Part 1

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI

Volume 109, 14th September, 1895

_edited by Sir Francis Burnand_

SCRAPS FROM CHAPS.

"A-hoy!"--A chance for any person desirous of escaping from the [Greek: hoi polloi], and making his home upon an island "all to himself." Hoy, one of the celebrated Orkney group of islands, is for sale. This is a healthy spot, in fact it may now be said to be most saleubrious. Information gleaned from the _Liverpool Courier_ shows that "the island comprises 40,000 acres, rises abruptly"--like the angry hero of a novelette--"from the sea, consists of a mountain having different eminences or peaks"--this piques one's curiosity--"is very steep, and has a noble and picturesque effect from all points of view." We trust it may also have a beautifying and ennobling effect upon the purchaser. Besides all these advantages, it possesses a large pillar of rock, 300 feet high, known as "The Old Man of Hoy." The legend attached to this promontory is as follows:--

There was an old party of Hoy, Who in life couldn't find any joy, So he sold all his stock, Got transformed into rock, Did this marvellous "broth of a bhoy."

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Best congratulations to the First Lord of the Treasury on his happy idea of promoting a scheme for the presentation of a testimonial to old TOM MORRIS, doyen of golf professionals, and keeper of the Green of the Royal and Ancient Club, at St. Andrews. An undeviating devotion of sixty years to the interests of the Scotch sport has won for Tom the thankful admiration of all lovers of the game, and it is sincerely to be hoped that Mr. BALFOUR'S appeal will result in a bunker--we mean a bumper--testimonial to the Grand Old Golfic Gladiator. For the edification of a future generation of golf devotees there should also be constructed a statuette of the veteran,

To stand in the Club smoking-room Plain for all folk to see; TOM MORRIS just about to "putt" A ball across the Dee; And underneath be written, In letters all of gold, How gloriously he kept the green In the brave days of old.

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FOOD FOR REFLECTION.--Readers of the _Daily Telegraph_ have become vegetarians. They are subsisting on a diet of lov(e)age.

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THE INTERESTING CASE OF MR. BRIEFLESS.

I have been requested by a large number of the profession to which I have the honour to belong, to bring a matter of some personal importance before the public in an appropriate manner. It seems to me that I cannot carry out this instruction more judiciously than by communicating with the Editor of a paper representing by universal consent the Bench, the Bar, and the Populace. I am assisted in this task--one of considerable delicacy--by a document that came into my hands at a time when the scheme, now full grown, was in its infancy. It is a note from "Mr. Senior," who presided at my mess in Hall some weeks before the commencement of the present Long Vacation. It speaks for itself:--

"MY DEAR BRIEFLESS,--In reply to your letter, 'No, I certainly was not joking.' It is true that we four had got to the third bottle of our after-dinner port; but in that admission I see no reason for assuming that our intellectual faculties had failed us. No; I shall be only too pleased if the proposed Testimonial should become an accomplished fact. To put it tersely, if Athletics are to be rewarded, why should Learning wait? Yours sincerely, ----."

I purposely omit the signature--an influential one--as I have no desire to bring undue pressure to bear in a cause so purely personal to myself. I need scarcely say that a Testimonial, even when it takes the shape preferred by _Mr. Micawber_, is highly gratifying. But when the matter was first broached, I had serious doubts whether I would maintain the dignity of the Bar if I became a party to the proceedings that would bring it to a successful issue. This being so, I have little hesitation in laying before you this case and opinion. The first--at request--was prepared by myself; the latter was appended by a Counsel whose name, if revealed, would carry great weight, not only with lawyers but the community at large.

CASE.

It is proposed to give Mr. A. BRIEFLESS, Jun., a Testimonial, which it is intended shall take the shape of a bag of money, in consideration of his services to the Bar. It is in contemplation that this money shall be collected from the human race in general, and the British public in particular. It may be suggested--not that the contention has as yet arisen--that there is something derogatory in a Barrister-at-Law receiving pecuniary assistance from persons other than those of his kith and kin. Mr. A. BRIEFLESS, Jun., although enjoying a very considerable practice as things go--he has held no less than three consent briefs during the last five years--is not very wealthy, and it must be admitted that a grant would not be an unwelcome incident in his career. For all that he would shrink from doing anything that might be considered derogatory to his title of "esquire"--a distinction that he not only holds as his father's heir, but by the usage of his office.

You are requested therefore kindly to say--

1. Can Mr. A. BRIEFLESS, Jun., receive a Testimonial of a bag of money without laying himself open to the charge of being an accessory before and after the fact of an act of maintenance?

2. Assuming that there is nothing in the first suggestion, will Mr. A. BRIEFLESS, Jun., in accepting the sum of money it is proposed to hand to him, be guilty of an act of contributory negligence, bringing about a loss of dignity to the Bar?

3. Should there be nothing in the latter suggestion, is it desirable that, instead of a bag of money, the Testimonial should take the shape of a golden snuff-box, a service of plate, or some equally costly article? It is strongly urged that, if practicable, this course should not be advised, as such articles are invariably embarrassing.

And to consult and advise generally.

OPINION.

I do not think that the reception of a bag of money by Mr. A. BRIEFLESS, Jun., would amount to maintenance. But it would be advisable that the learned gentleman should undertake not to use any of the sum in defraying costs.

As the ancient manner of paying counsel was to drop an honorarium into the bags worn at the back of their robes, I can see nothing derogatory to the profession in Mr. A. BRIEFLESS, Jun., accepting the proposed Testimonial.

I do not see that a distinction can be drawn between coins of the realm and their equivalent. Both are equally acceptable. If Mr. A. BRIEFLESS. Jun., prefers cash to snuff-boxes, there is no reason why he should not receive the former in preference to the latter.

I would advise that the Testimonial be collected at once, and presented as quickly as possible.

(_Signed_) ----.

I have nothing further to say beyond hinting that the project has already been taken up with a fair amount of enthusiasm. Many firms of manufacturers have expressed a desire to send subscriptions (which they wish to see published in the daily papers) on the score "that they have been happy enough never to have had cause to avail themselves of my valuable professional services."

And now I must apologise for so lengthy a contribution. I have nothing to add, save that should a Testimonial be organised, I shall be glad were the subscriptions fixed at £1 3_s._ 6_d._ Out of that sum I should, of course, deduct half-a-crown as an appropriate recognition of the services of my admirable and excellent clerk, Mr. PORTINGTON.

(_Signed_) A. BRIEFLESS, JUN.

_Pump-handle Court, September 9, 1895._

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HAPPY HARROGATE.

(_A Traveller's Thank-Offering._)

Faith! I feared I was bound for that general bourne, which we all must approach through one narrow gate, But, oh! once again I have felt heart and brain hurried up by the waters of Harrogate. (Here's jolly good luck to them!) Doctor BLACK of that place of my bothersome case did _not_ make a muddle or mull, for, I owe strength of limb, heart and stomach, to him, and those terrible doses of sulphur! (And stoutly I _stuck_ to them.) And true gratitude rules at present my mood (though gratitude's rather a rarity), And that's why I'd say just a good word to-day for an excellent Harrogate charity, (A regular A-Wonner!) That fine Yorkshire Home for Incurables! Come, ye who've got from the sulphur springs benefit, And put in your "mite" in the slot, which will quite hold a pound, yet a shilling or penny fit. (You just ask the "Stunner!") The Duchess of DEVONSHIRE opened the _fête_ and bazaar, driving over from Bolton, The Abbey, you know, a most picturesque show, which the tourist has got a firm "holt" on, (I use the vernacular!) Her Grace by her kirtle had good Dr. MYRTLE, who unto the Tykes introduced her, And when that she pleaded for funds sorely needed I hoped there were few who refused her. (That's neat and oracular!) The good _Yorkshire Post_ says the Home may well boast of much honoured names as subscribers, And Alderman FORTUNE (appropriate name!) and SAVERY (two blameless bribers Of folks to do duty) Spake up for the Home. Shall poor invalids roam, in pain, and alone and untended, When at brave Harrogate it may be their kind fate to be doctored, and fed, and befriended? (By Wisdom _and_ Beauty!) Doctors MYRTLE and SOLLY, it makes me feel jolly--by sulphur wells made sulphur weller-- To say a good word! Mr. JOSHUA WHITWORTH--Hon. Sec.--is "a jolly good feller" (And so's Miss M. SMITH). The Leeds Engineers' Band was all there, gay and grand, and Sir --what was it?--ha!--MATTHEW DODSWORTH, Not lengthily clatters about such Home matters, he knows what a wink or a nod's worth (In point there is pith). Oh, MYRTLE! Oh, BLACK! Should I ever come back to that doctor-ruled, sulphur-drenched region, May potions and baths, and those brisk plateau-paths cure my pains as before, though they're legion (And spare me that narrow gate). But--here's to that Home for Incurables! Rome was not built in a day, so they tell us, But Charity always beginneth at home, and I'd say, if Bath will not be jealous-- That Home is--at Harrogate!

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Q. E. D.

[Mr. CHAMBERLAIN said that Sir E. ASHMEAD-BARTLETT "appeared to be intellectually incapable of distinguishing between charges and proof."]

What, only just found out _that_ fact? As soon expect sense from Dame _Partlet_ As reason, in speech or in act, From rash, indiscriminate BARTLETT. In foreign affairs he's a ferret, But sense from his "charge" holds aloof; For all know that SILOMIO'S spirit, Is many degrees above "proof"!

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We hear that the salmon-fishing season on the Dee has been a satisfactory one. Some especially good sport was obtained in a pool "near Overton Bridge where the fish collected, when unable, owing to the lowness of the water, to get over the weir." Notwithstanding an equal inability of Members "to get over the Weir," there was not much sport during the recent Session "near Westminster Bridge."

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TORR-RESTIAL NOTES.

_Happy Thought._--Ilfracombe, just now. If it be a question of "Ways and Means," then Ilfracombe offers you "the ways" in the matter of drives, walks, rides, excursions by rail, by sea, likewise by river and road almost _ad infinitum_, and sometimes by sea _ad nauseam_. Sea-bathing naturally excellent, but still open, considerably open, to improvement. Still, as the man of no politics replied, when asked why he belonged to the Reform Club, "There is in this world nothing so good but what it is capable of improvement," and Ilfracombe cannot claim exemption from this rule of universal application. Should an Ilfracombe-ination require suggestions, mine are at the service of the I. I. C. (Ilfracombe Improvement Committee).

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On a bench at the summit of the Torrs sat three Elders. Gray-bearded and full of confidence in their own wisdom. On another bench facing them sat a cherry-cheeked maiden of some nineteen summers, evidently an elder sister in charge of a little brother, with whom in a shy sort of way, as if old enough to know better, and yet unable to resist the temptation, she was sharing, with very evident relish, some succulent toffy recently extracted from one of the many "penny-in-the-slot" machines, which, as "bits of colour," are such brilliant ornaments to the Torrs Walks, and such universal favourites with youth of all ages. The three Elders were discoursing on the mysteries of creation, with such a "cock-sureness" of tone as seemed to imply that they themselves had been on some committee of management when the first idea of making this particular planet, called the world, had occurred to its Creator. "These rocks," said one grandly, "were in existence long before the date assigned to the creation." Whereat the toffy-sucking girl sniggered foolishly as if somehow personally implicated, while the boy stared, open mouthed, with toffy, yet untasted, in his dexter hand. "No one," observed the second Elder, blandly, his eyes on the maiden,--not by any means a SUSANNA but rather a fairly educated AWDREY,--"no one now accepts the Mosaic account of Creation as given in Genesis." The boy looked up, inquiringly, at his sister. The girl giggled bashfully as if, in presence of so much learning and such reverend seniors, she were suddenly somewhat ashamed of the home-teaching she had received, and in which her trust had never been shaken, at least until this minute. The third Elder, his eye too on the girl and boy,--and perhaps the toffy,--now joined in. "It was absurd," quoth he, supremely, "to believe that this"--here with a wave of his hand he took in air, earth, sky, and all points of the compass--"was made in six days." Then both boy and girl sniggered at one another. "I suppose they teach you that all this," said the third Elder, straightly addressing the girl, and again explaining his allusion to the universe by waving his right hand about in an all-embracing gesture, "that this was made in six days, eh?" With a demure and silly giggle the damsel admitted that her education on the subject had tended in the direction indicated. The three Elders regarded one another with a sad, despondent air, as though here were another case of crass ignorance which they had a special mission to enlighten. "Why," said the second Elder, "the Chinese"--here the little boy became suddenly interested--"the Chinese possess records which reach back to a date anterior, by some thousands of years, to that popularly assigned by Christians to the creation of the world." The girl opened her eyes, but the boy, having lost his suddenly awakened interest in the Chinese (probably he had expected some stories about the war with Japan, or another tale of _Aladdin_), had resumed his toffy-sucking process. At this point my companion, who had been fidgetting on our bench, suddenly cut in and took a hand. "You remind me, Sir," said he, quite pleasantly, speaking to the second Elder, but addressing all three, "of the ancient and royal Irish family of O'Toole, whose records, as you will of course remember, went back for some millions of years; and in which, at a comparatively late date, occurred the famous entry, 'N.B.--About this time the world was created.'" As this was told with perfect good humour, and with an inimitably comic imitation of a brogue, the damsel and boy were greatly amused, and the Three Wise Men looked as black as the trio of Anabaptists in _Le Prophète_ when there is a danger of the truth being told by _Fides_, as to _Jean of Leyden_ being no heaven-descended prophet but only her commonplace peasant-born son. So girl and boy departed, laughing, to gather more sweets, and perhaps to recount at home the Irish story, which, thank heaven, is more likely to dwell in their memory than is the second-hand philosophy "falsely so-called" of the Three Wise Men of the Mountain.

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Kodakers everywhere. Bathing, walking, resting, admiring the scenery, no matter what you are doing, out pops Mr., Mrs., with the Misses and Masters KODAKER, and you are taken in the act. The snap-shooting season is at its height.

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Startling to see staring advertisement over a shop in the Arcade, "_Dark Room for Amateurs_." Sounds like a punishment. Bad amateur actor, or entertainer, sentenced to dark room would, probably, deserve it.

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The visitor to the delightful Torrs can have one penn'orth or two penn'orth of Torrs. Twopence is the top price. Well worth it, as a treat, now and then. Ordinarily penn'orth of Torrs will suffice. There should be shelters on the Torrs. Immediate attention of I. I. C. requested.

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The hedges in the lanes are redolent of honey-suckle; and the Torrs Walks are sweet with honey-mooners.

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Beware of taking too much of the cream of Devon. "Is it possible to take too much?" asks my friend and companion, to whom half a pound of it at breakfast, another half-pound at lunch, and a third at dinner, are but as a dozen natives, at a single sitting, to a champion devourer of bivalves. I cannot resolve my friend's question. But, after emulating, as far as my limited powers would permit me, his excellent example, I had the following curious dream. For particulars, see next paragraph.

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