Chapter 3

PICK OF THE PICTURES.

(_New Gallery--continued._)

No. 11. "_Her First Ball_;" or, "_Train 'em up in the way she should bowl_." Portrait of little girl preparing to be a Lady-Cricketer. She has the ball in her hands, and is only waiting to cry out "Play!" G. P. JACOMB-HOOD.

No. 15. _Charming Picture of Nobody Nowhere_, Miss ANNA ALMA-TADEMA.

No. 20. _Portrait of W. Matthew Hale, Esq._ By JOHN PARKER. "All Hale!"

No. 37. "_Silver Mist._" This ought to have been the picture of a gentleman in search of a threepenny piece; but it isn't. FRED HALL.

No. 66. _The Departing Guest._ E. BURNE-JONES.

The ending of the party see, "O let us get a cab for thee!" "Nay," quoth the guest, "I've wings! so I, Like to the trout, will take a fly."

No. 112. _Alderman J. Stone-Wigg._ First Mayor of Tunbridge Wells.

Indeed you look an Alderman, 'Tis true I've seen a balder man. "J. STONE-WIGG" is the name I see, Which "Lost or Stolen-Wig" should be.

No. 160. _Portrait of Lady Simpson. Bravo_, Mr. VAL PRINSEP, A.R.A. Uncommonly good. A parody of the old song should have been selected by the Artist as a motto for the picture:--

Lady SIMPSON has a dog-- I don't know its name-- Pretty tail has dog, _incog._ Ribands round the same.

No. 170. "_The Spirit of Life._" By ARCHIE MACGREGOR. "Eh, ARCHIE mon! aiblins, 'tis just the whusky-still the Leddie's at, takin' a wee drappit i' the 'ee. And why did ye nae ca' it, 'Still Life'"?

No. 177. _Portrait of Mrs. George Lewis._ Excellent, Mr. Colour-SARGENT! N.B.--Very few "Sergeants" left; but Mr. GEORGE LEWIS has secured the best of them to paint this portrait.

No. 194. Very charming is "_The Closing of an October Day._" By GEORGE H. BROUGHTON, A.R.A. He has caught the "Early Closing Movement" to the life.

No. 242. "_In the Grip of the Sea-Wolf_"; or, "_Early Bathing at Boulogne_." E. M. HALE.

No. 324. And a good Judge too! _Portrait of Sir Douglas Straight._ The DOUGLAS, "bearded in his den"! Quarter (Sessions) Length. Sad end to a distinguished career to be "quartered, drawn, and hung"! Congratulate Artist, Miss VERA CHRISTIE, on good likeness.

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Anti-Epidemic Treatment.

(_Being Summary of Robson Roosetem Pasha's Article in New Review._)

Boil Bacillus, Or he'll kill us. From Filter filthy grown Don't drink water, Save rates per quarter, And so "Leave _well_ alone."

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COMPANION WORKS.--Shortly to appear: _My Wife's Bodice_. By the Author of _His Wife's Soul_.

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TO MY UMBRELLA.

Good, faithful friend, it seems an age Since last we met and walked together! Upon the _Daily Graphic's_ page For weeks I've watched the coming weather;

The meteorologic girl, Despite cold arms, seemed almost jolly, And made no effort to unfurl That wonderful archaic brolly.

So I, grown reckless, did as she. And gave you quite a Long Vacation; Such weather cannot always be, Or you would lose your occupation.

Think how I've treated you! A pet Might envy all the care I gave you; When worn-out with work and wet, Think how I did my best to save you!

You soon looked well, and eased my fears-- Recovered after over-pressure. When you "took silk" in other years, Think what I paid for each "refresher"!

When last it rained I had to roll You up quite wet; you've been forgotten. It rains once more. What's this? A hole? By Jove, the silk's completely rotten!

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THE STAGE-COACH FIASCO.--The Meet, which was ordered for 11:30 last Thursday, wasn't done, and so there was no Lunch.

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ON THE INCOME-TAX.

[By an already over-burdened tax-payer who derived neither enlightenment nor comfort from the wordy war about a "Graduated Income-Tax" between Mr. BARTLEY and Sir WILLIAM HARCOURT.]

"Graduation" seems vexation, "Differentiation" looks as bad. Their the-o-rie It puzzles me. But their _practice_ drives me mad!

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"THAT'S SWEAR IT IS!"--In bygone days, when the Princess's was under the management of Mr. and Mrs. CHARLES KEAN, there was a fine imposed on any member of the company who should make use of bad language in the Green-Room. One evening a distinguished actor so far forgot himself as to let slip an expletive of three simple letters, whereat Mrs. KEAN held up her hands in horror and quitted the room, followed by the actresses who happened to be present. Subsequently some wag at the Garrick Club wrote a song whereof the burden was "The Man who said 'dam' in the Green-Room." _Tempora mutantur_, and now, at the Avenue Theatre, under the management of Mr. and Mrs. KENDAL in the Green-Room and behind the scenes, as well as on the stage, "DAM" will be in everyone's mouth, as this happens to be the name of the Author of their latest successful production.

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THE NEWEST TALE OF A TUB.

(_By a Sufferer from the Modern Laundry System._)

Rub-a-rub-rub! Three ghouls at a tub: Our shirts and our collars they savagely scrub. The fronts they make bagged, The wristbands quite jagged, And send home our linen all rotten and ragged!

Scrub-a-scrub-scrub! Three fiends at a tub: In chemical bleachings they dabble and grub. Our shirts each bespatters Then brush them to tatters. The wearers get mad as March hares or as hatters!

Rub-a-scrub-scrub! Three hags at a tub: They scrape with a wire-brush, and pound with a club! Smash buttons, burst stitches, And--swell Laundry riches! _Who'll save us from this cauldron-tub's dread Three Witches?_

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The Stock Exchange, _Mr. Punch_ understands, has gone into politics. With a view to test the knowledge of the brokers who "proceshed" to the Guildhall, he asks them,--What is the Commission upon Evicted Tenants? All sellers, no buyers.

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Transcriber's Note:

Sundry broken punctuation has been corrected.