Chapter 2

_A Loyal Old Lady._ Ah, depend upon it, this Imperial Institoot 'ull do good to Trade. Why, there's one o' them men with the iced lemonade cans sold out a'ready!

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HOW'S THAT FOR--HIGH-TEA?

[A learned Judge is recently reported to have anxiously inquired the meaning of "high-tea."]

His Lordship looked puzzled. He ransacked his brain; His once beaming brow was contracted with pain. Till my Lord stopped the Counsel, in saying, "Let's see, Before you proceed, what is meant by 'high-tea'?

"I was called to the Bar such a long time ago! But I flatter myself that I've learnt now to know All the ropes pretty well, yet completely at sea I confess that I am with this curious 'high-tea.'

"Now I own that I know an Oxonian 'wine,' Though a 'cocoa' at Newnham is more in my line, Whilst dinner and lunch are familiar to me. So is supper. But what--tell me, _what_ is 'high-tea'?"

The Counsel explained in his very best style, (Though he often indulged, on the sly, in a smile,) And the Judge was as eager as eager could be To learn all the rites that belong to "high-tea."

But the sequel to all was a square little note Next day from a blue-blooded Duchess who wrote To the Judge, and this Dame of the highest degree Had invited his Lordship to come to--HIGH-TEA!

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DIARY OF A "H. D."

(_At the Service of the Departmental Committee on the Treatment of Inebriates._)

_Monday._--I am afraid that I can no longer resist the temptation to return to my customary diet. This morning my breakfast was spoiled by finding that the _piece de resistance_ was corked. And this when I pay 96_s._ a dozen, and the vintage is 1884! However, it could not be helped, and I managed to exist until lunch. Then came another disappointment. I had purposely ordered a light repast, as I had not much appetite. But I did intend to take it with soda-water--not neat. At dinner I managed to get through a biscuit, and as it was "devilled," it gave me renewed relish for the morning's champagne. This time the bottles were in excellent condition, and I quite forgot that earlier in the day one of them had been corked. All in the half-dozen were in perfect condition--especially the last magnum. I do not know how I got to bed.

_Tuesday._--When I find that I have not removed my boots overnight, I know that I require a pick-me-up. A friend joined me at breakfast, and we both thought the champagne excellent. My friend BROWN, or perhaps it was JONES, and now I come to think of it, it may have been ROBINSON. And yet, when I consider the matter, there may have been three of them. I tried to count them, and it took me half the morning. Well, BROWN, or whoever he was, is a very good fellow. Most amusing, and an excellent audience. He laughs at everything. Whether you mean it to be funny or not, he laughs. I like him as a brother. A thoroughly good fellow. We had a most interesting discussion about the right pronunciation of Constitution. He said it was in two syllables. I said it was in one. I think I was right. We had a long chat about it after dinner. First we talked about it over the port, and then under the table. I don't know how I managed to get home, but I have a firm belief that it was all right--quite all right.

_Wednesday._--Found my boots again on my feet when recovering consciousness. So this is the second time I must have slept in them. I feel excessively melancholy. I have wept very much, and were it not for the supporting-powers of whiskey, I am sure I should he much worse. However, there is only one thing to be done--to keep at it. One bottle down, another come on. I have floored no end of a lot of them. Strange to say that I am now happy after all my sorrow of this morning. Everything is right but the lamp-posts. They are all wrong. Getting in my way on my road home. I feel awfully tired. However, seems to be my duty to interfere in a street-row.

_Thursday._--It appears I had an altercation with the police last night. I am free, but sorrowful. I really must put myself under restraint. I feel almost certain that I have given way to intemperance. On appealing to BROWN (or whoever he is), he says I have been as drunk as a fly for ages. This hurts me very much. Only thing to do is to retire into a retreat. Have, with the assistance of BROWN (or whoever he is), drawn up the application. It looks right enough. And, as this is my last chance for some time to come, I and BROWN (or whoever he is) are going to make a night of it.

_Friday._--Boots again! BROWN (or whoever he is) called with two doctors. I said I couldn't be bothered with them. BROWN (or whoever he is) said I must. So I saw them. They say that the Act requires that I must understand what I am doing. All right--going into retreat. Word "retreat" should be pronounced as one syllable. All right, they have made the statutory declaration.

_Saturday._--Here I am. Charming place, away from drink, and ought to do well for the next fortnight. Can't remember how long I promised to stay, but know it was for some considerable time. I have just seen the Superintendent. He says he is very sorry, but I cannot stay any longer. This, in spite of it appearing that I have signed an application undertaking to remain for life. Can't make it out. Rather vague about what I have been doing during the week, but know I wanted to cure myself from habitual inebriety. Superintendent says he must turn me out under the statute. Appears that I signed the application for admission when I was not absolutely sober. Can't be helped. Out I go. Well, there are worse things in the world than whiskey and port. I have a notion that I am booked for another night in my boots!

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THE RECENTLY-ELECTED R.A.'S.

The pictures these talented gentlemen show Monotonous never appear; Waves, woods, and (say) Wenice, MACWHIRTER & Co. Depict for us year after year.

WOODS always paints Venice, the place that brought forth A Moor, but MOORE'S chattels and goods Are seas, not calm south ones, but those of the north, Whilst NORTH and MACWHIRTER paint woods.

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A DEBT OF HONOUR.--Will the verse described as _Ode_ by Mr. WILLIAM MORRIS be paid with the Poet Laureateship?

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OUR OWN AMBASSADOR.

_Mr. Punch, meeting Columbia at the World's Fair, thus greeteth her:--_

COLUMBIA by Lake Michigan A treasure-dome did late decree; And all the world, in summer, ran, In numbers measureless by man, The Wondrous Show to see! There many miles of fertile ground With walls and towers were girdled round: And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills Surrounding halls of vast machinery. And all earth's products, from fine arts to pills, Massed in that maze by that great inland sea.

Fast, from that deep romantic chasm which slanted Through Colorado, the Grand Canon; over Yellowstone's marvel--teeming miles enchanted; Far-sweeping prairies erst by redskins haunted; Steaming and railing, like bee-swarms to clover, The world-crowd swept, with ceaseless turmoil seething; It seemed the earth in eager pants was breathing In a great race to see who should be first Into that many-acred Show to burst, And conquering COLUMBIA there to hail Creation-licker on colossal scale. By Michigan's large lake, once and for ever, Surpassing other Shows, in park, by river, O'er miles meandering, this last Yankee Notion Through wood and meadow like a river ran, Vast Exposition of the Arts of Man! Hyde Park compared therewith stirred small emotion, And proud COLUMBIA, waving Stripes and Stars, Cried, "The White City whips the Champ de Mars!"

The shadow of that dome of treasure Floated midway on the wave. (See CASTAIGNE'S drawings--they're a pleasure-- In the May _Century_ pictured brave.) It was a miracle of rare device, Costing "a pile," but cheap at any price! A damsel with a five-stringed "Jo" In a vision once I saw; It was an Alabama maid, And on her banjo light she played, Singing of sweet Su-san-nah! Could I revive within me Amphion's lyric song, To such a deep delight 'twould win me As the music loud and long That sure did raise this dome in air, That mighty dome!--those halls of price! COLUMBIA'S magic set them there, And all who see cry, "Rare! O rare! This beats great KUBLA KHAN'S device! Chicago outsoars Xanadu! COLUMBIA'S World's Fair here on view Eclipses SHEDAD'S Paradise!"

There, Madam! _The_ British Ambassador, _Punch_, Has borrowed the lyre of the Opium-eater To praise your unparalleled feat! By his hunch 'Twould tax that great master of magic and metre To do it full justice. To paint such a vision The limner need call on the aid of the Poppy. It is a Big Blend of the Truly Elysian, And (you'll comprehend!) the Colossally Shoppy! Mix HAROUN ALRASCHID with Mr. MCKINLEY, And Yellowstone Park with a Persian Bazaar, And _then_ the _ensemble_ is sketched in but thinly. For brush and for pen 'tis too mighty by far. The fragment of COLERIDGE hinted at wonders His Dream might have shown, had it ever been finished. COLUMBIA, I bear o'er the ocean that sunders But cannot un-kin us, the love undiminished Of all whom I speak for--that's England all over-- Here's luck, in a bumper, to you and your Show! Ambassador _Punch_, your Admirer and Lover, Believes the World's Fair will turn out a Great Go!

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MUSIC IN MAY.--Albert Hall gave a good Concert last Wednesday night. C. V. STANFORD'S "_East to West_," libretto by Poet SWINBURNE, is cleverish. To encores Sir JOSEPH BARNBY says, as a rule, "Not for Sir JOSEPH." Quite right. Miss PALLISER, known as Miss BUCKINGHAM PALLISER, because she sang at a Court Concert, charming; and Mr. E. J. LLOYD as _The Old Obadiah_, excellent. Chorus, like the weather, very fine; Orchestra set fair, or fair set. Hall full, but, now and again, it's a Hall-full place for sound.

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ANILINE.

(_After Tennyson's "Adeline."_)

All around one daily sees Dreadful dyes of Aniline. Worn by women fat and thin, Bonnet, bodice, back and breast. One can hardly call thee fair, With thy fierce magenta glare, With thy green, the green of peas, Violet, and all the rest. What appalling tints are thine, Showy, glowy Aniline!

Whence did modern women get Such a gorgeous array? Dear to 'ARRY'S 'ARRIET On a 'appy 'oliday, 'Owlin', out on 'Ampstead 'Eath, From the 'ill to 'im beneath. Also dear to girls who sell Flowers in the London street, They have always loved thee well In their frocks and feathers neat. Why revive those tints of thine, Antiquated Aniline?

Thou hast almost made us blind Under England's cloudless skies; Low-toned tints of Orient, Such as Turkish rugs adorn, Would be better for our eyes-- Now upon the pavement bent Since such blazers have been worn. Say, has Paris sent to us Dyes so dreadfully defined? Do the tyrant _modistes_ bring Colours so calamitous, Mixed in ways more fearful still, In this strangely sunny spring? Oh, before thou mak'st us ill, Take away that glare of thine, Unaesthetic Aniline!

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SALE OF THE CLIFDEN AND HIGH PRICE PICTURES.

--"The Wife of Burgomaster Six" went for over L7000. This wife of Burgomaster Half-a-dozen was a marvellous specimen of a woman. The Burgomaster was so faithful a husband that "Six to One" has long since become a homely proverb.

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A USEFUL TOOLE.--_Mr. Punch_ was much surprised one day last week to see on the evening newspaper placards:--

TOOLE IN THE BOX. A LUCKY DOG.

Was "the Box" a new piece to be put on at the distant period when _Walker, London_, fails to attract? No! The hero of _Homburg_ had only been helping in the _Lucky Dog_ Fight--merely a case of _Verbum Sapte et Alport_, or a Word for SAPTE and ALPORT.

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THE SHORTEST PASSAGE ON RECORD.--Aberdeen to Canada at a pen-stroke.

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SIC ITUR AD--ASTOR!

[The American Millionnaire has purchased Cliveden.]

RULE, BRITANNIA! 'Twas Cliveden's fair walls which first heard That stout patriot strain--which may now sound absurd "_Yankee Doodle_" indeed might more fittingly ring "In Cliveden's proud alcove," which POPE stooped to sing. O Picknickers muse; and, O oarsmen, repine! Those fair hanging woods, BULL, no longer are thine. Our high-mettled racers may pass o'er the sea-- Shall sentiment challenge _thy_ claims, L. S. D.? Our pictures may go without serious plaint-- What are the best pictures but canvas and paint? Our Press? Let the alien toff take his pick. When the Dollar dictates shall mere patriots kick? Our hills and our forests? If Oil-kings appear, And want them--for cash--as preserves for their deer. Down, down with mere pride--so they're down with the dust! Mammon's word is the great categorical Must! The Dollar's Almighty, the Millionnaire's King! Sell, sell _anyone_ who'll bid _high--anything_. What offers for--London? Who bids for--the Thames? Cracks go, Cliveden follows. What Briton condemns? Cash rules. For the Dollar-King BULL shies his castor. Buy! Buy! That's the cry, JOHN. _Sic itur ad_--ASTOR!

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BOOKED AT THE LYCEUM BOX-OFFICE.--Four nights a week _Becket_ is given. Programme is varied on the other two nights. A simple gentleman said to the Clerk at the Box-Office, "I want two stalls." _The Clerk._ "_For Becket?_" "No," returned the simple one; "for _me_."

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SOMETHING FOR NOTHING.

DEAR MR. PUNCH,--From a communication to one of the daily papers, it appears that "a hundred ladies and gentlemen who find the works of HENDRIK IBSEN (perhaps not all for exactly the same reasons, but who agree in finding them) among the most interesting productions of the modern theatre, have guaranteed the estimated expenses of a series of twelve performances, at which three of IBSEN'S plays will be presented." This arrangement is carried out by "each guarantor receiving in seats at the current theatrical prices the full value of his subscription," as "the State will not subsidize a theatre, and no millionnaire seems inclined to endow one."

This is clear enough, but it has occurred to me that, as after the first few performances there may be a goodly number of untenanted seats, it would be as well to provide auxiliary aid to fill them. It would scarcely be fair to call upon the guarantors to pay the audience to be present at the "entertainments" provided for their amusement. And yet, unless the houses are good, the actors will not do themselves justice, and the plays of HENDRIK IBSEN will suffer in consequence. I fear that it would be revolting to humanity to insist upon the attendance of the less intelligent inmates of the Asylum for Idiots, and yet here would be an appropriate path out of the difficulty. Under the circumstances, could not the State (with the aid of a short Act of Parliament) still render assistance? I see no reason why thieves and other dishonest characters should not have a portion of their sentences remitted on condition that they attended the IBSEN performances. Such an arrangement would save the rate-payers the expense of the prisoners' keep. The audience I have suggested would also be free from temptation, for when they were assisting at a representation of one of IBSEN'S plays, I venture to believe they would find nothing worth stealing.

A PRACTICAL MAN.

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ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.

EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M.P.

_House of Commons, May 8._--"What a day we are having, to be sure!" said CHAMBERLAIN, rubbing his hands and smiling delightedly. Things certainly pretty lively to begin with; just got into Committee on Home-Rule Bill; CHARLIE (my DARLING) was to have opened Debate with Amendment on first line of First Clause; but, as he subsequently explained to sympathetic Committee, he was weighed down with feeling of diffidence. House, touched with this unusual weakness on part of Member for Deptford, readily accepted volunteered service of CHAMBERLAIN, who undertook to say a few words on another Amendment whilst DARLING was recovering.

No diffidence about JOSEPH. As he observed in stormiest epoch of sitting, he was as cool as a cucumber. "A cucumber with full allowance of vinegar and pepper," SQUIRE of MALWOOD added, in one of those asides with which he varies the silence of Treasury Bench. Well there was someone at that temperature. Committee, take it all together, in volcanic mood. Peculiarity of situation, as SAUNDERSON put it, with some mixing of metaphor, was that "it was the cucumber that kept the pot a-boiling." Whenever any sign of placidity was visible, JOSEPH sure to appear on scene, rub someone's hair the wrong way, or stir up some slumbering lion with long pole.

"Ever stop to watch the Punch show in the streets, TOBY?" said PLUNKET. "No, I suppose not; rather personal; recall days before you went into politics. Confess I always do; been chuckling just now over idea that here we have the whole thing played out. There's _Mr. Punch_ in person of Mr. G. Up comes a head, GRANDOLPH'S, or someone else's; down comes the baton in the form of the Closure. Everyone supposes that Law and Order are established and things will go smoothly, when suddenly up springs JOEY, cool as a cucumber, and upsets everything again. There's nothing new under the sun, not even proceedings in obstruction of Home-Rule Bill."

After dinner SOLICITOR-GENERAL discovered seated on Treasury Bench. A great thirst for speech from him suddenly afflicted Opposition. Mr. G. spoke, and JOHN MORLEY moved the Closure, but nothing would satisfy them save speech from RIGBY. Pauses in conversation were filled by cries upon his name. He sat unresponsive, looking wiser than ever, but still unspeakably wise.

DARLING'S Amendment got rid of with assistance of Closure. GRANDOLPH rushed in; hotly moved to report progress. Only ten o'clock; two hours more before Debate adjourned. This merrily filled up with divisions, shouting, and scenes. GRANDOLPH'S motion to Report Progress being negatived on division. PRINCE ARTHUR moved that Chairman leave the Chair, division on which just tided Committee over twelve o'clock, without chance of doing more work.

"I feel twelve years younger," said GRANDOLPH, coming in from last division. "Reminds me of first Session of 1880 Parliament, when we sat below Gangway there, and bandied about these alternative resolutuions, me moving to Report Progress; then, when we came back again, WOLFFY, GORST, or sometimes, to give the boy a turn, PRINCE ARTHUR moved that Chairman leave the Chair. That was long before he came into his princedom. House of Commons pretty dull these six years back. After all, it's the same old place, and, if we give our mind to it, we can have the same old game."

_Business done._--Got into Committee on Home Rule Bill.

_Thursday._--Noisiest evening we have enjoyed since Parliament elected. Peculiarity of situation was that everybody, not excluding Chairman of Committees, strenuously anxious to preserve order. Quiet enough till CHAMBERLAIN appeared on scene, then followed the ordinary cool-cucumbery results. TIM HEALY torn with anxiety that JOSEPH should limit himself strictly to Motion before Committee. Sort of triangular duel; JOSEPH at corner Bench below Gangway to right of Chair; TIM in corresponding position opposite; MELLOR in (and out of) Chair; all three on their feet simultaneously; Committee assisting in general desire for peace and order by tumultuous shouting. TIM fired furiously at JOSEPH; JOSEPH answered shot for shot; Chairman pegged away alternately at both.

Then GRANDOLPH, finding temptation irresistible, romped in. "I move," he said, "that the words be taken down." Very well; quite so; but what words? The Chamber was full of words, surging like the waters at Lodore. Which particular ones would GRANDOLPH like taken down? Turned out that his desire centred upon almost the only words that had not been uttered. "I distinctly heard the Member for Louth say, 'You are knocked up.'" So GRANDOLPH solemnly declared, standing at table. Whilst Irish Members popped up like parched peas on Benches below Gangway, CHAMBERLAIN took opportunity of looking over his notes, and Chairman, standing at table, forlornly wrung his hands, TIM HEALY sat a model of Injured Innocence. As it turned out he, by rare chance, had not spoken at all. This made clear upon testimony of MACARTNEY and JOHNSTON of Ballykilbeg. What TIM felt most acutely was, not being thus groundlessly charged with disorderly speech, but that GRANDOLPH, for whom he has a warm respect, should imagine that if he _had_ an observation to offer in the circumstances, it would be one so frivolously harmless as that cited. To observe to somebody "You are knocked up," might, with tone of commiseration thrown in, be a friendly, almost an affectionate, remark. Why the words, if uttered at all, should be taken down, no one could even guess. TIM sat in deep dejection, overborne by this unexpected and undeserved contumely. Parched-pea business on Benches round him became contagious; MELLOR up and down in the Chair with corresponding motion; SWIFT MACNEILL shouting something at top of his voice; Ross rising to explain; JOHNSTON of Ballykilbeg actually explaining; MACARTNEY saying something; TOMMY BOWLES, not to be out of it, moving that somebody else's words be taken down. At length, in comparative lull in storm, Chairman adroitly signalled to CHAMBERLAIN, who continued his speech. Members, generally, gratefully availed themselves of his interposition to take their breath.