Part 2

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MR. GLADSTONE ON THE FIFTH OF NOVEMBER.

SIR,--You are wrong in supposing that the term, "Old Fireworks," was originally applied to myself. I am of opinion, though I speak under a certain amount of correction, not such, however, as my young friend, GRANDOLPH, would like to supply, that the term Old Fireworks was first applied to the celebrated _Mr. Pickwick_, though upon what occasion and by whom I cannot at this moment call to mind. To your second question, as to whether I approve of the conduct of _Mr. Samuel Weller_ in resisting the Head Constable _Grummer_, I should say that, considering the provocation offered, _Mr. Weller_ seems to have acted with remarkable self-restraint.

Yours faithfully, G. O. M.

P.S. Chips, real good chips, warranted quite dry, and only waiting for a match to set them in a blaze, may now be had at Hawarden Lodge at the ridiculously small charge of three-pence a piece, or two shillings and five-pence halfpenny per dozen. Immediate application personally or by letter is recommended. Also a copy of Nottingham speech and the Mitchelstown telegram, which, should any difficulty be experienced in kindling a bonfire, will at once set the heap into a splendid blaze. My song and chorus--

Remember, remember, The Mitchelstown ember,

and so forth, ought to be ready at all respectable music-publishers by November 3rd. 2s. 6d. per copy. Great reduction for clubs, schools, &c. Chips! Chips! in the name of the Profit! Chips! G. O. M.

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TO THE INCOMPLETE (POLITICAL) ANGLER.

O BRUMMAGEM JOSEPH, my boy, will you halt on Your sturdy, but scarce diplomatical way, And take from an ancient disciple of WALTON A few friendly hints about patience and "play"? As an Angler you have _Mr. Punch's_ best wishes, But _do_ you consider it wise, ere you start To throw stones in the water, and stir up the fishes? That's scarcely the right piscatorial art. No, stillness and silence, and delicate tact, Sir, Are needed for handling the rod and the reel. You may pelt and may splash, but you'll find it a fact, Sir, Who frightens the fishes will not fill his creel.

***

HADWICE GRATIS.--The Vaudeville Theatre announces a new play by Mr. ENERY HAUTHOR JONES, called _Heart of Hearts_. To popularise it for Town use, much better call it _'Art of 'Arts_ at once.

***

NEW ORDER (_not issued from the Horse Guards._)--The entire British Army to be submitted to a Fortnightly Review for the next three months at least.

***

MEM. FOR POLICE BY GENERAL-INSPECTOR PUNCH.--Stop the Orators in Trafalgar Square, and let the Fountains be the only ones to spout.

***

'ARRY STRATFORD-ATTE-BOW'S FRENCH MOTTO FOR THE FIFTH OF NOVEMBER.--"_Toujours Guy._"

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OUR ADVERTISERS.

INVERTED, EDUCATIONAL, MEDICINAL, AND MISCELLANEOUS.

WANTED, BY AN INCORRIGIBLE LITTLE BOY, whose Parents have threatened to send him away from home on account of his perpetually insufferable conduct, a suitable domicile, where he will be afforded every facility for continuing it without hindrance and interruption. A quiet old country clergyman, and his wife, both a little short-sighted, and hard of hearing, occupying a retired Vicarage, that is in want of a little waking up, might write. House must be conveniently arranged for the setting of booby-traps, possess a good old-fashioned striking-clock, with accessible inside, a get-at-able upstairs' cistern, a dinner-gong, and plenty of bells. Bedroom might be furnished with a view to an occasional display of fireworks. Staircase with good top-to-bottom slide-down balusters indispensable. Would be glad to hear if there is a powerful garden-engine, in good working-order, on the premises; and also whether there is a decent sweetstuff and gunpowder-shop within easy distance. Apply by letter to "TARTAR," Scarum Hall, Flingover, Notts.

***

THE PRINCIPAL OF A YOUNG GENTLEMAN'S ACADEMY, who has, in turns, been a Stock-jobber, a Solicitor struck off the Rolls, a Light Comedian, an Undertaker, a Professor of Calisthenics, and a Hansom-cab Driver, and has now taken to the Education of Youth as a last resource to make ends meet, is anxious to hear from a sufficient number of dupes, in the shape of parsimonious Parents, to enable him to start his scheme, and see whether he can make anything out of it. They must be fools enough to believe that a thoroughly high-class, commercial, and classical education, including instruction in five modern languages, fitting the recipients for immediate entry into either the Church, the Army, or the Bar can be furnished, together with the use of an extensive swimming bath and gymnasium, and an unlimited supply of the very best diet, without any charge for washing, books, or extras, for twenty guineas per annum. The fact that a retired waiter from a Boulogne Restaurant takes charge of the Modern Languages, while the Higher Mathematics and swimming are entrusted to a late Custom House Officer, and the Classical and other Departments, are under the immediate supervision of the Principal, may be taken as a guarantee that the advertised curriculum is scrupulously and efficiently carried out. Apply for further Particulars to "PRINCIPAL," Uncertificated Tutors Association, S.E.

***

WANTED, BY THE PROPRIETOR OF A PATENT MEDICINE, a nervous and confiding Client who after reading a whole newspaper advertising column of diseases, and persuading himself that he is afflicted with most of them, will believe that by an outlay of 1s. 1½d., he can entirely cure himself of the whole lot of them on the spot. He must not be disheartened if the first trial produces no effect. On the contrary, if the nostrum appears to develop fresh and disagreeable symptoms, he must manfully persevere, and face in turn neuralgia, rheumatic gout, fever, lumbago, sciatica, incipient paralysis, and even greater complications, rather than relinquish the remedy when he has once had recourse to it. In this way, it is obvious, he will not only be able to afford a permanent support to the sale of a dangerous and deleterious compound, but will, by its continual use, effectually and completely succeed in ultimately shattering his own constitution. Apply, "PROPRIETOR," Jollop's Specific Restorator, Patent Medicine Works, Pill Hill, N.E.

***

WANTED, A QUITE INEXPERIENCED HORSEMAN, to purchase, on the recommendation of a tricky Job Master, a thoroughly unsound and spavined Bay Cob that will be represented as having been "parted with" by its late owner, "a sporting Duke," for "no fault whatever." The creature, however, that is short in the wind, swollen at the hocks, an ugly stepper, and has not a single good point about it, having recently, when in the funeral business, kicked in a hearse, it has been decided to palm it off on the first unsuspecting purchaser that turns up as "quiet to ride" and going "nicely in harness," and it may confidently be relied upon to throw an unskilful or aged rider, or smash up a brougham at the very earliest opportunity. As it has also, at a previous period in its career, served as a trick horse at a Circus, and will, on meeting a German band, sit down on its haunches, it might be safely secured by any equestrian to whom some astonishment and a little music mingled with his morning's ride might prove a pleasing experience. Can be seen at GULLY'S Stables, Blinder Street, S.W.

***

A FEW THOROUGHLY UNSUSPECTING TENANTS wanted by a Jerry Builder, who has just run up a terrace of new houses anyhow, and is anxious to see if anybody can manage to live in them. None of the doors shut, all the windows let in draughts, and there are practically no drains. As the walls are one brick thick, and the playing of a piano can be heard through six houses, neighbours of a conversational turn might find a residence in them advantageous. Warranted to come down with a run in a high wind. Apply, "Builder," Dustbin Terrace, Killingham Road, E.

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CONVENTION-AL POLITENESS.

_Madame France (with effusion)--_

"And doth not a meeting like this make amends?"

I trust I have quoted with textual accuracy your so charming, and to the actual situation happily appropriate poet?

_Mr. Bull (avec empressement)._ It does--or perhaps I should say doth--indeed, Madam. As to the bit from the bard--well, may its appropriateness never be less! How much pleasanter than the grim dictum of an elder rhymester, who referred to your people as those

"Whom nature hath predestined for our foes, And made it bliss and virtue to oppose."

_Madame France._ The barbarian! Oppose, indeed! Why should we oppose each other, dear Monsieur BULL?

_Mr. Bull._ Why, indeed?

_Madame France._ True, your bellicose Lord PALMERSTON did oppose my great FERDINAND'S grand idea, and that from motives the most insular and unenlightened. Just as some few poltroons in your sea-girt isle at present oppose the Channel Tunnel, which yet, in good time, will doubtless become as benign an actuality as the Suez Canal itself.

_Mr. Bull._ Humph! PAM had perhaps his reasons, which, in the light of subsequent events, one must admit not to have been without their weight.

_Madame France._ Oh, Monsieur BULL! "Greater freedom of intercourse between nations is the tendency of our industrial and social development, and the tide of human intelligence cannot be arrested by _vague fears_." So I read in a pamphlet on the Tunnel. How true, is it not?

_Mr. Bull._ Doubtless; as true as that the tide of invasion could not be arrested by cosmopolitan cant.

_Madame France._ Invasion? Fie, Monsieur BULL! In the new lexicon of international amity there is no such word.

_Mr. Bull._ If the excision of the _word_ could absolutely abolish the possibility of the thing, all would be well--between you and Germany, for instance.

_Madame France._ _Sacre-e-e!_ I beg pardon. Expletives should also be banished from civility's lexicon. But BISMARCK is a _monstre_, a _miserable_,--whereas you----! [_Bows sweetly._

_Mr. Bull._ Inarticulate flattery, Madam, is irresistible--and unanswerable. The renewal--if, indeed, it was ever _really_ interrupted--of the _entente cordiale_ between us, is a blessed boon not to be matched in value by a hundred--Tunnels!

_Madame France._ And this Convention is the sign and seal of that renewal, _n'est-ce-pas_? I _knew_ you never intended to stop in Egypt.

_Mr. Bull._ Longer than was necessary--assuredly not, Madam. And I was _certain_ the New Hebrides had no real charms to permanently arrest your feet.

_Madame France._ Though a _pied à terre_ in Raraitea, of course--you comprehend, Monsieur!

_Mr. Bull._ Perfectly. The questions of Egypt and the New Hebrides, of our post near the Pyramids, and your Protectorate near Tahiti, have, of course, no real connection.

_Madame France._ Obviously, Monsieur! Are they not dealt with in separate Conventions?

_Mr. Bull._ Ah! if all quarrels--I beg pardon, political problems--could as easily be settled by a Conventional Act!

_Madame France._ How welcome to you, Monsieur, to all parties in your Parliament, to the "rescuers" as to the "retirers," to your Lord CHAMBERLAIN, as well as to your Grand Old GLADSTONE, must be the prospect of an early, not to say immediate withdrawal from the Land of the Pharaohs! Surely the fugitive Israelites of old never left it with such pleased promptitude as _you_ will--"scuttle out" of it! Have I accurate memory of the Beaconsfieldian phrase, Monsieur?

_Mr. Bull._ Your memory, Madam, is miraculous. The forty centuries--_or, however, many more there may happen to be there at the moment of my departure_--will doubtless, in the words of your own great phraser, "look down from the Pyramids" with emotions not less marked than my own--and yours, Madam.

_Madame France._ My emotions at the present moment--and yours, I hope, Monsieur--are simply of supreme joy at the so happy removal of difficulties and the so complete restoration of amity between us by this charming Convention, so satisfactory in its actual terms, so much more so _in its promises for the future_. I felicitate you, dear Monsieur BULL.

_Mr. Bull._ And I, Madam, reciprocate your felicitations. (_Aside._) It pleases her, apparently, and I do not see that it can possibly hurt me! [_Left bowing._

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OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.

"_My Autobiography and Reminiscences_," by W. P. FRITH, R.A. The Modern Hogarth, painter of "_Ramsgate Sands_," "_The Derby Day_," and "_The Road to Ruin_," can use his pen as well as his pencil. "Where got thou that goose-quill?" as _Macbeth_ would have said, had SHAKSPEARE wished him to do so. How is it that Mr. FRITH has never employed his goose-quill before? Sometimes it is soft-nibbed, and occasionally hard-nibbed, but it is almost always well pointed; and, though he writes with an overflowing pen--for he frequently has to check his impulsive waywardness--yet there is scarcely a blot on the paper throughout the two volumes.

Mr. FRITH is, first and foremost, a humorist, and, in his humour, so like THACKERAY, and so unlike DICKENS, that it is no wonder, considering the consistent inconsistency of human nature, he should have loved the latter, and disliked the former. Yet, with all his aversion to THACKERAY, personally--and "all his works" too, apparently, as he hardly mentions them--he records something very remarkable about the Satirist of the Snobs which could not be guessed at from THACKERAY'S own letters, nor from the anecdotes told about him. And it is this; that THACKERAY could make, and on occasion did make an excellent after-dinner speech. At the Macready banquet with BULWER LYTTON and DICKENS present, Mr. FRITH tells us, "THACKERAY also spoke well and very humorously." And there are three other instances; so that THACKERAY, who has recounted his own failure at the Literary Fund dinner, and whose utter collapse at the Cornhill Magazine dinner is a matter of Literary history, was not always a mistake as an after-dinner speaker. The modesty exhibited by Mr. FRITH in this autobiography is an exhibition as novel and attractive as was FRITH'S other exhibition in Bond Street,--because few autobiographers possess so keen a sense of humour as to be able to laugh at themselves, and to be candid about their own foibles and follies. Indeed some persons may think, and indeed he inclines to this opinion himself, that he goes too far in his frankness when narrating the practical jokes of that unscrupulous and cruel _farçeur_ SOTHERN the actor, in some of which the autobiographer appears to have played a small, but not altogether unimportant part. In his way Mr. FRITH is as frank and open in his revelations as to his past career, as was Cardinal NEWMAN in his straightforward _Apologia pro suâ vitâ_. In fact in these SOTHERN latitudes--there was a great deal of latitude in that quarter--Mr. FRITH'S work is suggestive less of an autobiography than of a naughty-biography. He owns that he feels "humiliated and pained" at recounting THACKERAY'S rude jocularity towards himself, and from the apologetic tone with which he introduces some of SOTHERN'S caddish practical jokes, in which Mr. FRITH had no share, and of which he was not the victim, it may be inferred that he had already begun to feel "humiliated and pained" at having given so much space to such stories. How glad he must now be that he kept a "dear Diary," which has been an invaluable aid to his memory.

Another great merit in the book is that, without ever sacrificing its character as an Autobiography, it is never egotistical; egoism being the great "I-sore" of such works. Should the humble individual who writes this necessarily brief notice ever arrive at the time for publishing his Recollections, he is perfectly sure that the book will be unequalled as a work of imagination. Mr. FRITH tells us how he improved his pictures by touching them up,--some people, too, are occasionally improved by the same process, if the "touching up" is only done judiciously,--and his self-restraint is therefore really admirable when he rejects the temptation to embellish, or spice, a story which no one is likely to contradict. For instance, in what may be called the Sass-age portion of his early life, he has some amusing anecdotes about Mr. JACOB BELL, then an Art student. BELL drew a man hanging, and SASS, the master, told him to leave the studio, "as such a career," as the man hanging, "is a bad example to your fellow-pupils." Now Mr. FRITH ought to have given BELL a triumphant exit speech--he ought to have said to SASS, "Sir, I was only illustrating what should be the fate of every one of your successful pupils--_to be hung on the line_. Good day." Exit BELL. Then he recounts how JACOB BELL, who, like SOTHERN, had a taste for such practical jokes as are utterly indefensible on the score of good taste and gentlemanly feeling, dressed up as a woman, and went to a Quakers' Meeting House, where he sat among the female portion of the congregation. Thinking he was discovered, this nice young man "took fright," and bolted. Here Mr. FRITH should have made the jovial JACOB subsequently explain that "he left because the women were all jealous of him, as he was the only 'BELL' among them." Mr. FRITH, full of his fun, jests, and humour, must be congratulated on having stuck to the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

And if anyone wants a first-rate ghost-story for the coming Christmas time, let him get Mr. FRITH'S book, and read how the prosaic and sensible Mr. WESTWOOD saw a ghost. It is simply but exquisitely told, and were it not that Mr. FRITH had previously owned to his complicity with SOTHERN in some of his "spiritualistic" demonstrations, there would be no sort of ground for suspecting him capable of joking on such serious subjects. The book is full of good stories, among which _The Mysterious Sitter_ and _Beckford at Fonthill_ are about the best. There is already a rail round MUDIE'S counter, and in front of all SMITH'S stalls, to keep off the crowds from taking away FRITH'S latest production without paying. Many of us are eye-witnesses to the fact of the rails in front of SMITH'S bookstalls all the way down the line wherever a train runs. Mr. FRITH'S very good health, and, as his friend _Rip-Van-Winkle_ JEFFERSON used to say, "May he live long an' prosber."

_De Omnibus Rebus_, by the author of _Flemish Interiors_. An odd book to be taken up at odd times. Amusing and chatty with a good deal of shrewd observation. He who rides may read; and as it is published by NIMMO, this firm in this instance might adopt the old Latin motto, "_'Nimmo' mortalium omnibus horis sapit_;" i.e. "NIMMO is wise to bring out a book for the omnibus hours of mortals."

OUR OWN BOOKWORM.

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Madame PATTI'S house, in some unpronounceable Welsh place, was broken into by burglars. We hope they didn't rob her of any notes. The thieves came from Town--they were not Welshmen, oh no! _Mr. Punch_ has always asserted of the Welsh,--

"Taffy's not a thief."

And it wasn't Taffy who went to PATTI'S house and stole a matter of seven pounds' worth of French francs. They found a box of M. NICOLINI'S cigars. But the thieves knew where to draw the line, and chucked the lot away in the garden, among the other weeds. They were "up to snuff," but not to tobacco in this form. Query, will M. NICOLINI'S friends be delighted to accept cigars from his case in future?

***

The Centenary of _Don Giovanni_ was celebrated at the two Universities by a banquet of the principal Dons.

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BARTLETT'S BABY.

Welcome little Stranger! You Are the darling of the Zoo, BARTLETT'S babe, the public pet. Lucky, lucky Zoo to get, At a cost scarce worth the mention, Living proof beyond contention Of--oh! well, of whatsoever _Savants_ sage and critics clever, On their controversial mettle, May--or maybe may _not_--settle. Six-and-twenty years ago (Buffers elderly may know) Rose the great Gorilla feud; Dr. GRAY was rather rude, Rather on DU CHAILLU down, And the shindy stirred the Town. OWEN, great on brains and bones, Lectured it in learned tones; HUXLEY to the battle rushed; Mutually they "pished" and "tushed" In that calm and courteous way _Savants_ have, when they're in fray. _Mr. Punch_, with ample reason, Called you "Lion of the Season," Great Gorilla. Now 'tis plain The old fame revives again. Happy BARTLETT! Lucky Ape! Fortune comes in curious shape. You perchance, oh simian child! Might have roamed the Afric wild, Like a nigger unreclaimed. Unobserved, unknown, unnamed, Fame concerning you quite dumb, Even your "colossal thumb," By the scribes who columns vamp us, Undescribed; your "hippo-campus" (Whatsoever _that_ may be) Not of notoriety. Now!--Ah, infantine Gorilla, Every small suburban villa With your rising fame will ring; All the sort of folk who bring Buns unto the prisoned bear, To your cage will come, and stare. Buns? Oh, BARTLETT,--master sage, Autocrat of den and cage!-- Nothing will begrudge, I'm sure, That may nourish, please, or cure His prognathous little pet. Half the luxuries you'll get Would leave satiate and cloyed Any hungry "Unemployed." Cakes--and, if you like it, Ale-- Oh, Gorilla, will not fail; GUNTER'S you may sack at will, Or, if you prefer to fill Otherwise your dainty maw Than with sweeties and stick-jaw, Like the indiscriminate bear, You may choose your Bill of Fare. Toys? Ah, bring them, baby, quick; Will a monkey on a stick Touch a sympathetic chord? Well, let's hope you won't be bored, Baby Ape, by BARTLETT'S love, And the crowds who'll stare and shove; Long for Afric wild but free, And a station "up a tree," Watching, with prehensile thumb, For--whatever food may come.

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VOCES POPULI.

SCENE--_The People's Palace; In Building set apart for Poultry, Pigeon, and Rabbit Show. Stream of Visitors inspecting animals in zinc and wire pens._

_Amandus Milendius (to Amanda Milendia: coming to a halt before cage containing "roopy"-looking fowl, with appearance of having been sent out on pair of legs several sizes too tall for it)._ They've 'ighly commended _'im_, yer see.

_Amanda M. (who does not converse with facility)._ Um!

[_Looks at bird without seeing it._