest must distinguish