Part 2

The Baron welcomes a comparatively "handy" volume ("handy" relative term, depending on size of hand) of reference, entitled, _Men and Women of the Time_, new edition, brought out by Messrs. GEORGE ROUTLEDGE, edited by Mr. PLARR of Oxford; and the _plat_ that is set before the public and the Baron appears to be a thoroughly satisfying one. "The first name for which I naturally looked," quoth the Baron, "was that of ROUTLEDGE himself, but searching from ROSSI, through Roumania, to ROWBOTHAM, nowhere did I light upon the name of ROUTLEDGE. Master MILLAIS is here, also MILLER, likewise MILLS; but I do not see the name of the author of the _'Arry Papers_, the inventor of 'ARRY in these columns, of immortal fame. "Name him!" In every other respect the compilers and publishers are to be congratulated, and do hereby stand congratulated, on their work by the ever-appreciative

BARON DE B.-W.

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THE TWO GRACES.

["There was something pathetic in seeing old W. G. and young W. G. at the wicket together. It is not often we see father and son together at the wicket in first-class cricket."--The _Star_ on the M. C. C. _v._ Kent match at Lords.]

AIR--"_The Two Obadiahs._"

Says the old W. G. to the young W. G., "Pat your wicket, dear son WILLIAM, pat your wicket! In the pitch there are bad patches, that may lead to bowls or catches; And you're now in first-class cricket, first-class cricket. I've already topped my fame; _you_ have got to make your name. I should like to see us both make a 'century' this time!" Says the young W. G. to the old W. G., "'Twould be prime, Father WILLIAM, _'twould_ be prime!"

Says the young W. G. to the old W. G., "How I wish that I could time and place like you! I should like to hear them clap me, but my gig-lamps handicap me; Still I'll do my little best to pile a few." Says the old W. G., "Run for all you're worth, like me! You must always 'play the game.' You must ever 'look alive.'" Groans the young W. G. to the old W. G., "Caught--for Five! Father WILLIAM, only Five!"

Says the old W. G. to the young W. G., "Bother HEARNE, dear son WILLIAM, JONES and HEARNE! But don't _you_ get in a pucker! Caught and bowled for Fives's a mucker, But be patient, and you're sure to get your turn. _I_ am going to have a shy for another Cen-tu-ry. You must help me by-and-by to keep up the family name!" Says the young W. G. to the old W. G., "Right you are, dad! Wish you luck, and a good game!"

* * * * *

"THREE WHICH'S?"--Will SARA B., ELEANORA DUSE, and Miss ADA REHAN be playing individually and separately at different theatres all at the same time? Were this concatenation to occur, the playgoer, at the height of the season, would be as puzzled as was the "anxious cit," who "each invitation views, And ponders which to take and which refuse." The "stayer" will win. Fly away, SARA, fly away, NORA--and so from three take two, and only ADA REHAN remains, which is a simple sum in subtraction, though Miss REHAN herself is always a most welcome Ada-ition to the English-as-she-is-spoken Drama in London. The Augustinians of Trafalgar Square return to their Daly avocations on the 25th.

* * * * *

* * * * *

THE GRACEFUL TRIBUTE.

SIR,--Being "stumped," alas I can only send Dr. GRACE my best wishes, and a round 0, which is good for naught.

Yours, RUN OUT.

SIR,--To encourage "Our Boys" in the National Game, I am heartily glad to see the daily (_Telegraph_) increasing list of subscribers to _the_ testimonial. Had poor H. J. BYRON been alive--the mention of "Our Boys" of course recalls him to our minds--he would no doubt have sent a coin, and further subscribed himself

PERKYN MIDDLEWICK-ET.

SIR,--The present enthusiasm for cricket and its distinguished Professor will spread to France. There _le cricquet_ has already been introduced, and, when no misadventure occurs, the batsman, returning triumphant and grateful, records his "_actions de Grace_."

Yours, HOMME D'UNE CHAUVE-SOURIS.

P.S.--_Je fais le cricquet, autrement je m'enGRAISSE._ (See?)

SIR,--I miss one important name from the _Telegraph_ list of subscriptions to Grace Testimonial. What is GRACE the Batsman without T. G. BOWLES?

Yours, BATTER PUDDING, M.P.

SIR,--Here's something original. Lay out some of the coin subscribed in purchasing for Dr. W. G., the champion "Willow-wielder," a set of "Willow-pattern plates."

OLD CHINA.

P.S.--I happen to have by me a rare, almost invaluable set, which I can dispose of at a certain figure.

SIR,--Dr. GRACE is now getting on for fifty. In another four years he will complete his half century. _Therefore_ he is no chicken. _Ergo_, he may one day have a duck's egg. I withhold my subscription, to accumulate with interest, till _that_ occurs.

AN ARDENT ADMIRER.

SIR,--Ah me! and well-a-day! it is the grand sorrow of my life! I cannot subscribe to this fund for Dr. GRACE. I dare not, except you allow me to send it confidentially through you, Sir, ever the Ladies' friend. Ah Sir! long ago my heart "went out"--to whom? no matter. It was a cricketer. I never told my love! I long-stopped! But never, never, shall I forget that memorable day when _he_ was there, and when someone, Dr. G. will remember who it was, _bowled a maiden over!_ I am not a heroine, but I may sign this (as I address it fervently to)

"GRACE DARLING!" _The Lighthouse, A Little off--the Coast._

SIR,--I belong to an "Impi" tribe--with "cunious" added. Otherwise would I contribute what I did to the first cricket-match I ever played, when, as the ball was thrown at me, to save my head _I gave a bob_. I cannot even do that now. But as a lover of the game I hope that there are many youthful Britons eager to follow "_Exemplum Gratiæ_."

Yours, STUMP ORATOR.

DEAR SIR,--I think you are quite right to encourage cricket, as it is a noble game. The Duke of WELLINGTON ones said that Trafalgar was won on the Eton Playing-fields. I don't think he was quite right there, as I have always been told that the battle was fought abroad. I am last in my class, but I'm in the second Eleven. I'm often "not out," and to-day I've had to "stay in" all the time during the match, because I had a saying-lesson to write out and translate. The other day I made 27, including three fourers, against the United Thingummies.

I remain, yours enthusiastically, TOMMY. _The Only College._

P.S.--I will send my shilling as soon as I can get it from BATLEY _mi._ He owes it me for birds' eggs.

SIR,--I am only too happy to contribute my mite, for though it's some while--alas! how time flies--since I handled the willow, I well remember playing in the early forties against ALFRED PITCHER and JOHN TOSSER. Ah, they were heroes in those days. I myself was no mean performer. I tell you, Sir, many's the time I have made double figures against the underhand bowling of JIMMY TRUNDLER, and he _could_ bowl, too! before the round-arm style came in. I never took kindly to that, but these fifty years I have been an ardent looker-on, and I must tell you, &c. &c.[*]

JNO. WARDLE. (_Late Member of All-Muggleton C. C._)

[Footnote *: "No you mustn't." Caught out by Editor.]

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* * * * *

PROVERBS BY AN ILLUSTRIOUS FOREIGNER ON TOUR.

The time of special trains was made for slaves, not Asiatic Princes.

You may take an Eastern Magnate to a manufactory, but you can only with difficulty get him to lunch with the local Mayor.

There is many a slip between the Prince and the lift.

A view of machinery in motion in hand is worth two invitations to receptions in prospective.

Cocked-hats of a feather flock together.

You cannot make pleasure out of the address of a corporation.

All roads lead to turtle soup.

It is an ill wind that causes a swell on the Ship Canal.

People who live in mosques ought not to throw sticks at the Derby.

A programme kept to time is not worth nine.

The early mayor has to wait longest.

Give a Highness a wrong title and report him.

Enough at a factory is better than a feast in a Town Hall.

It is a long explanation that has no turning.

A jerk is as good as a nod to a bowing multitude.

When a person of the first importance enters by the door all settled arrangements disappear through the window.

The Representative of an Illustrious Race laughs at Traffic Managers.

The English Public enjoys a sensation, but the Indian Empire pays for it.

When the Prince is away, to fill up the time the band will play.

The son proposes but the father disposes.

The autocrat through the telegraph waits for no one.

Welcome the coming quiet and speed the exhausted guest.

* * * * *

An Opportunity not to be Missed.

_Tired Reviewer_ (_to Anxious Author_). Ah! old fellow! I'm fagged out! Come and dine with me to-night? Sorry to give you such short notice.

_Anxious Author._ "Short notice!" Oh, please, never do _that_.

[_Exeunt together_.

* * * * *

"A SALE! A SALE!"

The Price Sale of pictures on Saturday last at Christie's will be ever memorable as "The Highest Price Sale." "'What's the demd total?' was the first question _Mr. Mantilini_ asked." To which the present answer is £87,144. A nice little sum to go on with, or off with. One of the incidents was most dramatic. GAINSBOROUGH'S "_Lady Musgrave_" was put up to be purchased. Then stood forward bold WILLIAM AGNEW with eight thousand guineas in his best gossamer. "The lady is mine!" he exclaimed, rapturously, and was advancing with arms outstretched to seize his prize, when suddenly his path was crossed by one CAMPBELL "of that ilk," who cried aloud, "Here are ten thousand golden sovereigns _plus_ ten thousand silver shillings, all glittering on a tray! Advance no further!" And bold WILLIAM advanced no further. For once he was taken aback. "I didna ken the CAMPBELL was coming!" muttered WILLIAM A-bashed. And ere he could recover from his surprise, and while yet his frame was quivering with excitement, his picture, the Lady that should have been his, was gone. "They have given her to another!" he sang sadly, but the next moment he pulled himself together, and "taking heart of Grace" WILLIAM made such running, off his own bat, as would have astonished even the eminent cricketer just mentioned. And the last of the "Reynolds' Miscellany" in this collection succumbed to WILLIAM the Conqueror for 450 guineas. _Sic transit gloria Saturday!_

* * * * * NEW NAME.--The Imperial Institute henceforward to be known as "The Somers Vinery."

* * * * *

A FINE SUMMER DAY'S OUTING.

Highly recommended by "The Faculty" (who has tried it more than once). Given a perfectly calm sea, a delicious light breeze, and anything else "given" that you can get, including pleasant company, then, with tears in your patriotic eyes, and a tremolo in your voice, bid farewell (for a couple of hours or so) to old England, cross the Channel, invade France _viâ_ Calais, where, however calm the sea has been, you must be prepared for a "buffet"; but this "buffet" is not at all rough, just the contrary, and if by chance you should have at all suffered from any unevenness in the wave line, you are sure, on arriving at Calais, of a "restauration" which will send you back in another hour and a half quite the giant refreshed. That same evening you can pose as a real traveller just returned from "the Continent," which will serve you excellently both as reason and apology for not having answered any letters, and neglected epistolary business generally during the last month. "Been away, my boy!" "Ah, that's why you didn't answer my letter. Where have you been?" "Oh! France, about Normandy. Delightful. Ta! Ta!" And perhaps the expenditure of the day's trip will have saved you from all sorts of trouble, pecuniary and otherwise, that you might have got into had you remained at home, answering letters. _But_, as to the benefit of the sea air--there can't be two opinions about _that_.

* * * * *

A DISTINGUISHED COMMONER WHO CANNOT VOTE FOR DOING AWAY WITH "LORD'S."--DR. GRACE. Public school elevens and M. C. C. all against such a proposition.

* * * * *

BOLD J. H. TAYLOR.

[J. H. TAYLOR, an Englishman born and bred, has for the second time won the Open Championship (Golf) at the St. Andrews' Links.]

Oh! young J. H. TAYLOR is a fine young fellow, At whom the Scotsmen may hardly scoff; For though he's Saxon by birth and breeding, He is champion now at the Game of Golf!

On St. Andrews' Links when the rain was pouring, He smote the ball with a manly blow; And he distanced St. Andrews' ANDREW--KIRKALDY-- Though TAYLOR was trained in far Westward Ho!

And he went the four rounds fair and featly, In strokes three hundred, and twenty, and two, Which SANDY HERD, and ANDY KIRKALDY, And DAVIE ANDERSON, they _could_ not do.

It may seem sheer cheek for "a gowk of a Saxon" To take the cake at the Gaelic Game; But as imitation's the sincerest flattery, Let 'em take a licking in the light o' the same.

So here's a health to bold J. H. TAYLOR, Lord of the Links, at the tee a toff; Who takes first place for the slighted Southron At the Ancient and Royal Game of Golf!

* * * * *

* * * * *

"HOUSE OF REST FOR ACTORS."

Beneath the spreading BEERBOHM TREE The Resting Actor stands, And grateful takes the _£ s. d._ From Active Actors' hands. No more he'll strut upon the stage Where he has done his best, Nothing he'll need, while active men Are doing _all the rest_.

* * * * *

Classical and Cockney.

_Hal._ It was a Greek play at Bradford College.

_'Arry_ (_to Tom_). I told you it was a Greek fake.

_Tom_ (_to 'Arry_). How do _you_ know?

_'Arry_ (_giving Hal as his authority_). 'Cos it's' _Al-sez-'tis_.

* * * * *

The New Women.

They dress.... like men. They talk..... like men. They live..... like men. They don't.... like men.

* * * * *

INTELLIGENCE FROM (AND AT) HAMBURG.--"Mr. G." was unable to go to the Zoo at feeding-time. He was conspicuous by his absence, as all the other lions were there.

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NEW AND APPROPRIATE NAME FOR THE AFTER-DINNER CRUMB-AND-FRAGMENT BASKET.--"The Morsel-eum."

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'ARRY ON THE SEASON.

Dear CHARLIE,--The pypers all tell us the Season is now at its 'ight; Don't mean one o' THOMSON'S, my pippin. _That_ josser is now out of dyte. When I was a bit of a kiddie, dad 'ad a old brown-covered book Into wich now and then, on a Sunday, 'e thought it the right thing to look.

_Such_ sloppy saloop, my dear CHARLIE, "embellished" with rummy old cuts, Drawn stiff and old-fashioned, by STOTHARD. On one on 'em though, I was nuts, Musi---- somethink or other I fancy. But as to the cackle, Great Scott!-- "The sun rolling bounteous from Aries," and reams o' such molly slop rot.

Now if JEMMY 'ad sung of _our_ Season, not Nature's old merry-go-round, But London's pertikler, for swells, it 'ud suit me right down to the ground. But as JEMMY has shirked it for tosh on "ethereal mildness," and such, Wy 'ARRY must 'ave a cut in, and all London is fly to _his_ touch.

Wot a Summer we're 'aving this Season! All Nature seems trim and in tune; Ripe strorberries picked out o' doors, though we've 'ardly yet dropped into June; The parks jest like bloomin' peraries, the water supply going queer, And a general 'urrying up for stror 'ats, lemon squoshes, and beer.

It seems only yesterday, CHARLIE, the standpipes wos up in our street, And "Are _you_ froze off?" wos _the_ question of every poor pal you might meet. And now there's a new "water famine" along o' the 'eat, not the cold, And ginger-pop's sellin' as fast as it can be unbottled and sold.

Queen's droring-rooms, troopin' the colours, and trotting young NASRULLA round, Is sights your true patriot's nuts on, and I've done _my_ bit, you be bound. I chi-iked to young Ingy-rubber, and give him the haffable nod; And if H. R. H. didn't twig me, and drop me a smile, well, it's odd.

Hart's 'aving its innings, as usual, and so is old W. G., Only more so. My eye and a band-box, a rare bit o' stuff _he_ must be! As nigh forty-seven as don't matter, as big as a barrel, and yet A-piling 'is centries like pea-shellin'! Sound Double Gloster, you bet!

I sor him at Lord's, mate, last Thursday, five 'ours and a arf in the sun, A smiting and running as if, at 'is age, with 'is weight, it was fun! _'Ot_, CHARLIE? My collar flopped limp, and I lapped lemon-squoshes--a number; And there wos 'e tottling 'is Thousand, as cool as a bloomin' cowcumber.

I wouldn't ha' done it for tuppence; no, not with the cheerings chucked in, Although the Pervilion fair rose at 'im. 'Ow gents of clarss, and with tin, And no _need_ to it, CHARLIE, choose Cricket, at ninety degrees in the shyde, When they could lay hidle, fair licks me. But, there, hevery one to 'is tryde!

A dust-coat, a white 'at, a field-glass, a landau and lashings o' fizz, At Hascot would suit _me_ fur better. The old sport o' kings _is_ good biz, With shekels, and luck, like Lord ROSEBERY! Scissors! I _do_ 'ate a Rad. But a sportsman, as pulls off two Derbies, wy 'ang it, 'e _carn't_ be no Cad.

If Primrose would only turn Primroser, wot a fair topper he'd be! Wot _can_ be 'is little gyme, CHARLIE, to foller old W. G.? (I don't mean the cricketer this time.) That Liberal lot ain't no clarss, With a lot o' tag-rag they carn't hold, and a lot o' bad Bills they carn't parss.

The blot on this Season is Parlyment. Wy don't they 'urry it up, And scoot to country, the cripples? St. Paul's to my tarrier pup, They'd git a 'ot 'iding this journey. Let ROSEBERY cut the thing short, Chuck 'ARCOURT and pal on with Gentleman JOE, _like_ a gent, and a Sport!

Then 'ARRY will talk to 'im, CHARLIE! Ah, well, I ain't got no more room, Though I ain't done the Season arf justice. The last pale laburnum's in bloom, But it ain't bin washed brimstone with rain-bursts. Our SARAH is hover from Parry, Sir ORGUSTUS is fair on the toot, so 'Ooray for the Season! Yours, 'ARRY.

* * * * *

NEW BOOK AND QUERY.--"_Women's Tragedies._ By H. D. LOWRY." Is the tragic history of _That Lass of Lowrie's_ included? "But that is another story."

* * * * *

NOW WE'RE FURNISHED!

This is how the Guardians of the Midleton Union (County Cork) transact business:--

"_Mr. Morrison_ (_to the Chairman_). You promised to write to the Local Government Board, and do it now. (_Noise and interruptions._)

"_Mr. Murphy_ (_warmly_). I say the whole thing is all humbug, and based upon humbug.

"(_At this stage there was great noise and confusion, several gentlemen speaking at the same time._)

"_Chairman_ (_very warmly, and hitting the table_). I say I am not a humbug, and I was never a humbug, and I hope I'll never have to be displaced from any public position because I was a humbug or a proved humbug."

Why did not the table turn upon the chair, and hit it back? This would have been a real case of table-turning. To parody EDWARD LEAR'S delightful _Nonsense Songs_,

Said the Table to the Chair, "You can hardly be aware How it feels when you come down With your fist upon my crown."

* * * * *

"MENUS PLAISIRS."--One of the best _menus_ of the season provided by the Lyceum House of Entertainment included, or rather did include, during last week past, such choice dishes, so much to the taste of everyone, as _The Ris d'Ellen Terry à la Nance Oldfield_ and _Tête de Mathias à la Henri premier_. Appropriately, of course, did the orchestra, which plays before each performance, give the old familiar airs of "_I would I were with Nancy!_" and "_The Bells are ringing for_"--_Mathias_--not for "_Sara_."

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* * * * *

A MISSED CHANCE.

[Mr. ANTHONY HOPE'S "reply on behalf of the ladies was witty and felicitous, and only disappointed" those who had hoped that at least one "new woman" would have justified the claim of her sex to equality with the male by replying. "The only sign of novelty we detected about the ladies present was that a few condescended to puff cigarettes, to the evident scandal of some less advanced ladies."--_The "Literary World" upon the late meeting of the "New Vagabond Club._"]

Of novelties--and novel ties--in chase, Advances the New Woman, destined winner Of true first-fiddledom and pride of place! Already she's "advanced" to a club dinner At the New Vagabonds! How Eleusinian It sounds, how almost desperately daring! Clubdom was once Man's absolute dominion, Which now New Womanhood with him seems sharing. "_She made no speeches_," though;--though FRANKFORT MOORE Cracked jokes, and HOPE told tales! With mild regret One hears that, 'midst the after-dinner "roar" Her share was--proxies and a cigarette! _Can_ it be her revolt against Man's yoke Shall end, as here, in silence and in smoke!

* * * * *

DAMP ITALIAN DRAMA.--The Evening _Dews, eh?_

* * * * *

NAVAL ARCHITECTURE.

[A paper on "The Amplitude of Rolling on a Non-synchronous Wave" was read before the Congress of Naval Architects in Paris.]

Last week, the papers tell us, the talented and zealous Designers who construct our ships their best attention gave To M. BERTIN'S writing on what sounds to us exciting-- The amplitude of rolling when non-synchronous the wave.

How often, crossing over those distressing Straits of Dover, Where flighty folks grow flabby and where giddy ones grow grave, We have meditated sadly that we don't encounter gladly The amplitude of rolling when non-synchronous the wave.