Chapter 2

_Thursday._--Little difficulty arisen in connection with Budget. SQUIRE faced by deficit of million and half. This he met by expedient that will be historical, as affording JOKIM opportunity for a popular jape. The SQUIRE has dropped his penny in the slot, in accordance with directions, pulls out the drawer, and finds there is something more than the sum necessary to balance the year's account. That is all very well; but there are some amateur CHANCELLORS of the EXCHEQUER who would do great things with the odd L20,000 or L30,000 which remains as surplus. CLARK wants Graduated Income-tax; BARTLEY proposes Abatement on Incomes below L200; whilst GRANT LAWSON would let farmers off with half the proposed increase. Best of all is, ALPHEUS CLEOPHAS, who would straightway abolish the tax on tea. The keen insight of ALPHEUS notes the little difficulty about the deficit.

"The CHANCELLOR of the EXCHEQUER," he observed, in his most judicial manner, "may ask me to suggest another source of revenue." The SQUIRE pricked up his ears; the Committee sat attentive. If ALPHEUS CLEOPHAS had given his great mind to consideration of the subject, it might be regarded as settled. All waited for his next utterances. "That," he continued, in steely tones, "is the CHANCELLOR of the EXCHEQUER'S business. Mine is to carry out the Newcastle Programme." ALPHEUS CLEOPHAS thereupon resumed his seat, leaving the SQUIRE gloomily facing the dead wall of his deficit.

_Business done._--Budget Bill passed report stage.

_Friday Night._--Some young bloods below Gangway, on Ministerial side, in distinctly low spirits. On Tuesday night, stage of Budget Bill being taken, with ten minutes to spare, ASQUITH nimbly moved reference of Employers' Liability Bill to Grand Committee. Opposition, who want it referred to Select Committee, were under impression Mr. G. had promised discussion should not be taken till Thursday or Friday. Last night CHAMBERLAIN protested that they had been betrayed, and deceived. Young bloods below Gangway disposed to chuckle over this spectacle. Mr. G., on contrary, takes it seriously to heart. Having got Bill referred to Grand Committee, positively agrees to rescind Order, and begin all over again.

"It's very seldom," says the SAGE OF QUEEN ANNE'S GATE, in most melancholy mood, "that our side show themselves capable of doing a smart thing. When, by chance, it is accomplished, Mr. G. comes along, and coolly undoes it."

To-day, nearly two hours spent in discussing question; Bill, eventually, remitted to Grand Committee, as it had been left at midnight on Tuesday.

"Shan't play!" cries CHAMBERLAIN. "All very well for you, with your majority, to bowl us over, but you won't gain any time by it. You may take a horse to the Grand Committee, but you can't make him discuss your Bill."

_Business done._--Budget Bill through.

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Q. E. D.

(_By a Grumpy Old Bachelor._)

"'Tis a mad world, my masters!" Grim LOMBROSO Corroborates mild SHAKSPEARE in this matter. And, though _his_ demonstration seems but so-and-so, No doubt the world's as mad as any hatter, The sweeter sex especially! 'Tis sad, But that rule's absolute, depend upon it! 'Tis obvious all women _must_ be mad, Because--there is a "b" in _every_ bonnet!

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WILDER IDEAS;

_Or, Conversation as she is spoken at the Haymarket._

_The Disciple._ Ah, that supper after the Theatre! It was the unspeakable following the unplayable. I feel so seedy!

_The Master._ Nay, but have I not told you that the two letters to follow "X. S." are "S. and B.?" And you have yourself said that "Soda and Brandy is the last refuge of the--digestion."

_The Disciple._ Hang it! I can survive everything--except the cast-off clothes of my own epigrams,--or, by the bye, death.

[_Exit from this life, to prove it._

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Mem. on the Behring-Sea Business.

A Forty-hours' speech by magniloquent CARTER! That Behring Tribunal has caught a Tartar! Whatever the upshot one cannot but feel 'Tis a fine illustration of "Say and Seal!" Though _Bunsby_ might say of this lengthy oration, "The _Behring_ will lie in the application."

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APPROPRIATE SONG (_for anybody connected with the Tourist-Managing firm of Gaze, on hearing a Lady say that she was "going to try a Cook."_)

"Ah me! she has gone from our Gaze, That beautiful girl from our door!"

(_The remainder can be added ad libitum, and sung whenever opportunity permits._)

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"A MOVE ON THE BOARD" IN THE RIGHT DIRECTION.--Our Surprising School-Board has voted in favour of allowing its Industrial School youths to enjoy "reasonable recreation" on Sundays. Its version of Sir WILLIAM JONES'S distich would be something as follows:--

The morn at Church, the afternoon at play, Will serve to while the Day of Rest away.

Apparently it looks favourably on a modicum of Sunday Cricket or Football, and does not taboo even the enormity of Lawn-tennis. As against that eminently strict Sabbatarian, Mrs. GRUNDY, the tennis-player may defend himself by a reference to the "services" in which he is engaged.

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A SWINBURNE!

(_See "Nineteenth Century."_)

I.

Three times one are always three; Waves are stormy on the sea; Bonnets oft contain a bee; Bear delights in bun. The ALGERNON, that ever Is linked to CHARLES, shall never From poet SWINBURNE sever, The three appear as one.

II.

Once he lashed and slashed the Priest, Chopped him up to make a feast, Called him brute and called him beast, Black as crows are black. But now he rhymes "together" (See CALVERLY) with "weather": He might have thrown in "heather," A rhyme that men call "hack."

III.

Clash the cymbal, beat the gong; Sense is weak, but sound is strong; Such is SWINBURNE'S latest song, Made by him alone. See WATTS and KNOWLES around us,-- JAMES KNOWLES with cheques hath bound us To write; the Muse hath found us With Putney Hill as throne.

IV.

When the wind's Nor-West by West, Man and beast are rarely blessed. Sometimes I like mutton best, Often I like veal. A poet (_not_ a puny 'un) Who raves about the Union, And hymns the States Communion, Takes none the less his meal.

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In the City. Thursday Last.

_First Member of Stock Exchange_ (_Unionist_). I say, JONES, you weren't in it! Why didn't you join us marching in procession, with CLARKE carrying the Union Jack, eh?

_Second Member of the House._ Why didn't I join you? Because I didn't want to make a Union-Jack-ass of myself!

[_Exit, before the retort is possible._

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A Pair of Spectacles.

(_After hearing a much interrupted Speech in the Commons._)

When a batsman has to go To the tent with a "round O," He knows _he's_ not made a hit. When a Statesman's hitting well, The round "Oh's" around him swell (Dullards' substitutes for wit). In debate or cricket score, The "round O" means _nought_--no more!

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May 10, 1893.

MR. PUNCH'S VISION AT THE OPENING OF THE IMPERIAL INSTITUTE.

_This Spring's soft beauty is a joy for ever; Its loveliness increases; it will never Pass to forgetfulness; we still must keep Fond memories of this Maytime, calm as sleep Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing. Therefore, on this May morning are we wreathing A flowery band, to bind us round the earth, Spite of despondence, of the inhuman dearth Of patriot natures, Mammen-ridden days, And Toil's unhealthy and o'erdarkened ways Made for our mending: yes, in spite of all This Mayday Vision moves away the pall From our dark spirits!_

KEATS _adapted to the occasion._

Thy pardon, _Adonais_, pray, That on this memorable morning We twist those lovely lines astray, As modish maid, her charms adorning A trail may twine of eglantine Into the formal "set" of Fashion. Yet wouldst thou gladly lend thy line To present need; for patriot passion, Love of the little sea-girt land, Has ever fired our English singers. Of England's fame, from strand to strand, Their songs have been the widest wingers. So, _Adonais_, this great day Were "Welcome as the flowers in May!"

The "flowery band" of KEATS'S song Our Empire's sons to-day are wreathing; Long may it bind, and blossom long. The May-flower's fragrance round us breathing Is nothing sweeter than the thought To patriot hearts of loyal union. Together we have toiled and fought, But gay to-day is our communion. BRITANNIA'S helm is crowned with flowers, BRITANNIA'S trident's wreathed with posies, And Fancy sees in Flora's showers Thistles and Shamrocks blent with Roses. The Indian Lotus let us twine With gorgeous bloom from Afric's jungles Canadian Birch with Austral Pine. Tape-bound Officialdom oft bungles; Some blow too hot, some breathe too cold, O'er-chill are some, and some o'er-gushing; But the same blood-stream, warm and bold, Through all our veins is ever rushing; And so to all true hearts to-day Comes "Welcome as the flowers in May!"

A QUEEN is with us, to evince Imperial sympathy unfailing; And pleasant to our genial PRINCE This proof that all seems now plainsailing; With his great purpose. Some sneered, "Whim!" But general shouts now drown their sneering. A special salvo's due to _him_ Amidst to-day's exuberant cheering. Hail the Imperial Institute! And hail the patient Prince promoter! The man who's neither cynic brute, Nor phrase-led sycophantic doter, May echo that. Our patriot tap Is old, well-kept and genuine stingo; Not the chill quidnunc's cold cat-lap, Nor crude fire-water of the Jingo, But sound as good old English ale, Full-bodied, fragrant, mild, and mellow. To try that tap _Punch_ will not fail, Nor any other right good fellow. A bumper of that draught to-day Is "Welcome as the flowers in May!"

Weave on! And may that "flowery band" Be surer bond than forged steel fetters. Ho! Hands all round! Whilst hand-in-hand We need not fear the fierce sword-whetters Who'd make the pleasant earth a camp, And stain blood-red the white May-flowers. May echoes of no mailed tramp Disturb ye in your Spring-deck'd bowers, Glad garland-weavers! Heaven bestow "Sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing," One thing above all others know, Ye who the earth-round band are wreathing, To-day, to-morrow, _any_ day, You're "Welcome as the flowers in May!"

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"PLAYING THE DUSE."--MR. HORACE SEDGER announces the engagement at the Lyric of Mlle. DUSE. The Manager must be prosperous; at all events, _he_ is not going to the Duse, but the Duse is coming to him. And as to the Theatre--well, if it isn't a success, the Duse is in it!

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"SHE ANSWERED 'YUSS'!"--The most recent and most important change of name is from "I MAY" to "I WILL."

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* * * * *

THANK YOU!

(_For a Photograph, inscribed "With Ethel Travers's kind regards."_)

It was only a week in the brightest of summers, We played tennis and golf, and, when ended the day, We made furious love as two amateur mummers, Whilst Act IV. saw us One in the orthodox way.

So my holiday ended. I begged a reminder, I asked you to send me a portrait that should Be a sweet recollection, and you, who were kinder Than I ever deserved or dared hope, said you would.

Then we parted. Life seemed to be painfully lonely, Though I dreamt of a future with you by my side, Till my common-sense seemed to say, "_You_, who are only, Just a poor needy teacher, have _Her_ for a bride!"

It was true, and I knew it. Yet why had I met you? Why had Fate kept such bitter-sweet fortune in store? So determined I set myself then to forget you, And to let my thoughts dwell on yourself nevermore.

First your hair with its gold, next your eyes with their laughter, I forgot in a thoroughly workman-like style. Persevering, I never desisted till after Many months I but faintly remembered your smile.

I completely forgot you (I thought) and the warning Was to save me, I chortled, a future of pain, But you undid it all with your picture this morning, And the same old, old trouble starts over again.

The Fates are a trifle hard, putting it mildly, For they well might have spared me this finishing touch Of your portrait, which speaking quite calmly yet Wildely, I admire all the more since I hate it so much.

I shall treasure it, though. Thanks--a thousand--to you, dear. When in sweet meditation your fancy runs free, Is it asking too much that a stray thought or two, dear, From your kindness of heart may come straying to me?

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POLITICS AND POLITENESS.

DEAR MR. PUNCH,--I see that the Duke of ARGYLL, when he received the freedom of the Burgh of Paisley, the other day, told the following interesting story:--

"I was going once to call on a lady in London, and when the door was opened and the servant announced my name, I saw the lady advancing to the door with a look of absolute consternation on her face. I could not conceive what had happened, and thought I had entered her room at some inconvenient moment, but, on looking over her shoulder, I perceived Mr. and Mrs. GLADSTONE sitting at the tea-table, and she evidently thought that there would be some great explosion when we met. She was greatly gratified when nothing of the kind occurred, and we enjoyed a cup of tea as greatly as we had ever done in our lives."

Now, my dear _Mr. Punch_, I have great sympathy with "the Lady," and think (with her) the meeting, as described by his Grace of ARGYLL, was mild in the extreme. If something out of the common had taken place, it would have been far more satisfactory. To make my meaning plainer, I give roughly (in dramatic form) what should have happened to have made the action worthy of the occasion.

SCENE--_A Drawing-room. Lady entertaining_ Mr. _and_ Mrs. G. _at tea. A loud knock heard without._

_Mrs. G._ (_greatly agitated_). Oh dear, I am sure it is he!

_Mr. G._ (_with calm dignity_). Do not fear--if he appears, I shall know how to deal with him.

_Lady_ (_pale but calm_). Nay, my good, kind friends, believe me, you shall not suffer from the indiscretion of the servant.

_Mrs. G._ (_pushing her husband into a cupboard_). Nay, WILLIAM, for my sake! And now to conceal myself, so that he may not suspect his presence by my proximity. [_Hides behind the curtains._

_The Duke of Argyll_ (_breaking open the door, and entering hurriedly_). And now, Madam, where is my hated foe? I have tracked him to this house. It is useless to attempt to conceal him.

_The Lady_ (_laughing uneasily_). Nay, your Grace, you are too facetious! Trace the PREMIER here! Next you will be saying that he and his good lady were taking tea with me.

_The Duke_ (_suspiciously_). And, no doubt, so they were! This empty cup, that half-devoured muffin--to whom do they belong?

_The Lady_ (_with forced gaiety_). Might I not have entertained Mr. and Mrs. JOSEPH CHAMBERLAIN, my Lord Duke?

_The Duke_ (_aside_). Can I believe her? (_Aloud._) But if it is as you say, I will send away my clansmen who throng the street without. (_Opens window and calls._) _Gang a waddy Caller Herring!_ They will now depart. (_A sneeze heard off._) What was that?

_The Lady_ (_terrified_). I fancy it was the wind--the cold wind--and now, believe me, Mr. GLADSTONE will abandon Home Rule.

_Mr. G._ (_suddenly appearing_). Never! I tell you to your face that you are a traitor! [_Sneezes, and hurriedly closes the window._

_The Duke_ (_savagely_). That sneeze shall be your last!

[_Takes up a knife lying on the table._

_Mr. G._ (_repeating the action_). I am ready, Sir!

_Mrs. G._ (_rushing between them_). Oh, WILLIAM! Do not fight!

_The Lady_ (_falling on her knees_). I prithee stay!

_Mr. G._ Never! May the better man win!

_The Duke._ So be it!

[_The Scene closes in upon a desperate duel. Curtain._

_There, Mr. Punch!_ What do you think of that? Still, perhaps, under the circumstances of the case, it is better as it is.

Yours most truly, ONE WHO NEVER PAID TWOPENCE FOR MANNERS.

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THE LITIGANT'S VADE MECUM.

_Question._ Can you tell me the best possible regulations in the universe?

_Answer._ Certainly English Common Law.

_Q._ Is English Common Law accessible to everyone?

_A._ Certainly, and if a litigant please, he or she (for sex makes no difference) can become his or her own advocate.

_Q._ When a litigant prefers to conduct a case in person, does the proceeding invariably save expense?

_A._ Not invariably, because a litigant may have odd views about the importance of evidence and the time of professional advisers.

_Q._ When a litigant is afflicted with this lack of knowledge what is the customary result?

_A._ That the defendants have to undergo the expense of a several-days' trial with counsel to match.

_Q._ Supposing that a journalist, sharply but justly, criticises the actions of a man of straw--what can the man of straw do?

_A._ With the aid of some speculative Solicitor, he can commence an action for libel.

_Q._ What benefit does the speculative Solicitor obtain?

_A._ The speculative Solicitor, if he can persuade a judge and jury to agree, will get his costs, and if the journalist wins he will find that the prosecutor or plaintiff is, indeed, a man of straw.

_Q._ Is there any redress?

_A._ None; but a wise journalist will never criticise sharply.

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THE PICK OF THE R.A. PICTURES. No. 2.

No. 139. _Ca donne a penser._ Not a more suggestive pose does any portrait possess throughout the Galleries. It is described _tout court_ as "ALBERT BRASSEY, Esq.," and 'tis the work (and the pleasure) of W. W. OULESS, R.A. "'Tis a fine work!" says BOB to 'ARRY. "O' course," returns 'ARRY JOKER. "Great! _'Ow less_ could be expected of 'im tho', I dun no." It represents an undecided moment in Mr. ALBERT BRASSEY'S life. It is as if he were Mr. "_All but_" BRASSEY, and wasn't quite certain of what he should do next. There is the writing-desk,--shall he indite a letter? If he does so, shall he take off his thick-fur coat? Or shall he go hunting, since he has on, underneath the furrin' fur, the pink of hunting perfection? Likewise he has his whip and his horn, also his boots! He's "got 'em on!" He's "got 'em _all_ on!" Or shall he hail the 5,000-ton yacht that's lying in the roads just a few yards from his open window, and go out for a cruise? He looks happy, but puzzled.

No. 167. _The Right Hon. H. H. Fowler, M.P._ "Presentation Portrait," painted by ARTHUR S. COPE. "When the Right Hon. Gentleman rose to speak, the House, with the exception of a clerk at the table and two small boys (whose presence within the precincts has never been satisfactorily accounted for) was empty."--_Extract from The Imaginary Times Parliamentary Report of that date._

No. 350. _Mrs. Keeley at the age of Eighty-six._ Looking so well and sprightly, that the Artist must have been at considerable pains to induce her to sit still just one moment for her portrait. Long may she remain with us! Our compliments to the Artist, JULIA B. FOLKARD.

No. 434. Mr. SOMERSCALES has given us the best sea-piece of the year. It shows a "_Corvette shortening sail to pick up a shipwrecked crew_." "A sale in sight appeared!"--and as the picture, so it is said, was immediately sold, so also were those who came too late to make a bid.

No. 524. _Gentleman writing._ "A nice quiet corner for a little composition away from all those speaking likenesses." J. W. FORSTER.

No. 533. This is a sad-looking little girl, painted by WILLIAM CARTER. She has an unsettled expression. Is she suffering from what the Clown calls "teezy-weezies-in-the-pandenoodles," and, as Sir JOHN MILLAIS'S "_Bubbles_" served P**RS for an advertisement, is it beyond the range of probability that this, being associated with the name of "CARTER," should be intended as a pictorial advertisement for the well-known "L-ttle L-v-r P-lls"?

No. 535. Portrait (presumably) of _C. R. Fletcher Lutwidge, Esq._ By ST. GEORGE HARE. Ha! Ha! Ha! By St. George you Ha're bound to laugh directly you look at it. You can't help it. "C. R. F. L." is chuckling to himself and saying, "Ha! Ha! I've just thought of _such_ a funny thing! Ha! Ha! Ha!" And he _is_ enjoying it so! As the song says, "O Mister (I forget the name), what a funny little man you are!"

No. 553. This, by Mr. MARKHAM SKIPWORTH, is a portrait of _Dr. E. Ker Gray, LL.D_ of St. George's Chapel, Mayfair. "KER GRAY!" it ought to be "Ker Scarlet."

No. 862. _Portrait of a Gentleman_, by PHIL R. MORRIS, A. The Portrait, annoyed at being next to SIDNEY COOPER'S, R A., "_Be it ever so humble, &c._," representing head of a jackass, and some sheepish sheep, is evidently saying to itself, "Hang the Hanging Committee! They show me as next door to a donkey."

No. 888. _The Wedding Gifts._ The pretty Bride is a bit frightened at seeing the Groom leading up two bare-back'd steeds. "Oh!" she cries, "I can't ride _them_! Why (_to her husband_) did you give me these?" "My dear," says he, "why not? Here are the bare-backed steeds, and you've already got the Ring." S. E. WALLER.

No. 892. "_Your Health!_" A Birthday Party at Mr. ERNEST HART'S. Painted by S. J. SOLOMON. As a subject, the wisdom of SOLOMON is questionable as a specimen of Hacademie Hart--ahem! However, to the toast of "_Your Health_!" as addressed to Mr. ERNEST HART, Master SOL might have added the words, "_Most Ernestly and Hartily_."

No. 928. _Exhibition of Miss Biffin_, "who has no legs to speak of." "If you saw my ancles," said _Miss Mowcher_, "I should go home and kill myself." But ARTHUR HACKER, whose capital work it is, calls it "_Circe_."

No. 937. "_It might have been_," by F. STUART SINDICI, represents NAPOLEON and WELLINGTON out walking together, in 1847, near the Horse Guards. "It might have been" _if_ .... But it wasn't--though F. STUART SINDICI went nap on it, and dreamt it. Why shouldn't JULIUS CAESAR and Lord BROUGHAM have hobnobbed together over Pommery '74 at FRASCATI'S in Regent Street, or why shouldn't the Great Duke of MARLBOROUGH and Admiral HAMILCAR of Carthage, after leaving _Hoi Adelphoi_ at the theatre, have taken supper at RULE'S in Maiden Lane? Why not? "It might have been"--of course; why, when you come to think of it, there's hardly anything that mightn't have been, _if_ it had only taken place. Such possible subjects would fill the most vast picture gallery in the _Chateau d'If_.

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