Chapter 3

Nos. 21, 22, 23. "_The Lyons Mail_" (and Female). BRITON RIVIÈRE, R.A. [N.B.--"R.A.," _i.e._, "Royal Academician" and "Royal Animal-painter."]

No. 27. The Viscount CROSS looking quite Viscount Cheerful. "_Painted for the Grand Jury Room, Lancaster Castle_," the Catalogue informs us. Suggestive of their arguing among themselves "at cross purposes." Painted by SYDNEY HODGES.

No. 77. "_On Strike_." Very striking. Who could have painted this? Ah! _Who but_ HERKOMER. R.A.

No. 82. Apparently this must have been intended for a portrait of the late Mr. DION BOUCICAULT, but subsequently adapted to represent WALTER GILBEY, Esq. Looks quite the GILBEY'S "fine, old, dry," but not "crusted." No doubt whatever of its being the excellent work of W(erry) Q(uaint) ORCHARDSON, R.A.

No. 112. "_Hanson is as Hanson does_." By J. HANSON WALKER. Naturally pleased with "the promise of May," and

No. 118. Another Young Lady only Younger. By the same Artist.

No. 143. The Right Hon. A.J. BALFOUR, M.P., as seen by L. ALMA-TADEMA, R.A. Taken while considering

No. 147. The Irish Question as represented by Sir FREDERICK LEIGHTON, P.R.A.'s "_Perseus and Andromeda_." Allegory, _Andromeda_, Ireland. _The Monster_, "Parnellism and Crime;" and _Perseus_, BALFOUR. Marvellous Monster! DRURIOLANUS should at once order a dozen of 'em, hot and strong, for next Christmas Pantomime. Poor Miss ANNE DROMEDA,--"a dainty morsel _à croquer_," quoth the Monster.

No. 148. No possible doubt whatever about this being A. BERTIE; FREEMAN-MITFORD, C.B., painted by the President of the Painters, who has hit him off to the life. B.M. is taken at the moment when, as a spectator of the Perseus and Andromeda _ballet d'action_, he remembers having seen something like it in "Old Japan."

No. 201. "_Poor Tom's a Cold!_" LAURENCE SCOTT. Picture illustrating the shortest and easiest way of catching his death of cold.

No. 206. "_Two's company, Three's none_," observed the Sun, as blushing deeply, he sank away in the far distance. By MAURICE GREIFFEN LAGEN.

No. 209. The original Pieman met by SIMON going to the fair in very full dress. ARTHUR S. COPE.

No.220. "_A Student_" of ALMA-TADEMA'S style. THOMAS R. SPENCE.

No. 231. "Is it one o'clock?" she said to herself, anxiously. "I hope luncheon will be punctual." The picture will be known as "_Grace before Meals_," delightfully (of course) painted by Sir JOHN E. MILLAIS.

No. 232. By the P.R.A. "What's that?" said one well-educated clerical visitor to his matronly wife. She read it out, pronouncing it thusly, "_Return of Percy Fone_." "What!" exclaimed the Clergyman. Then, taking the Catalogue into his own hands, he read "_Return of Persephone_." "It's pronounced," he informed his help-mate, "Për-s[)e]ph-[)o]-n[)e]." "Is it?" she returned, in a tone expressive of unmitigated incredulity. "Then," she asked suddenly, as a brilliant idea struck her, "why isn't 'telephone' pronounced 'tel-[)e]ph-[)o]-n[)e]'?" And turning her back on him, would not hear another word on the subject.

No. 283. _Not Crossley, but Kindly_. CLAUDE CALTHROP.

No. 333. _Professor Huxley_. By Hon. JOHN COLLIER. When it isn't the Professor, it might serve for Sir GEORGE GROVE. Bravo, Honourable JOHN! "Hang him, JOHN COLLIER!" (SHAKSPEARE adapted.)

No. 390. A Boy to the very life, or a Life Boy. JAMES SANT, R.A. It's a picture of Master HUGH BURDETT MONEY COUTTS. How well this name will look on a cheque for a cool thousand or so! But to see the _Hue_ of health on his cheek is better than seeing the colour of that HUGH'S money.

No. 414. Portrait of Author W. PINERO, Esq. Painted by JOSEPH MORDECAI, who has done to Author PINERO what HAMAN would have done to MORDECAI, _i.e._, hung him.

No. 439. Sitting for Don Quixote. WILLIAM E. LOCKHART.

No. 459. _Stiff Collar Day; or, Just Back from the Wash_, "And, confound it! she's been washing my shirt and tie together, and spoilt 'em both. Wish I had another lot ready, but haven't, so must go to Academy as I am," said WALTER S-WASH-BUCKLER LETHBRIDGE, and finished up with an impetuous and irrepressible "Hang it!" "I will," replied the Artist, JOHN PETTIE, R.A.

No. 544. _Josephine Grimaldina; or, Female Clown_, the next novelty in Pantomime, dedicated to the author and composer of _L'Enfant Prodigue_. JOHN S. SARGENT.

No. 667. _Feeling his Bumps; or, Phrenology in the Olden Time._" ERNEST NORMAND.

No. 651. Gentleman ready for riding, but no spurs. "Where the deuce have I put them?" he is evidently saying. "All ready but that. Can't find 'em anywhere!" A picture which quite tells its own (JULIAN) STORY.

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THE RIGHTS AND WRONGS OF LABOUR.

(_At the service of the Ch-nc-ll-r of the Exch-qu-r, if he purposes writing a Prophetic Romance._)

MACAULAY'S New Zealander had arrived prematurely. London Bridge was not reduced to its centre pier, and St. Paul's Cathedral was certainly not in ruins. Still there was an uncanny look about town. On the Embankment electric tram-cars were running, but they seemed to be little patronised. Here and there he noticed a pedestrian leisurely going his way, but the side-walks appeared, to all intents and purposes, abandoned. At length he reached a garden-seat, upon which was sprawling a Typical Working Man. The New Zealander gave this interesting individual "Good morning," and made some common-place remark about the weather.

"Fine day!" returned the T.W.M., rather surlily. "Well, what does it matter to me? If it rains, I stay at home; if it don't, why I don't either."

"I am a stranger seeking for information," explained the New Zealander; "so I am sure you will excuse me if I ask you how much do you pay for your house?"

"Pay for my house!" ejaculated the T.W.M. "Why, nothing of course! And I pay nothing too for my sons at Oxford, and the girls at Cambridge. And I get my clothes free, and my food comes in gratuitously. Why, you must be a stranger if you don't know that! Why everything and anything is paid by the Government--out of the Income Tax."

"And don't you ever work?"

"Work! bless you, no. I can't afford to work! If I did, I should have to pay the Income Tax myself!" returned the T.W.M., with a grin.

"Then who does contribute to this evidently highly-important source of revenue?

"Why, the professional men, under Schedule D!" cried the hardy son of toil. "The authors with families, and the City clerks. All _that_ set, you know. They pay the Income Tax, sure enough. It's as much as they can do to keep bodies and souls together. But _somebody_ must pay--why not they?--pay for themselves--and for me!"

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THE DUMB SHOW.--It sounds odd that the serious pantomime, _L'Enfant Prodigue_, the play without words, should be "the talk of London."

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LEAVES FROM A CANDIDATE'S DIARY.

"_George Hotel," Billsbury, Friday, April 25th_.--Arrived this morning in order to attend a "Monstre Open Air Conservative Fête, which was held in the grounds of the Billsbury Summer Palace. The programme was a very attractive one. First, there was a "reception of town and county delegates and their ladies" by the Earl and Countess of ROCHEVIEILLE. The Earl is a scrubby little fellow of about sixty, who looks more like an old-clothes-man than anything else. Norman noses--at least their descendants in this generation--are curiously like the Semitic variety sometimes. The name is pronounced "Rovail," and both the Earl and Countess get blue with rage if anybody makes a mistake about it, as nearly all the delegates did. They stood on a raised daïs, and received delegates' addresses to the number of about thirty. Lady ROCHEVIEILLE is a stout lady--very. It was a blazing hot day, and she was "overcome" just as she was shaking hands with Colonel and Mrs. CHORKLE, who were accompanied by BENJAMIN DISRAELI CHORKLE. The rest of the CHORKLE family, including WILLIAMINA HENRIETTA SMITH CHORKLE, who was in a nurse's arms, were somewhere about the grounds looking for the "Magic Haunts of the Fairy Bulbul," and eating enormous quantities of macaroons, which I had given them. Colonel CHORKLE rather lost his head when Lady R. collapsed. He made an effort to pick her up, but had to drop her heavily on the boards of the daïs. Eventually, however, she was carried away and revived, and the proceedings went on. There were Conservative merry-go-rounds, Conservative negro-minstrels, Conservative acrobats and Conservative dancing bears, distributed about the grounds. I was taken about by Alderman MOFFAT and HOLLEBONE, who introduced me right and left to hundreds of my supporters and their wives and daughters. At the end of it all I felt as if I had got a heavy sort of how-do-you-do smile regularly glued on my face. One of my chief supporters is an undertaker named JOBSON. HOLLEBONE brought him up to me and said, "Mr. JOBSON, permit me to introduce you to our popular young Candidate, Mr. PATTLE. Mr. PATTLE let me have the honour of introducing you to our popular young undertaker, Mr. JOBSON." Gave me rather a shock, but JOBSON seemed quite a pleasant man. His wife was there too, gorgeously dressed in red plush with an Indian shawl on her shoulders, and a sealskin muff. She must have felt the heat horribly.

Later in the afternoon there was a political meeting, at which we all spoke, but we had to make it short, as everybody was anxious to get away to the "Refined Musical _Mélange_ (with incidental dances) of the Sisters WILKINS," which was held in a specially erected tent. Fireworks, illuminations, and dancing, ended the affair.

_April 26_.--Was made an Oddfellow to-day. Initiation didn't last long. CHORKLE and JERRAM were initiated with me, and we all had to make speeches afterwards, declaring our devotion to the great cause of Oddfellowship. Afterwards sentiments were called for. The only one I remember was given by a man called TABSEY, a tailor, who seems to be rather famous for this kind of thing. After holding his hand to his head for some time, and knitting his brows, he cleared his throat, and said, in a loud voice,--"May the tear of true sympathy crystallise as it falls, and be worn as a radiant jewel upon the finger of affliction." This was vociferously applauded. I congratulated TABSEY afterwards, and paid him a compliment about it. He told me he found it a great relief, after a hard day's work in the shop, to throw off a sentiment or two. He's going to publish a book of them, and I've had to subscribe for six copies, at half a guinea each.

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FROM A WATCHFUL OBSERVER.--SIR,--The other day I saw advertised in a shop-window, "The Invisible Trouser Stretcher." Who wears "Invisible Trousers"? Do you remember the story of _The Emperor of China's Clothes?_--when they all cried, "He's got 'em on," and he hadn't. That Invisible Trousers should exist is quite enough stretch of imagination without any further stretcher.--Yours, THE DAY WATCHMAN.

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MRS. R. AT THE OPERA.--Mrs. RAMSBOTHAM Junior went to hear _La Traviata_. She expressed her sympathy with _Violetta_, between two _Gourmands_. Remarking on the touching finish to the converted _Traviata's_ career, Mrs. R. observed that it reminded her of the poet's line about "She who stopped to cough, remained to pray."

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