Chapter 2

"RAILWAY RATES."--Whatever question there may be on this subject, there can be none whatever as to the rates at which "The Bournemouth Express," "The Granville L. C. & D.," and "The Flying Dutchman," severally travel. Such rates are first rate.

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CON. FOR THE CONSOLATION OF THE MANY SUFFERERS FROM A CURRENT CATCH-WORD.--_Q._ What is the only thing that is _really_ "up-to-date"?--_A._ A palm-tree.

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MEM. FOR MR. VIVIAN AND THE ROYALISTS.--The Last of the STUARTS,--STUART _KNILL_. There can be none after _Nil_.

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DRAMATIC WITHOUT BEING STAGEY.

The plan, successfully inaugurated, and, within the last fortnight, still more successfully carried out by Sir DRURIOLANUS OPERATICUS BALMASCUS PANTOMIMICUS, of giving what may be called "unstagey representations" of popular Operas--that is, popular Operas sung and acted without the aid of scenes or properties (though "substitutes" may be permitted, as, for example, a chair with four legs complete would represent a horse, and a round table a tower); the singers, however, being in costume, may work an extensive "Transformation" Scene (which is quite in Sir DRURIO'S line) in the Dramatic and Operatic world, and may effect such a change as will save thousands to a Manager. Why not go a step further? Why have "costumes," or even "hand-properties"? Why not leave everything, except the perfection of the singing and the dramatic action, to the imagination of the audience? The prices of admission would be proportionately lowered, and the numbers admitted, in all probability, would be trebled, on which hypothesis a calculation may be based. What an exercise it would be for the imagination of the audience, were the Statue Scene from _Don Giovanni_ to be given with the Basso Profondo in evening dress, who represents the Stony Commendatore, seated astride a plank resting on tressels placed on a table which would have been substituted for the stone pedestal, while the Don or _Leporello_ (it doesn't much matter which) sings his asides to the audience! Here is novelty, and a great attraction! It is returning to Elizabethan days, when Managers called a spade a spade, and then so labelled it to prevent mistakes.

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SONG FROM "AS YOU LIKE IT" (_for the Member for East Galway, arranged by Colonel Saunderson, M.P._).--"What shall he have who shot the Deer?"

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A BANK NOTE.--The most likely time for obtaining payment "in hard cash," is when the Money Market "hardens a little," as was the case, so _The Times_ Money Article informed us, last Friday.

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"A STIFF JOB."

_Grand Old Ploughman sings_:--

Speed the Plough! Ah, that's all mighty fine, And I like the old saying's suggestion; But--wi' a small crock such as mine, The _speed_ may be matter o' question. I've set my hand to 'un, o' course, And munna look back, there's no doubt o' it: Yet I wish I'd a handier horse For the job, or that _I_ were well out o' it!

Stiff clay on a slaantin' hill-side, Would tax a strong team. Steady, steady! The little 'un goes a bit wide, And seems to be shirkin' already. To keep a straight furrow this go Will strain the old ploughman's slack muscle; And yet my new measters, I know, Will expect I to keep on the bustle.

Stiff job for a little 'un? Yes! If he doesn't pull straight there'll be bother, Must make the best of 'un I guess, This time, for I sha'an't get no other. Gee up! I shall have a good try, On that they may bet their last dollar. It's do, poor old crook, now, or die! But--I _must_ keep 'un oop to the collar!

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"This room is very close!" said Mrs. R., settling herself down to her knitting, which her nephew had furtively unravelled. "Open the window, TOM, and let out the asphyxia."

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LINES ON THE AUTHOR OF THE LABOUR BUREAU.

(_By a Labourer._)

'Ooray for Mister MUNDELLA, (Who's under Old GLADDY'S umbrella.) For he's a jolly good fella, And so say all of _hus_! With a 'ip, 'ip, 'ip, 'ooray! We hope the Bureau may pay. Of course it might well have been better, But then--it might have been _wus_!

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EMPHASIS GRATIÂ.--What a difference a slight emphasis makes in an ordinary sentence! The _D. T._ when giving, in advance, an account of a marriage to be solemnised the same afternoon, spoke thus concerning the costumes of the very youthful bridesmaids. "They will wear dresses of very pale blue silk, made up with ivory-hued lace." Now, had the second word been in italics, it would have read thus, "They _will_ wear," &c., as if everything had been done to prevent them from so arraying themselves, "but, in spite of all efforts, they _will_ wear dresses of very pale blue!" So obstinate of them! Such nice little ladies, too!

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"The Liberal-Unionists have resolved to abstain from pairing during the present Session." So _The Times_. "Birds in their little nests agree," quoth the eminent Dr. WATTS; but these Parliamentary Birds will belie their name of "Unionists" if they refuse to "pair."

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TELEGRAM FROM HAWAIANS TO AMERICAN PRESIDENT.--"WE would be U.S."

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THE ANTI----?

Your aid let me ask in a difficult task, _Mr. Punch_, with the greatest submission; To win for my name a well-merited fame was always my ardent ambition, And clearly to-day the least difficult way is to send an appeal to the papers, To form an intrigue for creating a league against fashion-designers and drapers.

Thereby shall I reap an advertisement cheap, and writers, with much perseverance, Will furnish as news their apocryphal views on my appetite, age, and appearance; They all will revere my conviction sincere, and loudly re-echo my praises, But the thing which, as yet, I'm unable to get, is a novel departure in crazes

The idea shall we float that a swallow-tail coat is only adapted for Vandals? Write pamphlets, designed to enlighten mankind on the duty of taking to sandals? Would a hatred of hats, or crusade on cravats, secure us a sympathy louder? Or shall we assert it is time to revert to patches, knee-breeches, and powder?

Meanwhile, your applause we invite for our Cause--you notice the capital letter-- Subscriptions and fees you may send when you please to the writer, the sooner the better. But as to the theme of this notable scheme, I wait for a timely suggestion; Its worth's beyond doubt, but what it's about remains, for the present, a question!

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The Bishop of CHESTER trembles. He is marked with the brand of "CAINE"!

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CONVERSATIONAL HINTS FOR YOUNG SHOOTERS.

HOSTS.

"Dear Punch," writes a valued Correspondent, "I wish you'd tip me the wink how I'm to talk to my hosts. I'm a poor man, but not a poor shot. So I get asked about a good deal to different places, and as I'm not the sort that turns on the talking-tap very easily, I often get stuck up. Just as I've got fairly into the swim with one of them I leave him, and have to think of talk for quite a different kind of chap, and so on all through the season. For instance, last December I did three shoots in as many weeks. The first was with old CALLABY, the rich manufacturer, who's turned sportsman late in life. I thought he'd like a talk about bimetallism, so I sweated it up a bit, and started off with a burst as soon as I got a look in. All no go. Nothing would please him but to talk of birds, and rabbits, and hares, and farming, and crops, and who was going to be High Sheriff, and all that. So I got a little left at the first go off.

"Next week I shot with BLOSSOM, another new friend, who's come into money lately, after knocking about all over America the greater part of his life. I tried him with the Chicago Exposition, and ranching as a business for younger sons; did it delicately, of course, and with any amount of deference, but he only looked at me blankly, and began talking about the Bank-rate. After that, I settled with myself I wouldn't talk to any more of them about things that they might be expected to feel an interest in.

"In the following week I was due at WHICHELLO'S. He's been a perfect lunatic all his life for music. He got up an orchestra in his nursery, which came to smash because his younger brother filled all the wind instruments with soap-suds. Later on he was always scraping, or blowing, or thumping, scooting about from one concert to another, making expeditions to the shrine of WAGNER as he called it, composing songs, and symphonies, and operas, and Heaven only knows what besides. He came into the old place in Essex when his brother died, about a year ago, and this was his first pheasant-shoot. I thought to myself, 'If you're anything like these other Johnnies, it's no good pulling out the music-stop with you.' On the first morning he seemed a shade anxious at breakfast, and said he was going to try a new plan of beating his coverts, which it had given him a lot of trouble to arrange as he wanted. Off we went after breakfast. We had about half a mile to walk before we got to the first wood, and I kept puzzling my brains the whole way about this blessed new dodge of beating.

"'Where are the beaters?' I said to WHICHELLO, when we got there, for devil a bit of one did I see.

"'You'll find them out directly,' says WHICHELLO, looking sly and triumphant; 'just you stand here, and wait. You'll get some shooting, I warrant you;' and, with that, he posted the other guns at the far end of the covert, told me and another chap we were to walk outside, in line with the beaters, and walked off. Suddenly he gave a whistle. Then what do you think happened? I'll give you a hundred guesses, and you won't be on it. Out of a little planting, about fifty yards off the piece we were to shoot, came marching a troop of rustics, dressed as rustic beaters usually are, but each of them carrying, in place of the ordinary beater's stick, a musical instrument of some sort. They were headed by the keeper, who waved a kind of _bâton_. When they got to our covert, they arranged themselves in line, and then, on a signal from WHICHELLO, crash, bang! they struck up the _Tannhäuser March_, and disappeared into the wood.

"'Line up, Trombone!' shouted the keeper--I heard his stentorian roar above the din--'Come, hurry along with the Bombardon; Ophicleide, you're too far in front. Keep it going, Clarinets. Now then, all together! What are you up to, Cymbals? Let 'em have it!' And thus they came banging and booming and blowing through the covert. The bassoon tripped into a thorn-bush, the big-drum rolled over the trunk of a tree and smashed his instrument, the hautboy threw his at an escaping rabbit, while the flute-man walked straight into a pool of water, and had to be pulled out by the triangle. But the rest of them got through somehow with that infernal idiot of a conducting keeper, still backing and twisting and waving like mad in the front. That was WHICHELLO'S idea of beating his coverts. 'Combining æsthetic pleasure with sporting pursuits,' he called it. Somehow we had managed to bring down a brace of pheasants, which, with three rabbits, made up our total, out of a covert which ought to have yielded ten times as many.

"I daresay you won't believe this story, but it's true all the same. If you don't believe it, write to WHICHELLO himself. I never saw anyone half so pleased as that fool was. He had given up all his time to teaching his rustics music, with a view to this performance, and had shoved in, as one of his keepers, a sporting third violin from the Drury Lane orchestra. They said it was glorious, and congratulated one another all round, with as much enthusiasm as if they'd repelled a foreign invasion. On the next beat they played the _March in Scipio_, and after that came a _Pot-Pourri of Popular Melodies_, arranged by the keeper. They played a selection from _The Pirates of Penzance_ while we lunched, and took the big wood to the tunes of '_Ta-ra-ra-boom-de-ay_' and '_Up-rouse ye then, my merry, merry Men!_' '_Rule Britannia_' and '_Home, Sweet Home_,' played us back to the house. I never heard such a confounded Babel of brass and wood in all my life. A German band in a country town couldn't come near it. Curiously enough, we most of us got urgent letters by next morning's post, summoning us home at once to attend to business, or to be present at the death-beds of relatives. I thought you'd like to hear this story, old cock. If you like, you're very welcome to shove it in your shooting series. I've seen a lot of rum goes in my life, but this was the rummest of the lot. And don't forget to let me have a word or two about talking to one's host. I know what I thought of that maniac WHICHELLO, but I shouldn't have liked to say that to him.

"Yours to a turn, A SPORTSMAN."

For the present I must leave this striking letter to the judgment of my readers. Space fails me to deal with it adequately. On another occasion I may be able to set down some ideas on the difficult subject suggested by my polite Correspondent.

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THE APPRECIATION OF GOLD.--"Why all this fuss?" writes a Correspondent. "Is there a difficulty in finding persons who properly appreciate gold? If so, I, Sir, am not of that number. I will be happy to receive from the Bank any quantity of sovereigns; and, further, I will undertake to show and honestly express my appreciation of this generosity on the part of the Bank. Ah! I should like to possess any number of those 'promises of May.'

"Yours, A MUNNIE GRUBBER."

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ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.

EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M.P.

_House of Commons, Tuesday, Jan. 31st._--"Members desiring to take their seats will please come to the Table."

'Twas the voice of the SPEAKER; one could hear him declaim just as Big Ben tolled four o'clock this afternoon. House crowded in every part, throbbing with excitement; crowds everywhere. In Centre Hall some vainly hoping for impossible places; others content to see the men go by whose names they read in the papers. Outside Palace Yard multitude standing patiently for hours, happy if only they saw the tip of Mr. G.'s hat as he drove in at the gate, or imagined the buttons on the Squire of MALWOOD'S gaiters. Never, in recent times, such a rush on opening days.

And Colonel SAUNDERSON, comfortably seated on Front Bench below Gangway, in choice companionship with Dr. TANNER, actually yawning!

"All very well for you, TOBY, dear boy," he said, responsive to my polite stare. "You come down here leisurely in afternoon, and take your seat. I've been on war-path since before daybreak. Knew the wild Irishmen meant to open proceedings of Session by appropriating our seats. Have not served in Royal Irish Fusiliers for nothing. Session opened by Royal Commission at two o'clock this afternoon. Thought if I arrived on spot at seven in morning would be in moderately good time. Here before seven: place in utter darkness; found friendly policeman with bull's-eye light; tightened my belt; cocked my pistol; requisitioned Bobby and his lantern. You should have seen us groping our way into House; Bobby first, with bull's-eye lantern professionally flashing to right and left, under seats, into dark corners. Made straight for my old corner-seat below Gangway; something white gleaming on front bench; with supple turn of wrist Bobby brought flambeau to bear upon it; found it was TANNER--TANNER, hatless, coatless, without even a waistcoat on! You might have knocked me down with much less than bayonet-prod. 'Morning, Colonel,' says he. 'Been here all night?' I gasped. 'Oh, no,' says he; 'had cup of coffee at stall by Westminster Bridge, bought a few hats in the New Cut, and, you see, I've planted them out.' So he had, by Gad! Every corner-seat taken, and he prone in JEMMY LOWTHER'S. 'Weren't enough o' them,' TANNER said, with his sixpenny snigger; 'couldn't leave put our revered leaders, TIM HEALY and O'BRIEN, you know. So just took off my coat, flopped it down for TIM, hung the waist-coast on a knob, and there's WILLIAM O'BRIEN'S place secured for the night. Now, if you'd like a seat, you'll find one above the Gangway; or if you want to come and sit by me, here you are. I've got a necktie, a collar, and a pair of braces to spare; if you've any particular friends in your mind, why, we'll get seats for them.' No knowing what a fellow like TANNER would do in these circumstances. Even his trowsers not sacred. So made best of bad job, and here I am. At least, better off than JEMMY LOWTHER, evicted without compensation for disturbance."

Conversation interrupted by loud cheer. Mr. G. marching with head erect, and swinging stride, to take the Oath and his seat. Necessary by Standing Orders that two Members shall accompany new Member on these occasions to certify identity and prevent guilty impersonation. It's a wise child that knows his own father, but HERBERT, walking on one side of Premier, with MARJORIBANKS on other, ready to testify. Clerk at table, thus assured all was right, administered Oath and then conducted Premier up to SPEAKER, presenting the new Member.

"Mr. GLADSTONE, I presume," said SPEAKER, making a motion towards extending his hand.

"Yes, Sir," said the new Member, nervously.

"Dear me!" said the SPEAKER, now shaking hands. "I've often heard of you. I daresay you'll soon get accustomed to the place, and will, I hope, be comfortable." Mr. G. bowed, and retired to his seat. SPEAKER suffered succession of shocks as in same way were brought up and introduced to him, SQUIRE OF MALWOOD, JOHN MORLEY, CAMPBELL-BANNERMAN, the Count MUNDELLANI, GEORGE TREVELYAN, The Boy ASQUITH, and quite a host of new acquaintances.

_Business done._--New Members took their seats. Address moved.

_Thursday Night._--Something like flash of old times to-night. Of course, it came from Irish quarter, and it was SAUNDERSON who kindled the torch. Colonel presented himself early in sitting on corner bench below Gangway. This apparently reverted to possession of JEMMY LOWTHER. He lent it to Colonel for an hour, sitting on other side of him. How they secured the place is a mystery, darkened by temporary disappearance of TANNER. "Where is TANNER?" Members ask, looking, not without suspicion, on placid face and generally respectable appearance of JEMMY LOWTHER. Last seen, not exactly in company of JEMMY and the Colonel, rather in conflict for the corner-seat. LOWTHER has the seat; lends it to SAUNDERSON. But where is TANNER?

"Oh, _he_'s all right," said LOWTHER, with forced smile, when JUSTIN MCCARTHY, with ill-feigned indifference, inquired after the lamb missing from his fold. "Bad sixpence, you know; always turns up," JEMMY added. But his merriment forced, and SAUNDERSON abruptly changed subject.

Evidently a case for SHERLOCK HOLMES; must place it in his hands.

Doubtless it was with object of diverting attention from a ghastly subject that SAUNDERSON led up to row alluded to. In course of remarks on release of Gweedore prisoners, he alluded to Father MCFADDEN as "a ruffian." Irish Members not used to language of that kind. Howled in pained indignation; the Colonel, astonished at his own moderation, varied the phrase by calling the respected P.P. "a murderous ruffian." Shouts of horror from compatriots closely massed behind. TIM HEALY, in particular, boiling with indignation at use of language of this character addressed to gentlemen from whom one had difference of opinion on public matters. Nothing would content them short of absolute and immediate withdrawal. Colonel declined to withdraw. Uproar rose in ungovernable fury. Every time Colonel opened his mouth to continue his remarks, an Irish Member (so to speak) jumped down his throat.

Considerable proportion of Ministerial majority had disappeared in this fashion, when happy thought occurred to JOHN DILLON. Hotly moved that SAUNDERSON "be no longer heard." Considering he had not been heard for fully five minutes, this joke excellent. SPEAKER, however, wouldn't see it. COLONEL trumped the card by moving Adjournment of Debate. Mr. G. interposed, adjured SAUNDERSON to put end to scene by withdrawing expression objected to.

Colonel, hitherto obdurate, found irresistible the stately appeal from Premier. "Certainly," said he, ever ready to oblige; "I will withdraw the words 'murderous ruffian,' and substitute the expression, excited politician." This accepted as perfectly satisfactory. Terms apparently synonymous; but the latter, on the whole, less irritating to susceptible nerves. Irish members round about fell on Colonel's neck; embraced him with tears; gently disengaging himself, he proceeded uninterrupted to the end of his address.

"Capital title that," said GEORGE NEWNES, who always has eye to business. "Shall start a new Weekly; lead off with serial Novel by Colonel SAUNDERSON, entitled _The Murderous Ruffian; or, the Excited Politician_. Sure to take."

All very well, this cleverly conceived diversion. But where is Dr. TANNER? _Business done._--Debate on Address.

_Friday Night._--Still harping on Ireland. Began with row round issue of Writ for South Meath. ESMONDE, one of innumerable Whips present House possesses, says the business was his. "Then why didn't you do it?" asked NOLAN. "As you didn't seem disposed to move, I do." Nationalists want to get North Meath Election finished first; Parnellites don't. So ESMONDE is in no hurry to move Writ, and Colonel NOLAN is. Pretty, in these circumstances to hear NOLAN with his indignant inquiry, "Is the moving of Writs to be taken as an Election dodge?"

After Ireland, Uganda. SAGE OF QUEEN ANNE'S GATE talked for hour and half. Later, rose to blandly explain that this was only half his speech; rest will be delivered when he brings question up again on Supplementary Vote. As Mr. G. says, this is fair notice, and every Member may determine for himself whether he will forego a portion of the promised treat. _Business done._--Talking.

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OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.