Part 1

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

VOL. 108. JUNE 1, 1895.

_edited by Sir Francis Burnand_

"LONDON AND LIVERPOOL--LITTLE AND GOOD."

It appears that the very excellent proposal of amalgamating all the local branches of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children in one national association is meeting with some opposition in Liverpool. Says the _Courier_ of that important locality, "It was Liverpool which educated London in the matter of child-protection, and probably the Londoners could still learn in Liverpool many practical lessons. And just when Liverpool is about to be trebled in extent, and have its population largely increased, seems a singularly inappropriate time to subordinate the city to London." From this it would appear that Liverpool in its growth is becoming, to use a colloquialism, "too big for its boots." Surely the benefit of the children should be the first consideration. What the size of either Liverpool or London has to do with that matter, it is difficult to say. No doubt Londoners could learn much from their Liverpool brothers. But the lesson for the moment is to discover how to best protect the little ones. And that subject can only be mastered by a display of goodwill and unselfishness on both sides.

* * * * *

SIR JOHN FRANKLIN.

[May 20, 1895: Fiftieth Anniversary of the Day when the Franklin Expedition set Sail.]

The North returned thee not to British earth. Whence on that splendid quest thou didst go forth; But when our British hearts, in sordid dearth Of pride, forget thy valour and thy worth, Those hearts must be yet colder than the North.

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* * * * *

A BAS "THE CLUB SWEEP."

DEAR MR. PUNCH,--Although you are a humorist, there is a serious side to your character. I want to appeal to that serious side. I wish to complain of the prevalence in all our West-End Co-operative Palaces of that annual pest, appropriately called "the Club Sweep." Why should it be allowed to prosper? It is a disgrace to civilisation. I know of no more painful sight than the picture of old CR[OE]SUS paying the hall-porter to put him down for a dozen places. I am delighted when those twelve positions end in blanks, or starters out of the running. And nearly as unpleasant an incident is the tableau of young JONES taking a pound chance at the same fatal lottery. Put it down, _Mr. Punch_; put it down. I repeat, "the Club Sweep" is unworthy of the civilisation of the close of the nineteenth century. Once more, Sir, put it down.

Yours, most truly,

AN OLD MEMBER OF THE HERCULES CLUB.

P.S.--I am sure the thing is a mistake. Will you believe it, I have put into my own sweep for the last thirty-five years, and have never drawn a starter! Same luck this season!

* * * * *

From the New Sarum Note-Book.

[Lord SALISBURY "believes the SULTAN to be a humane man."--_Speech at Bradford._]

LORD SALISBURY believes--

That RICHARD THE THIRD was a remarkably amiable man; especially kind to children.

That NERO was the gentlest creature that ever breathed, except CALIGULA.

That HENRY THE EIGHTH was a gentle, unassuming person; most religious and domesticated; in fact, a model husband, and the sort of man that "wouldn't harm a biby."

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ROUNDABOUT READINGS.

The Hon. GEORGE CURZON and Miss LEITER (U.S.A.) have been married. The State of Illinois is indignant. The two facts are more intimately connected than might be supposed. Four days after the wedding a resolution was introduced into the State Legislature of Illinois by a Mr. MCCARTHY, requesting the daughters of Illinois "not to accept the hand in marriage of any person who is not a citizen of the United States, as we are of opinion that the daughters of Illinois should be patriotic in their views, and should disregard the title of any foreigner, and marry none but a citizen of the United States." It is stated that the resolution "was referred to the Committee on Federal Relations." Surely a Committee on domestic relations or on titled relations would have been more appropriate.

* * * * *

The Illinois State Legislature obviously has novel ideas of its legislative duties. Imagine an English County Council treating seriously such fantastic rubbish as Mr. MCCARTHY brought before the law-makers of his State. Would it not be more to the point to look after the sons of Illinois, and to keep the hue of their resolution up to the mark? If they are laggards in love, who shall blame the British aristocrat for wooing with success the daughters of Illinois, whom their compatriot suitors abandon? Or again, if titles are so irresistible an attraction to the fair, why not establish titles in Illinois, and thus give the Earl of BANGS or the Marquis SALTONTALE that seductive influence which is apparently lacking to plain ZEDEKIAH B. BANGS, and to the unadorned JONATHAN K. SALTONTALE. For it is obviously better that the daughters of Illinois should marry than that they should waste away with an unbridaled (let the spelling pass) desire for a title.

* * * * *

At Oxford on Wednesday last the University beat Somerset by one wicket, mainly owing to the admirable batting of Mr. H. D. G. LEVESON GOWER, popularly known as "The Shrimp."

To the batsmen of Oxford, who looked very limp, Father Neptune was kind when he gave them a Shrimp: For a Shrimp on the grass is most worthy of rhyme, When he makes a firm stand, but gets runs all the time.

* * * * *

The inhabitants of Christmas Street in Bristol want to have their thoroughfare laid with wood paving. At present, according to an indignant correspondent, "the pitching in the street is so bad that it is positively dangerous for vehicular traffic ... but the risk to life and limb are entirely subservient to the parsimonious policy of our Bristol Sanitary Authority." Might I suggest Yule logs as an appropriate pavement for Christmas Street? Certainly this accident policy of the Bristol Sanitary Authority ought to be allowed to lapse.

* * * * *

I gather from a letter in the _Freeman's Journal_ that Bray is not being well treated by the Bray Township Commissioners. "If Bray is to march with the times," says the writer, "and keep pace with the laudable efforts of our Tourist Development Association," something must be done to improve the walk round Bray Head. The picture of Bray keeping pace and marching with the times by walking round its own head is too confusing for the intelligence of the dense Saxon.

* * * * *

An article in the _Scotsman_ declares that "a great laxity of costume is characteristic of modern Oxford." Straw hats and brown boots appear to abound everywhere. It is added that "Bowlers are already beginning to be preserved as relics of a bygone race." This will be glorious news for the Cambridge Eleven, for a merely preserved bowler cannot be very dangerous.

* * * * *

From a recent issue of the _Freeman's Journal_ I extract the following letter, which, it must be admitted, "makes both sides right" with a clearness that leaves nothing to be desired. Note, too, the writer's natural vexation at the idea that he "assisted the constable":--

TO THE EDITOR Of THE FREEMAN.

_114, Lower Clanbrassil Street, Dublin, May 14, 1895._

SIR,--With reference to your issue of the 13th inst., and the stolen tea from one of the London and Northern-Western vans, I beg leave to state that I in no way assisted the constable in the arrest of the prisoner, as you state; neither was there any necessity for me doing so, as he had sufficient help along with him at the time. But I did help the driver of the waggon when on the ground to recover his feet and get back to his waggon with the tea in question. My reasons for doing so were as follows--first, being a van driver myself, and I might say has been such all my lifetime, and knowing that when goods are stolen from any van in nine cases out of every ten the driver of such a van has to make good the same and be put under stoppages although no fault of his. Secondly, when I came on the scene the driver of the waggon seemed to be getting the worst of it, as the offender had two others helping him. If someone did not interfere, therefore, under those circumstances and to protect the interest of my fellow-workers, as I am always ready to do, I interfered, and under no other.--Hoping you will kindly insert this in your next issue and make both sides right, and thanking you for the same, I remain your humble servant,

HENRY PRENDERGAST.

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* * * * *

THE BOULD SOGER BOYS AT ISLINGTON.

STAGE-MANAGERS Lieut.-Col. TULLY with Lieut.-Col. TILLOTSON and Colonel ONSLOW, not to mention their talented assistants headed by Captain DANN, Master of Ring, have given us a real good show. The Olympian BOSSY KIRALFY must be anxiously awaiting the return of the natives from Islington to Kensington, and Sir DRURIOLANUS must have owned that the military managers have run him very close as a master of crowds and of thrilling dramatic situations. Who would not rush out to fight Zulus, or any other savages, to stirring sounds of First Horse Guards' band, and cheered by all sorts and kinds of inspiriting music? You march to a popular song, you build bridge to polka, you make zerebas to the lilt of a waltz, you charge to a galop, and you return victorious to the National Anthem! Hurrah for the life of a soldier, at Islington!

Here the Art of Artillery Driving can be seen to perfection: three times round, clear posts and out again to deafening cheers. Bayonet exercise of Second Battalion Scots Guards is full of point; while the display made by Gymnastic Staff of Egyptian Army shows how our soldiers can advance by leaps and bounds. Excellent device! Enemy dumbfounded and bothered to see our athletic warriors jumping over one another's heads, turning somersaults, and finally heaping themselves up into pyramids--a real Egyptian puzzle this--with hero at apex waving flag. Why, a whole army of fiercest enemies would take to their heels rather than fight with these dancing dragoons, and hosts of Mussulmans would flee before such men of muscle. For these tactics no arms required except those already naturally belonging to the corps. So inexpensive! Yet to these merry infants-in-arms the art of war is no child's-play.

The new effects, and one among the numerous attractions, is the Grand Historical Military Pageant, performed with the greatest success by the 3rd King's Own Hussars and the Buffs. Nothing buffo about the Buffs. They appear as Cavalier cavalry and infantry pikemen of JAMES THE SECOND'S time, and as cavalry and infantry from that date down through the Georgian period to the present day. The great change is noticeable in the hair, from long flowing curls and periwigs to the short crop of THOMAS ATKINS. Altogether a brilliant success, and should bring in a handsome amount for the benefit of the Military Charities, to whose funds this show makes an invaluable contribution.

* * * * *

"HONOURS EASY."--The _St. James's Gazette_ suggests that if leading play-actors are to be knighted, why not principal music-hall singers? Well, not yet; as the chief music-hall singer is already "A CHEVALIER."

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* * * * *

A DERBY DIALOGUE.

SCENE--_In Town._ JONES _meets_ BROWN.

_Jones._ Going to Epsom?

_Brown._ No, I think not. Fact is, the place gets duller year by year. The train has knocked the fun out of the road.

_Jones._ Such a waste of time. Why go in a crowd to see some horses race, when you can read all about it in evening papers?

_Brown._ Just so. No fun. No excitement. And the Downs are wretched if it rains or snows.

_Jones._ Certainly. The luncheon, too, is all very well; but, after all, it spoils one's dinner.

_Brown._ Distinctly. And champagne at two o'clock is premature.

_Jones._ And lobster-salad undoubtedly indigestible. So it's much better not to go to the Derby--in spite of the luncheon.

_Brown._ Yes,--in spite of the luncheon.

_Two hours pass. Scene changes to Epsom._

_Jones._ Hullo! You here?

_Brown._ Hullo! And if it comes to that, you here, too?

_Jones._ Well, I really found so little doing in town that I thought I might be here as well as anywhere else.

_Brown._ Just my case. Not that there's much to see or do. Silly as usual.

_Jones._ Quite. Always said the Derby was a fraud. But I am afraid, my dear fellow, I must hurry away, as I have got to get back to my party for luncheon.

_Brown._ So have I.

[_Exeunt severally._

* * * * *

GREAT AND DESERVED SUCCESS.--LYCEUM.--The First Knight!! Sir HENRY IRVING in an entirely new character. _Mr. Punch's_ sincere congratulations.

* * * * *

BOOKMAKERS ON THE BEACH.

(_A Sketch at a Sea-side Race-Meeting._)

SCENE--_The Sands at Baymouth, where some pony and horse races are being run. By the Grand Stand, and under the wall of the esplanade, about a dozen bookmakers, perched on old packing-cases, are clamouring with their customary energy. The public, however, for some reason seems unusually deaf to their blandishments and disinclined for speculation, and the bookmakers, after shouting themselves hoarse with little or no result, are beginning to feel discouraged._

_Bookmakers_ (_antiphonally_). Evens on the field! Three to one bar one! Five to one bar two! Six to one bar one! Even money _Beeswing!_ Six to one _Popgun!_ Come on 'ere. Two to one on the field! What do you want to _do?_

[_The public apparently want to look another way._

_First Bookmaker_ (_to_ Second Bookmaker). Not much 'ere to-day! Shawn't get no roast baked and biled this journey, eh?

_Second B._ (_with deep disgust_). They ain't _got_ no money! Baymouth's going down. Why, this might be a bloomin' Sunday-school treat! Blest if I believe they know what we're 'ere _for!_

_Third B._ (_after pausing to refresh himself, sardonically to_ Fourth Bookmaker). De-lightful weather, WILLIAM!

_William_ (_in a similar tone of irony_). What a glorious day, PERCY! Sech a treat to see all the people enjoyin' theirselves without any o' the silly speculation yer _do_ find sometimes on occasions like this! (_He accepts the bottle his friend passes, and drinks._) 'Ere's better luck to us all!

_Fifth B._ (_pathetically_). Don't leave your little FREDDY out! (_They DON'T leave their little FREDDY out._) Cheer up, WILLIAM, there 's 'appier days in store; there'll be Jersey comin' soon. We'll be orf to the sunny south! (_To a stranger who comes up to him._) Why, Uncle, you don't say it's you! How _well_ you're looking! Shake 'ands and 'ave a bit on, jest for ole sake's sake! (_The stranger proceeds to introduce himself as the_ Secretary, _and to demand a fee._) What! pay you five shillins for standin' 'ere wastin' my time and voice like this? Not me! Why, I aint took two blessed sorcepans since I bin 'ere! (_The_ Secretary _remains firm._) I won't do it, my boy. Not on _prinserple_, I won't. I wouldn't give you five shillins not if your tongue was 'anging down on to your boots--so there! (_The_ Secretary _does not attempt so violent an appeal to his better nature, but calls a police-inspector._) 'Ere, I'd sooner git down and chuck the show altogether; jest to mark my contempt for such goings on! (_He descends from his box; takes down his sign, unscrews his pole, folds up his professional triptych, and departs in a state of virtuous indignation only to be expressed by extreme profanity, while the_ Secretary _proceeds unmoved to collect payments from the others; who eventually compromise the claims for half-a-crown._)

_Mr. Sam Satchell_ (_"from Southampton"_). Now then, you gentlemen and aristocratic tradesmen, where _are_ you all? Don't any o' you know _anything?_ Come on 'ere. (_He stops an elderly rustic._) You've got a fancy, I can see! (_The rustic denies the impeachment, grinning._) Git along with yer, yer artful ole puss, then, and don't keep gentlemen away as wants to bet! (_To a Yeomanry trooper._) Come along, my ole soldier-boy, give it a name! (_His old soldier-boy declines to give it any name, and passes on._) Call yerself a warrior bold, and afraid o' riskin' 'alf-a-crown! Why, yer Queen and country orter be ashamed o' yer! (_As a young farmer in riding-gaiters come up, with the evident intention of business._) Ah, _you_ don't forget the old firm, I see.... What, four to one not good enough for you? You won't get no better odds, go where you _like!_ I suppose you expeck me to make you a present o' the money? (_The farmer moves on._) I dunno what's _come_ to 'em all. _I_ never see nothing like it in all _my_ life!

IN THE GRAND STAND.

_A Glib Person, in a tall hat_ (_as he picks his way up and down the benches, the occupants of which treat him with tolerant indifference_). I'm not a bookmaker, ladies and gentlemen; don't have that impression of me for a moment! I'm simply an amateur, and an independent gentleman o' means, like any of yourselves. You all know more than _I_ do. I don't come 'ere with any intention o' winning your money--far from it. I'm wishful to settle and live among you. I may eventually put up as your member; and, if so, when I take my place in Parliament I shall be in a position to testify that the Baymouth people are extremely cautious as to the manner in which they invest their money on 'orse-racin'! Yes, I'm 'ere on beyarf of the Sporting League, just to prove how free a meeting like this is from the evils o' gambling. I don't come 'ere to _rob_ yer. I want yer all to win. I like to see yer bright and shining faces around me; I like the friverolity and reckereation and the conviverality of the thing, that's all. I'll tell yer how it is. I've a rich ole aunt, and she puts fifty pound into my 'ands, and sez, "Jacky," she sez, "I love those dear Baymouth people, and I want you to take this 'ere money and lay it out among 'em in moieties, and make 'em rich and 'appy." You can see for yourselves. I've no tickets and no parryfernalia, excep' this little pocket-book, where I enter any bets you honour me with. Come, Miss, win a pair o' those three-and-sixpenny gloves at CHICKERELL'S, the ex-Mayor's, to oblige _me!_ Did I tread on your corn, Sir? I assure you it was the last thing I intended.... "You knew I'd do it afore I'd done?" ... Well, Sir, if you've sech a gift o' seeing into futoority as that, why not make something out of it now? Three to one bar one. _Kitty_ _I_'m barring. Thank _you_, Sir; 'alf-a-crown to seven and six on _Sportsman_. I tell you candidly--you've got the winner. The favourite won't win. Now, then, all you others, where's your Baymouth pluck? I orfered you thirty to one _Beeswing_ last race; and you wouldn't take it. And _Beeswing_ won, and you lost the chance o' making yer fortunes. Don't blame _me_ if the same thing 'appens again. I'm on'y bettin', as I told you, for my own amusement, and to get rid o' the money! (_&c., &c._)

_Mr. Sam Satchell_ (_whom the apathy of the public has apparently reduced to a state of defiant buffoonery_). Even money _Daredevil_, you rascals! And why the blazes don't ye take it? Come on. I'll take two little bits o' twos that _Kitty_ don't win! Four to one against ole bread-and-butter _Tommy_, over there in the corner! Eleven and a 'alf to three quarters to two against _Kitty_. "What har the Wild Waves say-hay-ing?" Two _Kitties_ to three _Daredevils_ against a bloomin' goat-chaise! On the Baymouth Durby I'm bettin'!

AT THE CLOSE OF THE LAST RACE.

_Three horses have started; the favourite has led to the turn and then bolted up the shingle, but, as the tide has come in and almost covered the course, and the other two horses by declining to face the water have let him in again, he wins after an exciting finish, up to the girths in sea-water; and such bookmakers as have succeeded in obtaining patronage are paying up with as much cheerfulness as they can command._

_First Bookmaker_ (_to eager backer_). Wait a bit, my boy, wait a _bit_, the number hasn't gone up yet, my son. Where's your ticket--forty-two? (_His clerk refers to book._) That's _Squibbs_. I pay over _winners_--not losers. (_To the public._) Come along and fetch your money, the bullion's 'ere! (_To another backer._) What was yours--threes? ("Fours _I_'ve got," _from his clerk_.) Why don't yer arst for what you're entitled to, instead o' makin' me arst my clurk what your bet was? There's your money--take it and go!

[_The backer departs wealthier but abashed._

_Second B._ I'm payin' over that 'ard-run race, gentlemen, men and 'orses exhorsted! I'm payin' over _Susan_--dear ole Suseyhanner! who wants their money? The Bank o' England's 'ere, gentlemen, Mr. FRANKIE FAIRPRICE and his ole friend, who's always by his side and never looses 'im!

_Third B._ (_who has had to borrow largely from his brethren to meet his engagements_). Are you all done now? (_To the crowd._) Then I'll wish yer good afternoon, thank ye all for yer comp'ny, but you've bin bloomin' bad fun to-day, and you don't ketch me playin' Patience on a monument at any more o' yer blanky sand'oppin' 'andicaps, that's all!

[_However, the local newspaper reports next day that "A number of the sporting fraternity were in attendance to do business, and apparently carried on a brisk and profitable trade"--which only shows how difficult it is for the casual observer to form an accurate opinion._

* * * * *

OPERATIC NOTES.

_Monday._--Crowded house: all charmed with everything and everybody in _Fra Diavolo_. Somebody in grand tier so ecstatically pleased, that, unable any longer to control impulsive movement, he (or she) hurls into the air leather lorgnette case, which, descending at an angle, clears the Prince of WALES'S elbow by a few inches, and startles musical enthusiast who, seated at corner of third row of stalls, is at that moment wrapped up in the opera, and thus protected against most external dangers. A thrill went through the house! is it a "B-o-m-b" bomb? BEVIGNANI, pausing, _bâton_ in air, gives the horrorstruck singers and concealed orchestra (to whom pause is inexplicable) a few notes rest. Then corner (stall) man picks up lorgnette case, fortunately empty; whereupon the Bold BEVIGNANI'S _bâton_ is once more in motion, and everyone is "as they were." ARIMONDI and PINI-CORSI earn a big encore for duet and dance. Mr. DAVID BISPHAM with Madame AMADI, as _Milor'_ and _Miladi_, speaking English and queer Italian, do good service. _Fra Diavolo-Lucia_ excellent, and Miss MARIE ENGLE (who naturally quite understood _Milor'_ and _Miladi_ when speaking Engelish) a charming, sprightly _Zerlina_. Revival decided hit.