PUNCH'S ALMANACK FOR 1890
December 5th, 1889

LINLEY. SAMBOURNE. INVENT^R. ET. DEL^R. NOVEMBER 1889

FIFTY YEARS AGO.

To Paris in Thirty-Six Hours. First, Second, and Third Class Grande Vitesse.

FIFTY YEARS HENCE.

From London to Paris in—just time enough to allow of a comfortable Lunch and a quiet Cigar on board the Electric Plate-Glass Club Express.

MR. PUNCH'S TOUR ROUND THE WORLD.

"Mr. Punch," said poor old Eighty-Nine, who was growing feebler and feebler, "I am uneasy in my mind."

"Didn't know you had one," replied the Sage. "But what do you want with me?"

"You have been a great comfort to me—a very great comfort. I wish you would do something for my successor."

"What, Young Ninety? Well, I will keep a friendly eye upon him also."

"Yes, do. But I want you to begin at once. Help him through his life, as you have helped me."

"Why, certainly," said Mr. Punch, smiling. "All he will have to do will be, to put in an appearance with threepence at 85, Fleet Street, every Wednesday."

"But can't you give him a start off? Why not look round the world, and give him the result of your journey in the Almanack? Let him be remembered in the future as commencing with the Christmas of the 'Extra Extra,' as I shall be recalled in the coming ages as the year in which the Punch Staff went to Paris."

"How is it to be done?" asked the Sage.

"How is it to be done?" echoed poor old Eighty-Nine. "Why you have only to wish, and it is done! You know that your wishes are those which must be obeyed."

So, to oblige the fast-fading year, Mr. Punch wished himself in France. There he was in a moment! He had landed at Dieppe without undergoing the tortures of the steam-boat passage.

On the beach was seated a melancholy-looking tourist, who commenced, as Mr. Punch approached him, a weird nautical song, to the accompaniment of a concertina.
It ran as follows:—

THE LAY OF THE CHANNEL-PASSAGE SALT.

Ho! Yeho, Boys! Yeho! I'm no craven,

When you set me in face of the sea;

Be it Folkestone—or even Newhaven,

That I hail from, it's all one to me;

For I take up my post by the funnel,

And I reck not which way the winds blow;

And I scorn thoughts of bridge or of tunnel

As I start, singing Ho, boys! yeho!

But who drops a hint about going below?

Why, he'll see I've the knack, boys,

Just like every true Jack, boys,

Of paying my fare with a "Ho, boys! Yeho!"

We have scarcely left port, yet, already,

All my nautical visions grow blurred;

If I move,—well, I feel so unsteady,

That I half wish that I had not stirred.

Weakly smiling, I turn to the steward,

And inquire if he thinks it will blow;

He just gazes to windward and leeward,

And replies, "You'd best get down below."

But no! I'm not thinking of going down below,

Though I'm not easy here,

And I own I feel queer,

I'm equal, as yet, to a modest Yeho!

Well, 'tis over! At truth no use blinking!

Face that passage again? Oh! I daren't!

Through the first half I feared we were sinking,—

Through the second I feared that we weren't!

Though gin, chloral, stout, brandy, and "bitter,"

I tried all in turns, but to find them no go,

Still, in voice for a hospital fitter,

I gave them a plaintive, "Yeho! boys! Yeho!"

For the steward had carried me gently below!

That's the best place, you'll find,

Should you make up your mind,

To shout in Mid-Channel, "Ho! Yeho, boys! Yeho!"

"Bravo!" cried Mr. Punch, as the singer finished—"I quite agree with you. But now let me see what else is to be seen on the sands."

It was a gay scene—all the gayer for the delightful weather. Mr. Punch, knowing that his wishes must immediately be gratified, had taken care to desire beau temps en permanence.

"This is really very charming," murmured the Sage; "and I am not surprised that one of the brightest of my Artists chose it for his holiday resting-place last Summer—and, as I live, there he is! Halloa! Hi! Have you forgotten your old friend?"

"Forgotten you, my dear Mr. Punch!" said a gentleman of extreme elegance, approaching the Sage. "How could you think of such a thing? Why, you have had proofs of my goodwill every week for the last quarter of a century."

"So I have," returned Mr. Punch, heartily, "and have you anything from your portfolio you can show me?"

"What do you think of this?" And he showed him two Gauls, en costume de bain.

"What are these?" asked the Sage.

"I will tell you," replied the melancholy-looking tourist, approaching with his concertina. Then, in a soft voice, he sang the following lines, which he called

SWEETNESS AND LIGHT

Amid the throng that crowds the shore

I casually met them,

And, though I never see them more,

I never shall forget them!

Dear Sons of Gaul! The one so sleek

And plump, with sea-foam dripping:

The other! Ah! so limp and weak,

Scarce equal to a dipping.

But, as they stand together there,

Half conscious none can match them,

A sight for the admiring fair!—

I seek a phrase to catch them.

And, as one lights his cigarette,

Ho! presto! In completeness

I feel at last that I have met

With living "Light and Sweetness"!

"Just so," observed Mr. Punch. "But I must be off."

"Going to Paris by the train de luxe! Ah, how different it used to be when our fathers were boys together. Do you remember the old-fashioned diligence? Some day we may travel by train across the sea."

"Well, I have a still easier mode of travelling. I can beat diligence and locomotive with a wish. I want to be in Paris!" In a moment, the Sage found himself seated under the Tour Eiffel amidst the ruins of the Exhibition. The confusion was indescribable.

"Dear me, I think I've had about enough of this!" said Mr. Punch. "I fancy I should like to be in Switzerland."

Hey presto! and the Sage was in the home of the picturesque—in the land of table d'hôtes of the first order, and of hotel prices of nearly the same altitude as the mountains.

"This is very perfect," observed the Sage to his faithful attendant. Toby growled. "There is nothing needed to complete my happiness."

"Except me—'scuse me—except me."

"You! And who may you be?"

"Not know me, Mr. Punch? Why, that is a good one!"

Then the First Gentleman in the World, who has appropriately been called the "pink," not to say the rose (of courtesy), recognised a well-known contributor to his pages. He gave this admirable type of a race that has its exponents in every country under the sun some excellent advice, and suggested that they might part company with mutual advantage.

"My good friend," said Mr. Punch, "I am quite aware that you are in the habit of corresponding with an intimate known as 'Charlie.' Oblige me with a duplicate of your next letter, and it shall be immortalised." It will be seen that Mr. Punch has kept his word.

SWEETNESS AND LIGHT.

Father Chrismas not in it with me, Charlie—sort of big snowball on legs;

And cold, Charlie? Flasks was no use, could ha' gurgled neat Irish in kegs.

Still, I wosn't much 'urt, mate, thanks be—only needled a bit in my pride,

And I soon got upsides with the party, and fair took it hout of that Guide.

He'd a mash at Chermooney—neat parcel enough, though in course not my style;

Couldn't patter her lingo—wus luck!—but I could do the lardy, and smile;

And that Merry Swiss Boy got so jealous, along o' some capers o' mine,

That I'm sure, if he'd twigged arf a chance, he'd a chucked me slap into the Rhine.

Then I tried Shammy-hunting, old pal, but I didn't make much of a bag,

Stalking curly-'orned goats in a country all precipice, hice-hill, and crag,

Might suit Mister Manfred, it may be—he didn't seem nuts on his life;

But give me rabbit-potting in Devon, where rocks is not edged like a knife.

'Ad a try arter Idlewise, too—sort o' fluffy-leaved, snow-coloured flower—

'All the mugs seem to set heaps o' store by—I sent a bit on to Bell Bower.

Though she would prefer a camelia. Bell calls all them forren gals "cats";

Wonder what she'd ha' said to see me spooning round 'midst short skirts and longplaits!

They'd a bit of a Buy-a-broom flaviour, and seemed a mite wooden to kiss;

But a gal's a gal all the world hover. In Switzerland, 'Arry, is Swiss.

Yus, the country of Shallys and Shammys is jest a bit trying, no doubt;

But there's larks to be 'ad near Mong Blong, if a party knows what he's about.

'Ad enough on it arter a fort-nit, though. Scenery's all mighty fine,

But too much of yer Halpine Club bizness is boko, and not in my line.

I remember them Caffys, dear boy, Roo der Caire and the Tower, so, thinks I,

Slippin' 'ome I'll take France on the way, and go in for a bit of a fly.

I done Parry a treat, mate, this time. 'Ad a ride in the Bor der Boolong;

You may see, by the sketch I've inclosed, as I came out perticular strong.

It is honly hus English can ride. Frogs ain't in it ah shovel, yer know.

They in fack always fails in Ler Sport, though they gives Bull a lead at Ler Bo!

L'Horloge ain't arf bad. Snakes! sich voices! The cackle and gag, too, fust-rate;

My Parisian pal 'elped me out, but my larf was sometimes a bit late,

And so flummoxed the Frenchies a few; one old chap in blue blouse and cropped hair

Must ha' thought me a walking conundrum, to judge by his thunderstruck stare.

I was togged in stror 'at and striped flannels; I'd 'ad the straight tip from a chum;

I cried, "Beast!"—that's the French for Hangore, quite O. K., though I own it sounds rum,

I gave mouth to the Pa-ta-ta chorus, I slapped the Garsong on the back;

And, sez I, "Say ler jolliest lark, que jay voo poor kelk tom, that's a fack!"

'ARRY ON HORSEBACK.

Don't fancy he twigged, not percisely. But, lor', them French waiters is snide,

With their black Heton jackets, white aprons, and trim "mutton chopper" each side,

At the Caffys, dear boy, 'arter twelve, it's a wonder to see 'em waltz round

With a tray-full of syrups and strors, with no spillings, and 'ardly a sound.

Bit confusing at fust, the French lingo; their posters an' cetrer looks rum,

And you've got to be fly to their meaning afore you can make the thing hum.

I kep' on button-holing old buffers to find out my way about town,

And sailed briskly along fur as "Esker—?" when, 'ang it!—I mostly broke down.

Esker voo, with a gurgle to follow, don't fetch 'em, these Frenchies, not much;

"Conny par" comes a great deal too often, and then a cove feels out of touch.

If you want to make love, find yer way, or keep check on the nuggets you spend,

You must put in the patter O. K., mate, or somehow you come out wrong end.

'Ad a turn at the old Expersition, bid one larst good-bye to the Tower,

And chi-iked lar Rerpooblick a bit for her luck in jest keepin' in power.

The Bullanger boom was a fizzle. They say he's mopped out; I dunnow;

But it wouldn't surprise me, my pippin, to see him yet Bossing the Show.

I had met Mister Punch at Chermooney—he also was out on the scoop,

On a Trip Round the World, so he told me. Sez I, "I'll pal on to your troop."

But he gave me a look from his lamps, and somehow I choked off like a shot,

"Take your own line," sea he, "and my tip; do not swagger, drink deep, or talk rot!"

Should 'ave like to ha' joined him, in course, but he's sech a 'ot 'and at a 'int,

Still he said if I'd send him a letter to you, mate, he'd put it in print.

So look hout for the Halmanack, Charlie! You saw my last letter from Parry?

Well this with some picters, I 'ope will bring similar kudos to

'Arry.

Having disposed of 'Arry, Mr. Punch wished himself in the Celestial Empire. And in China the Sage found himself. Pagodas and pigtails met him on every side.

"Really, not half bad," murmured the Sage, and then, turning to Toby, he was surprised to find his attached attendant trembling from the tail backwards. "Ah, I see: a Celestial restaurant! No, no, my boy, don't be alarmed. They shan't eat you. If I want any food, it shall be some light refreshment—say a Feast of Lanterns."

"I'm pleased to see you looking so well, Sir," said a portly person, with a remarkably florid complexion, and wearing a suit of well-worn evening clothes, emerging from the restaurant. "I've been waiting for you, Sir, a long time."

"That you have, Robert—in the City and elsewhere. But what are you doing in China?"

"It's a long story, Mr. Punch; but if you don't mind eating this bird's-nest soup, which isn't bad, though not a patch upon our dear tuttle, I will tell you how I came to leave our glorious Corporation, and got into these outlandish parts."

Mr. Punch bowed, and discarding a pair of chopsticks for a spoon, toyed with the succulent preparation while he listened to

"Robert's Story about China."

MR. PUNCH'S PANORAMA OF THE YEAR 1889.

Prologue.

Mr. Punch to Toby.

I am the only Painter without bias,

And Monster Panoramas, my Tobias,

Now being quite the order of the day,

I've limned the largest, which I here display;

And, issued in mine Almanack, 'tis clear

'Twill be the Biggest Order of the Year!

'Tis painted in the Highest Art Style—Mine!

Here you perceive the pith of 'Eighty-Nine,

A Year of Grace—and also of disgraces.

Look, Toby, on this sea of well-known faces!

Mark the familiar eyes, the salient noses!

(The sign of Gladstone or the mark of Moses.)

Kings, Lords and Ladies, Statesmen, Whigs and Tories.

No painter of great sprawling Allegories

Ever yet packed into so small a compass

So many who've won fame—or raised a rumpus.

A précis of a twelvemonth's work and babble is

This summary of the great Annus Mirabilis.

Perpend, Tobias. Hand me up the pointer.

Listen, O World! and, Time, thou great disjointer

Of hearts and epochs, stand awhile at gaze,

Whilst I explore, explain the Mighty Maze,

Which, being made by Punch, the Friend of Man,

You may depend is "not without a plan."

Now for the rostrum! Follow my pointer, Toby, with thy recording pencil. Listen, O World, with ears attent, and eyes "sequacious of the—Truth-teller!" I speak urbi et orbi!

First, the newly-elected County Council, Ladies and Gentlemen! Ritchie's colossal Civic Symposium! "Ritchie's Folly," some hasty assayers of innovations may have been tempted to term it. But Punch is never hasty.

Macbeth at the Lyceum and Gladstone in Naples! Later on, "Macbeth" Irving visits the Queen—an honoured guest! The return of the dove—if the Brummagem Bruiser may be likened to the Bird of Peace. All, at any rate, welcome his wife, a true messenger of peace, let us hope, from across the Atlantic flood.

From West to North—the "Nitrate King." Let us trust he'll prove a "True North" to the multitudes who trust him. Next the Teuton Titan on the (Colonial) War-Path! Formidable competitor; but even Titans trip at times, eh, Orion? From Bismarck asking for Samoa to Chaplin "chucking" Protection is a transit. Big 'uns both—of a sort? But Boulanger, the pseudo-great General Boum, coming a cropper? Guarda, e passa!

The ingenious Japs at a new work of Art—scarcely native this time. We'll hope their "New Constitution" may shape as well as their cabinets, and wear better than their locks and keys. Pantomime child-peris turned out—pro tem., thanks be—of their Stage Paradise. "See me reverse!"

Two openings,—Parliament and the Parnell Commission. And then—sinister sequel to the latter!—the flight of the pitiful Pigott. A far pleasanter picture is the return of generous D'Aumale to Chantilly. Scarcely less agreeable, to lovers of peace and of France, is the flight of the blatant firebrand Boulanger. Welcome the coming, speed the parting guest!

Big brave boys these American Base-Ball players. Game may be acclimatised here, but they evidently thought our "climate" against them, and with reason. Loss of the Sultan,—not the Padishah himself, worse luck! He would be no loss. Cambridge winning "the classic race"! Bravo, Light Blue! Who mutters demur! Ah! you are a brunette, though a "fair" one, my dear, so Punch pardons you. The sight of your Gracious Queen enjoying her Royal self in Portugal, will, perhaps, put you in a better temper, Miss.

Two bad endings! Abolition of the Board of Works, and abdication of King Milan of Servia. Both can be well spared. But Bright, brave belligerent John, true, tenacious, trenchant,—no, we could ill spare him. What, Punch wonders, would the fighting Apostle of Peace have said of the "Naval Defence Bill" hard by? Well, we know what the Country said of it. And the escape of that Kane-Captained Rennie-engined Calliope,—England has not forgotten that yet, if the Admiralty has.

Opening of the Great—the Colossal, the Titanic, the World-witching, Republic-saving French Exhibition! As "Big" a thing as—as the Tour Eiffel itself! Can even Mr. Punch say more? It must have a paragraph all to itself. Well done, Lutetia! Well may you pro tem. at least, kick out politics.

Sandy "takes the floor," and his "Scotch Local Government Bill!" Hope he'll like it. He generally does like big things, be they Bills or Cabers! Better anyhow than Paddy relishes "Balfour's Battering-Ram," which comes next. And then, Gentlemen, the match at Brummagem between those two political pugilists, Churchill and Chamberlain! Fight unfinished, result as yet uncertain. National Portrait Gallery to be fitly housed at last. Then the picture takes us "across the herring-pond" to the great Washington Centenary. Four Millions more money for Ships, the opening of the Opera Season, the raising of the Rates; all matters of interest, painful or otherwise, to most of you, Gentlemen.

Abandonment of the Sugar Bill! Not one of the much-talked-of "sweets of office" this, eh? Ask Baron de Worms! Raid on the Betting Clubs! But the great Demon of Gambling, like the objects of the great Curse in Ingoldsby, "never" seems "one penny the worse." Opening of the Spanish Exhibition. Equipment of our Volunteers. Bravo, Lord Mayor Whitehead!

The Johnstown Floods, Gentlemen; too terrible to talk lightly of. Here is symbolised the discreditable Parachute Mania, which was a disagreeable feature of the dead year. May it die therewith! I hear a stir, a silken amongst my fair auditors. Yes, Ladies, the Marriage of the lucky Duke of Portland, lucky, as I said at the time, with both Bridal and Bridle. Another Dropped Bill, Gentlemen; this time the Land Transfer Bill, "knocked out" in the Lords by the "Sluggers" of Legal Privilege. Westward Ho! goes the ubiquitous, inexhaustible G. O. M. on party thoughts intent; whilst near him is shadowed forth the rise of that Irreconcileable, Socialistic new "Fourth Party," the avowed purposes of which probably sometimes "give him pause."

Great Show of the "Humorists in Art." Hope you all went to see it. If you didn't, 'twas your loss. Then—strange juxtaposition!—the Great Turf Libel Case! Can one "libel" the Turf? Mr. Punch wonders. Anyhow, "Donovan"—that Lucky Duke again!—wins the Derby. "Donovan" was evidently "on the job," not "out for an airing," eh? Visit of the Shah of Persia. You will not want me to say anything more about that threshed-out subject. The Labour Congress in Switzerland was less talked of, but probably quite as important, whilst the appointment of Her Most Gracious Majesty as President of the Royal Agricultural Society is of even greater home-interest.

Next comes the Great Event of the Year! Mr. Punch's Visit to the Paris Exhibition, already celebrated by him in proper time and shape! You all of you have its record, of course. If not—get it!!! That Balloon bore a happy party, and needed no parachute.

The Delagoa Bay Railway business, Mr. Punch's pictorial comment on which so infuriated mischievous Master Portugal! The Whitechapel Woe! Not a matter for words, Gentlemen, but deeds.

Hooray! Another Royal Marriage! The Wedding March, with a Fife accompaniment! And—quite "in a concatenation accordingly," though at t'other side of Panorama—the Golden Wedding of the G. O. M. Prospect and retrospect, both pleasant. Was it the tender association of sympathy which made the G. O. M. so eloquent in favour of the Royal Grants? Who knows? Anyhow, his more rampant "followers"—Labby among them—would have liked, for the moment, to "muzzle" the "old man eloquent"—as Monro did the London dogs. The Naval Review, and the German Emperor's brief visit, "synchronised," as the saps say; and then, as another "Big Thing," they made Chaplin Minister of Agriculture! "Capping the Climax," that! Hard-by another Great—or Big—Man, hews away at the Tithes Bill. Go it, Harcourt!

Following the example of another really Great Man, Mr. Gladstone goes to Paris, sees the Exhibition, mounts the Eiffel Tower, perorates pleasantly about the Two Republics, France and America. Or should we say, America and France? Arcades ambo? And the G. O. M. orating on them was very Arcadian indeed.

The miserable Maybrick Case calls for no comment here. The Great Strike does. Memorable event, Ladies and Gentlemen, which—as Truthful Thomas would say—"will have results." Ecclesiastical dress for ladies may interest the more "dressy" portion of my audience—or may not. The French Elections. Mr. Punch congratulates Madame La République whom primarily the Exhibitors, and secondarily the Urns, saved from chaos and General Boum-Boulanger! Balfour's little faux pas, in connection with an Irish University. That fish won't bite! "Outidanos" on the Triple Alliance! Outis—the Ulysses of Liberalism—defying the huge Polyphemus of Continental Despotism. So perhaps he, the Homer-lover, would picture it. Polyphemus may have a different opinion, perchance.

Railways in China! Ah! Mr. Punch thinks he has heard of that before. He hopes it may be true this time; though, to the Mandarin, the Locomotive is a Bogey, and the Line sacrilege. Arab advance on Suakin! Neither is that a novel item of news! Gallantly repelled this time, though, and partly, at least, by native valour. A good omen!

Trials at Maryborough, consequent on the lamentable Gweedore evictions, and yet more lamentable crime attending them. When will this sort of thing be wiped out of the panorama of the year?

Raid of the egregious McDougall, compound, apparently, of Bottom and Paul Pry. Well, all's well that ends well, eh, "Mister" Rosebery? Glad, anyhow, you are to boss the London County Council yet a little longer. You may be counted on to minimise the McDougall element.

Greek Royal Wedding. Rare year this for what may be called Splendid Splices! Royal Princes, Princesses, and lucky Dukes well to the fore! As a set-off—alas!—Mr. Punch's Panorama has reluctantly, and delicately, to record many lamented deceases of great, or worthy, or well-beloved ones. Poor Crown Prince Rudolph, stout and eloquent John Bright, quaint and clever Pellegrini, the Vanity Fair Caricaturist, Lady Holland, of politico-social fame, Wilkie Collins, the master of ingeniously Sensational Romance; and last, but, to Mr. Punch and his young men certainly not least, Percival Leigh, of Comic Latin Grammar, and Mr. Pips's Diary fame—to the world, and, to his private friends, "dear old Professor," of pleasant and unfading memory.

Royal Globe-trotters again? The German Emperor visits Constantinople, and hob-nobs with the Sultan; the Prince of Wales is off to Egypt, where, perhaps, he hob-nobs with Father Nile. Thence returning, Punch hopes, happy, and with renewed stores of sturdy health!

Yet later in the year come two Big Shows, the Lord Mayor's to wit, with pretty reproductions of old English dresses and disportings, and that of the evergreen P. T. Barnum, with—well—with everything in the marvel line, if Mr. Punch may trust Phineas's posters.

The Public, anyhow, may trust Mr. Punch's! By such a Panoramic Poster even the Great Showman will admit himself outdone.

That is all, Ladies and Gentlemen, for the present. Mr. Punch, in conclusion, wishes you all a Merry Christmas, and a Happy New Year!

n 22nd of February Session opened; date unusually late, but then remember our Autumn Session of previous year brought us up to Christmas Eve. Charles Lamb, arriving at office late in the morning, pleaded that he made up for it by going away early. House, going away late, returns little later. Very modest Ministerial Programme to commence with. How it has been carried out has been told from day to day with graphic minuteness and uncompromising fidelity by Mr. Punch's humble, but respected companion. "The Diary of Toby, M.P.," follows the British flag. It is read everywhere—by the pathless ice-floes of Canada, through the length of North and South America, in the cities of Australia, by the watch-fires of the Squatters, on Greenland's icy mountains, and eke on India's coral strand; where Punch appears weekly on the bookstalls, price threepence. It will, therefore, not be necessary to go much into detail, a brief summary sufficing.

At the outset Georgie Hamilton promises Bill to strengthen Navy; Lord Advocate mentions Scotch Universities Bill, with Scotch Local Government Bill to follow. Parnell puts in early appearance, challenging Balfour, amid wild cheers from Irish Members, to explain why Carew, M.P., at present in prison, had been deprived not only of his flannel shirt, but of his hair and moustache?

Debate on Address turns largely on Irish affairs. Suddenly, in full tide of attack, comes news of flight of Pigott. For awhile Pigott's presence fills the place; his name thrown at Balfour whenever he rises; cries of "Pigott!" punctuate Ministerial replies. Nevertheless, John Morley's Amendment to Address negatived by 339 votes against 260; Address being finally carried without a division.

Georgie Hamilton got on early with his scheme for strengthening the Navy. Twenty-one-and-a-half millions asked for, adding seventy ships to British Navy. Not all to be built at once; whole scheme to be accomplished by April, 1894. Bill, debated three several nights, finally passed. In accordance with pledge given last Session, Supply put in fore-front of business. House sat night after night, sometimes voting money, always talking. All kinds of questions came up in Supply; treatment of Irish prisoners; Ministers' alleged connivance with Times; above all, Pigott, by this time, huddled up in suicide's grave at Madrid. Special attack made on Attorney-General for his professional connection with the Times case. Harcourt led attack, Charles Russell taking notable part in it. But his friends stuck to him through thick and thin, and Vote of Censure defeated by large majority.

On 28th of March, came news of death of John Bright; fell like oil on troubled waters. Old Morality bore testimony to his worth. Gladstone pronounced a splendid eulogy; Hartington added a postscript; Justin M'Carthy spoke for Ireland; and Chamberlain, rising to height of occasion, informed the House, that Birmingham had never allowed the Statesman they mourned to pay any of the subscriptions ordinarily exacted from a Borough Member. Thereafter the House went on with its ordinary business.

On 16th of April, Goschen introduced Budget in smallest House gathered in similar circumstances for many years. Both ends made to meet by increase of Death Duties, and a little tinkering of the Malt Duty. About this time, the "Noble Baron," began to loom on horizon with his Sugar Bounties Convention. Much time wasted through remainder of Session over this matter. Government stood gallantly by "Noble Baron;" in the end, amid the jeers of Opposition, Sugar Bounties Bill withdrawn to avoid Ministerial defeat.

On 14th of May, Old Morality brought in Bill to establish Board of Agriculture for Great Britain, a measure which, happily passing, has dowered the country with Chaplin as Minister of Agriculture.

Early in July, came on proposal to make provision for eldest Son of Prince of Wales. Manifestations of opposition induced Government to present the matter in modified form of Motion for appointment of Select Committee to consider the whole question of provision for Members of Royal Family. This agreed to, after debate, in which Sage of Queen Anne's Gate came to the front, keeping his place throughout subsequent proceedings. Great efforts made to buy off opposition of this incorruptible person; hesitated for brief moment, when position of Treasurer of Her Majesty's Household dangled before his eyes. Principal public duty of Treasurer, is to bring in gracious replies from the Throne to Addresses from faithful Commons. In his mind's eye, Sage saw himself in Windsor uniform, with gold stripe adown trouser-leg, leaning lightly on white wand of office, as he stood at the Bar of the House awaiting the Speaker's signal to bring up gracious reply. For a moment he faltered, but only for a moment. "No," he said, "England expects every man to do his duty, and Labby will not disappoint expectation;" and he went straight off and put down five fresh Amendments. This, now published for the first time, is authentic.

These debates on the Royal Grants were, perhaps, the most animated of Session. Vote for Royal Family of course granted, but in face of significant minority of 116. Gladstone supported Government, marching into Lobby against large majority of his own following, who turned aside with the Incorruptible Sage. Oddest thing of all was to behold Irish Members voting with the Court Party—Joseph Gillis going out shoulder to shoulder with Arthur Balfour, and Tay Pay hobnobbing with Old Morality.

After this the Session languished. Old Morality expedited business by announcing that no fresh measures of importance would be taken. Members began to clear out, and early close of Session seemed imminent. But, towards end of July, when everybody thought business would be wound up, the Tithes Bill brought in, and stubbornly pressed. A difficult position for the Government. Bill hotly opposed by Liberals, and not loved by Conservatives. Gray, Conservative Member for Maldon, moved crucial Amendment, which was negatived only by critical majority of four in a House of 286 Members. Nevertheless Government still stuck to framework of Bill. Attorney-General tabled batch of Amendments which transmogrified the Measure. On 16th of August House faced by practically new Bill. This made matters no better. Liberals mollified, Conservatives angry. Next day, amid storm of jeering, borne with characteristic calmness by Old Morality, he withdrew the Measure.

After this it was all over, even the shouting, and on the very last day of August the Session of 1889 came to a close. Its final hours, otherwise peaceful, were fluttered by promise of a Measure endowing an Irish University, whereat there was much spluttering in political circles.

HYPNOTISM—A MODERN PARISIAN ROMANCE. (In Four Chapters.)

MR. PUNCH'S FOUR PRIZE MIDDLE-CLASS WIVES.

ROBERT'S STORY ABOUT CHINA.

The fact is, Sir, that I had got quite tired of hearing Gents all a grumbling at allers having the same kind of wittels at their Citty Bankwets: so I thort as I woud jest take a run hover here, jest to see what they had to hoffer by way of change; and so here I am, on my voyage of dishcovery.

I passes over that woyage, and my many blunders in trying to make myself hunderstood by the hignerent natives, and at once goes in to describe what was of coarse most hintresting to me, namely, the dinners. I dined wun day at the Shing-Cully Otel, which is a fust-class consern. I was told as all the Swells dined at the top of the house; so hup stairs I went, and sat myself down at a large tabel, with about 30 Chineese Gents, all drest in their riduklus kostoom of Jackets and pettycotes. They all stared at me as if I was sumthink werry strange, tho' drest in my ushal full hevening dress, with white choker. We only had 1 Maynoo for all of us, and had to chuse our Dishes, so I chose Birds'-nest Soup, Sharks' fins, as they hadn't got no Turbot, lots of frute, and Roast Puppy! We began with frute; but, before we ate any, we all took wine with one another! The Birds'-nest Soup must have been werry carefooly strained, for there wasn't not no twigs nor bits of straw, het setterer, in it. The Sharks' fins wasn't at all bad, but, as we wasn't allowd no knives or forks, but only 2 chop-sticks, as they calls 'em, I had sum difficulty in heating it. They then brort me some stewed sumthink, which was that oily that I didn't heat much of it. I ardly xpecs to be bleeved when I says that we had no tabel-cloth or tabel-napkins, but we each had a peace of common brown paper at the side of our plates, with which we all wiped our messy chop-sticks, and our oily mouths. The dux was werry good, so I had about harf a one. The Puppy Dog looked much like a Sucking Pig, but even the strong hunion sauce didn't hide the parfume enuff for me to be able to taste it. The wine wasn't anythink werry grand, but, what it wanted in flavior, it made up in strength, and many a eye began for to twinkle afore the dinner was over; and, judging from what I saw then, and at other times, I should think about the most commical hobjeck on earth is a drunken Chinyman. I was arterwards told that the propper place to get dogs and cats for dinner was in Jack-Poo-Kow. The idear of calling such horrid filth Kow, made me suspishus, so I found the place out, and, who should I see oppersite the winder where the dead dogs and cats is hung up to dry, but your own dog Toby! a barking at 'em with such hindignashun that I werrily bleeves that one word of incurragement from me wood have made him rush into the restaurant, and ewen praps attack the Hed Waiter! However, I perswaded him to leave the horrid place, and go home with me; but, on our way, we came to another of them, where a black cat was hanging up, when in Toby rushed, and, siezing it in his mouth, brort it out to me, and tore it lim from lim! Out came the Master, and 2 of his Waiters, and, little knowing who I was, seized me, and dragged me into the shop, and demanded 100 sents, or four shillings, for the black cat's body, and tuppence for its pair of eyes, which, it seems, are considerd a speshal lukshury? Toby, insted of looking ashamed of hisself for his shamefool conduck, trotted by my side, barking away, and looking as prowd as a Lord Mare's Coachman, till I lost him in the crowd.

I called one day by appintment upon a sillibrated Mandereen with 3 tales, who must therefore have bin a heminent swell. He was not a tome, but the servents showed me into a room where a most bewtifool Chineese Lady was a-lying on a Sofhy, with such darling little tootsy putsys as I never seed afore, and which I shood think wood suttenly prewent her from ever warking like a Cristian Lady. She wore all her bewtifool hare brushed off her bewtifool face as if she wanted it all to grow backards. I warked boldly up to her and sed, "Mandareeny tomy tomy?" to which she replied, "Ching-Ching-Changy-Wangy!" Not quite undustanding a word she said, I was about to take my leave by saying, "Bowy! Wowy!" when she got off the Sofhy and hobbling along to the door, placed herself against it, and patting my estonished cheeks said, "Oh, how nicey picey!" I was that estonished that I thort I shood have fainted, and ewen Toby, who I had took with me, stared at her with both his eyes, speshally when she put up her fan, when presently the door was forced open from the howtside, and who shood henter but the three-taled Mandareen hisself!

He looked fust at the bewtifool Lady, and then at me, and then, harf droring his grate big sword, and sounding the Gong most wierlently, in rushed about ½ a dozen servents, and after some most angry words of Chineese gibberish from their master, they all siezed me and dragged me to another room, where they took off both my boots and my stockings and laying me down on the flore, tho I had all my best clothes onn, they beat both my souls and my eels with sticks till I skreamed for mersy!

They then left me. I was that hurt both in my feet and my feelinx that I didn't kno what on airth to do. When presently in came one of them quite quietly and said in a whisper: "I spikes ze Inglesh, pore feller! and if you have sum munny I can get you what you calls a sub-sty-tooty for the rest of your punnishment." "How much will it be?" says I. "About 10,000 Cash?" says he. "10,000 Cash!" says I. "It's only 2 pound ten of your munny," says he. So, feeling as I shood suttenly die if I had to go through the same tortur again, I gave him the munny, and sure enuff he soon returned with a pore seedy-looking Chinaman who took my place, and my new friend took me out of the house by the back-door, and off I set and got home without hinterrupshun!

As soon as my feet got well I went to a werry sillybrated Phizzygonomist, I thinks they calls 'em, to have my fortun told. He werry kindly sed that my large mouth and chin, and my furm nose, and my large neck, was all most faverable sines; but added, as he was sorry to have to say, that as my eyes was not long ones, and had no large pewpils, I must most suttenly have a grate natteral taste for picking and stealing! Whether sich a rewelation was worth fifteen sents, or 7½d., I must leave you, Sir, to determine; all I can say is, that I thort it dear at the munny.

I bort wun day a most bewtifool Chineese rapper, and I used offen to go and sit on the steps leading to wun of their little tempels, with my air werry nicely drest by a air-dresser, and there, with Toby by my side, I used to sit and receeve the respecfool atenshuns of the estonished parsers-by.

One of the prinsiple emusements of the hupper nobillerty is the flying of most bewtifool kites! I have heard of the same thing being dun in the great City of London, but I never seed it. I bleeves in both cases the kites is made of paper. Everybody smokes in China, Men and Women and Boys and Gals. Sum of the men has baccy-pipes so long that they uses them as Warking-Sticks!

I was rayther surprised to find as they warships the Griffin, jest such a wun as we has on the top of Tempel Bar, but which our peepel, as you kno, don't warship, not by no means. But the Chineese in their dense hignerence calls it a Draggon!

In short, Sir, I arives at the conclushun that the Chineese is about the rummest lot of peeple in the hole world, and anyboddy as wants plenty of fun had better cum here at wunce, but not stay long, and don't heat dogs or cats, or wisit Mandereen's Wives.

"Thank you, very much," said Mr. Punch, when Robert had finished speaking, "but I am afraid I can stay with you no longer. I wish to pay a flying visit to the Colonies. But first I must show Mr. Stanley that, great Discoverer though he may be, I can yet over-explore him!" Then, accompanied by his faithful Toby, he wished that they should be in Central Africa. Urged by his companion, in this instance, he took some copious notes. He preserved them, and they are thus able to be embodied in this veracious chronicle.

MR. PUNCH AND TOBY IN CENTRAL AFRICA.

truggle through the jungle; hardships beginning. Black-legs, engaged owing to strike amongst Dokkas, or native porters, fast dwindling, owing to energetic picketing with poisoned arrows from behind trees by small brown dwarfs. Pursued one, and after boxing his ears severely, dismissed him with threat of telling his mother. Jungle almost impassable. All heavier baggage sent on to Central Africa by Parcels Delivery. After four days' wandering, the Lady Guide, who had been represented as "thoroughly conversant with the district," began to cry and said she had lost the path. Dismissed her on the spot, paying her return fare, though under no legal obligation to do so. Really too ridiculous to attempt to conduct a party through the Dark Continent with nothing but an ordnance map of Epping Forest! Long and fruitless search for track; fortunately, just as despair reached climax, met a Koppah (or native policeman) and asked him—turned out to be only just round the corner.

On the main road again; Passed a native caravan of nomad Djipsis. Bought a hearth-brush and door-mat. At mid-day, took the sun with portable camera. Sun moved and spoilt negative. Made some observations.

Reached native village—N'yutoihigama. Much struck by native method of ascending palms for cocoa-nuts, carrying letters, wrestling, &c. Visited King Mahbul of Pigzinklovaland. Much interested by efforts of King with his three favourite wives, all under influence of Pombé or palm-beer, to roll into royal kraal.

On again; progress obstructed by the Nekkids of Nuffintowara, who seemed bent on giving battle. Sent messenger to King with present of shirt-studs, after which allowed to pass unharmed. Further on, stopped by band of Grimi-Grubbas, who evidently meant being nasty. Called to them pleasantly in native tongue, "Cheke-bobo-nangu-yanzi-toorali?" (Good-morning, have you used Scours' Soap?) Found they hadn't, and presented them with a packet, also with brushes and other articles of the toilette, of which they were in great need.

Came to open space near N'yumarkiti. Saw some Darckorsis running in and out of brushwood in highly suspicious manner. Found on inquiry that they were only "out for an airing" not "on the job." Much relieved. Conference with King M'rora of the Wezijiji tribe; trumpets sounded as soon as he was done.

Discovered large river of colour of strong green tea. Named it the Sir Wilfrid Lawson. Entered territory of the Rumboozi people. Their king, Mopzanbrumzi, offering his services as guide. Mopsanbrumzi most cordial, but much too drunk to be of any material assistance. Once powerful intellect now, alas! degraded. Made a long speech in the Ikkupi dialect—quite unintelligible. Mopzanbrumzi presented with a small tin of Royal Mail Red Paint, with which, when the expedition left, he was proceeding to decorate the vicinity.

On the lagoon. An adventure befell Toby, which, but for prompt action, might have had fatal termination; Toby mistook open mouth of hippopotamus for drain, and rushed down in search of rat. Hippopotamus closed mouth, with expression intimating plainly that "No contributions can be returned unless accompanied by stamps and directed wrapper." Toby's barking inside fainter. At length remembered having brought Report of Parnell Commission for private reading. Read Report to Hippopotamus slowly, until symptoms of weariness observable in huge pachyderm. Read on, and hippopotamus yawned; whereupon whistled to Toby, who ran up, not much the worse, except that frill had lost every vestige of colour.

Engaged native interpreter, as no conversation manuals published for countries in this district. Excellent fellow—clean, strictly honest, total abstainer; only one blemish—not discovered till later—a bit of a cannibal when he got the chance. Sent him on to announce our arrival to the Dilli-dillis, but found none in the neighbourhood when we came up—only some things which he said were fossils. Made no comment, but resolved to send them to Professor Huxley, and see what his opinion is.

Among the Bong Booshis; despatched Cannibal Interpreter to report; he returned, wiping his mouth, and announcing that they were "most agreeable, excellent, good people."

Could not understand why they all hid underground at our approach, and why the King so persistently sent word that he was not at home. Told Interpreter that, in our opinion, he was a little deficient in tact. Sent him to treat with a native chief, called Phatti, and had the mortification this time of surprising him in the act; no denial possible—he had his mouth full at the time! Told him that, if this occurred again, we should be exceedingly annoyed. Cannibal Interpreter penitent; lent him tract, Why I Became a Vegetarian, over which he shed tears.

Came to the M'yusikauli District. King Lessi came to meet us, and offered Mr. Punch a free pass over his domains. In the evening a grand performance, partly in our honour, partly to celebrate recent triumph over the G'yudi-g'yudis, who, under their chief Makdoogalla, had been waging war against the M'yusi-kaulis on the pretext that they were assuming an offensive demeanour. Heard afterwards that both sides claimed victory, but truce declared for a year. Performance magnificent—but much too long. Native dances by Ikika girls in pairs. T'seriokomiks and T'songandanzas also gave curious exhibitions of their powers. Hackiribats and Kunjeras (or native magicians) performed. A wild, weird, lurid scene, strange and fascinating—but a trifle slow.

In Ugoweh; met some Gitalongdo girls, but could not succeed in persuading them to enter into conversation.

On the River; saw Krûs practising in long canoes, and got out of their way. Descended cataracts; shot several rapids, and sent them home to be stuffed.

Came to Desert, and hired camel to go across on, (N.B. These animals are styled "Back-tryin"—which they are.) Only eighteen-pence an hour, which would have been reasonable enough, but quite impossible to sit out more than nine-penn'orth. Decided to take an ostrich for remainder of journey. Softer to sit. Ostrich a failure; ran for five hours in a circle, at express speed, and then suddenly turned shy, and buried its head in sand, without the slightest notice; foolish habit for any bird to acquire. Determined to try a quagga—quagga tried me, and very soon found me wanting, A quagga is a brute to buck! After all, came back to my old wooden mount—spot better than stripes, any day.

In the Jungle again. Discovered Colony of Highly-educated Anthropoid Apes. Lent them some copies of Punch, which are indispensable to all African travellers. Apes delighted—one large gorilla quite hysterical with laughter. Much gratified—till discovery that it was the advertisements which amused them most. Sense of humour of apes much exaggerated.