Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 101, August 22, 1891

Chapter 2

Chapter 23,703 wordsPublic domain

But if it had been only the plot that was original, I should not have been so anxious to direct attention to _The Trumpet Call_. But the incidents and characters are equally novel. For instance, unlike _The Lights o' London_, there is a caravan and a showman. Next, unlike _In the Ranks_, there are scenes of barrack-life that are full of freshness and originality. In _Harbour Lights_, if my memory does not play me false, the hero enlisted in the Guards, in _The Trumpet Call_ he joins the Royal Horse Artillery. Then, again, unlike the scene in the New Cut in _The Lights o' London_, there is a view by night of the exterior of the Mogul Music Hall. Further, there is a "Doss House" scene, that did not for a moment (or certainly not for more than a moment) recall to my mind that gathering of the poor in the dark arches of a London bridge, in one of BOUCICAULT's pieces. By the way, was that play, _After Dark_, or was it _The Streets of London_? I really forget which. Then, all the characters in the new play are absolutely new and original. The hero who will bear everything for his alleged wife's sake, and weeps over his child, is quite new. So is the heroine who takes up her residence with poor but amusing showmen, instead of wealthy relatives. That is also quite new, and there was nothing like it in _The Lights o' London_. The villain, too, who will do and dare anything (in reason) to wed the lady who has secured his affections, is also a novelty. So is a character played by Miss CLARA JECKS as only Miss CLARA JECKS can and does play it. And there are many more equally bright and fresh, and, in a word, original.

So, my dear _Mr. Punch_, hasten to the Royal Adelphi Theatre, if you wish to see something that will either wake you up or send you to sleep. Go, my dear _Mr. Punch_, and sit out _The Trumpet Call_, and when you have seen it, you will understand why I sign myself,

Yours faithfully, ONE WHO HAS SEEN NOTHING LIKE IT BEFORE.

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"FRENCH AS SHE IS SPOKE."

_From Admiral Gervais to My Lor' Maire._

Much we regret, Lor' Maire, _mon cher_, Your banquet to refuse; But if you fear not _mal de mer_, Pack up your _malle de mer, mon cher_, And join us in a cruise.

_From My Lor' Maire to Admiral Gervais._

_Mon cher_ GERVAIS, Can't say "_Je vais_," Except "_Je vais L'autre côté._" GERVAIS, _tu vas,-- Moi--je ne vais pas._

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LE ROI (EN GARÇON) EN VOYAGE, S'AMUSE;

_OR, WHAT HIS JUVENILE MAJESTY PACKED IN HIS "GLADSTONE," AND SET DOWN IN HIS NOTES, &C._

_Ollendorff_--Servian--in French, German, Russian, and any other Eastern tongues, as yet published.

Twelve dozen Boxes of Tin Soldiers.

Ditto, ditto, Bricks to Match.

_Complete Letter Writer_ (with addenda), specially added by his "Papa," as models to be followed more or less closely when addressing his mother on matters of a homely and domestic character.

The Boy-King's Guide to the proper and decent method of presiding at a Cabinet Council, showing how the same may be conducted conjointly with the introduction of Ninepins, or some other equally interesting, intellectual, and manly game.

List of the best Sweet-stuff Shops.

Ditto, ditto of what's going on, and most worth looking up in places we visit.

Hand-Book to _Leger de Main_, with special reference to Practical Joking at State Functions, and other High Jinks!

Shilling Hand-Book to _Home Made Fireworks_, with Permanent Order signed by War Minister for supply of necessary materials.

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HYJINKS AND HYGIENE.

Hygiene and Demography! Never before With such wonderful names has a Conference met, With statistics by thousands and papers galore As to what Demos wants, as to what he's to get. It's not always perfectly clear what they mean. Yet, perhaps an outsider is right when he thinks Though no doubt they would die for beloved Hygiene, As a matter of fact they indulge in High Jinks.

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NEW WORK BY SIR AUGUSTUS DRURIOLANUS--to be included in the "_Opera Omnia_," by the same Author writing under a _nom de plume_, entitled, "_Legs Taglionis; or, Little Steps for Babes in the Ballet. By a Pa' de Quatre_." Also "_Classes and Lasses_," same series.

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NEPTUNE'S "AT HOME;" OR, NEIGHBOURS UNITED.

The French are all coming, for so they declare, Of their fleet and their tars all the papers advise us; They're to come o'er the sea and to Portsmouth repair, Their squadrons at Spithead will please, not surprise us. Their fleet is to come for a right friendly spree; To promise them "skylarks" is hardly presumption. They're welcome to NEPTUNE's old "Halls by the Sea." Of powder and grog there'll be mighty consumption, In toasts and salutes, for they're friends and invited; JOHN and JOHNNY clasp paws, And drink deep to the Cause Of NEPTUNE's two guests and brave Neighbours United!

The scribes and the specials report wondrous things, Of the grand preparations, the routs and the rackets. Gone the old days of huge wooden walls and white wings, We now meet without mutual dusting of jackets. Well so much the better! Our seas let them try, Their squadrons are welcome to float 'em and swim 'em. Like good _Cap'n Cuttle_ we'll smile and "stand by," Friendly bumpers we'll empty as fast as they brim 'em To welcome his guests Father NEPTUNE's delighted, He'll clasp both their paws, And drink deep to the Cause Of Sailors as shipmates and Neighbours United!

Old NEP is "At Home" to the Sailors of France. Old foes turn new friends as their reason grows riper; "All hands for Skylarking!" A measure we'll dance, With friendship for fiddler and pleasure for piper. 'Tis a good many years since they sought our white shore; Once more at hands'-grip we are glad to have got 'em. As to Jingos or Chauvinists,--out on the bores! Such Jonahs should promptly be plumped to the bottom; Poor swabs! For this party _they_ are not invited; Shall they come athwart hawse As we drink to the Cause Of Shipmates for ever and Neighbours United?

Yes, we know that humanity fondly may scheme For Peace, of all ills the supposed panacea: We know that Utopia's only a dream, Unbroken good fellowship but an idea. Old NEP knows his great Naval Show is now on, And ARMSTRONG and WHITWORTH's huge works he's aware on; He sees what our shipwrights and gunsmiths have done To send foes o'er the Styx in the barque of old Charon. At sight of War's murderous monsters half frighted, E'en valour may pause, And drink deep to the Cause, Of Good-will among Nations and Neighbours United!

But, gushing apart, 'tis a sight for sad eyes To see ancient rivals on joint messmate duty. A French ship in our waters and not as a prize Might once have perturbed British Valour and Beauty. But now Father NEPTUNE, "At Home," calmly grips His trident, and smiles with most friendly benignity. We welcome French Sailors, and shout for French ships, Without an abatement of patriot dignity. To see any friend of JOHN BULL NEP's delighted. He holds out his paws, And will drink to the Cause Of Peace on the Ocean and Neighbours United!

Then shout, Britons, shout, while the neighbouring crews Hob-nob, as the symbol of neighbouring nations; Whilst NEPTUNE at Home welcomes brave Brother Blues, And serves out the stingo to each in fair rations. Your spirits, ye sturdy old seadogs, might smile On a friendship which to your true hearts is no treason. The Sea-God makes free of his favourite Isle The French lads he once would have shied, and with reason. Now to greet brave GERVAIS and his tars he's delighted. Midst general applause Let us drink to the Cause. Hooray for NEP's Visitors, Neighbours United!

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TO THE SHELVED SEX.

(_BY ONE WHO KEEPS HIS EARS OPEN._)

["Believing firmly in the absolute justice of woman's claim to the 'Parliamentary' franchise, I shall at all times support that claim."--_Mr. Logan, the new M.P. for the Harborough Division._]

O woman, in our hours of ease. The mockery of false M.P.'s! When an Election comes in sight, E'en Ministers admit thy "right." Believe them not; they do _not_ dote On the Political Petticoat. 'Tis all a politic pretence. Some of them are upon the fence; Some of them have "political" wives, And shirking stings in their home-hives, Take up "the Cause" with a sham zeal, Which not five in five thousand feel. But hear them over a Club-dinner Chuckling about the "pretty sinner" Who hankers for that finer Club, The House o' Commons! There's the rub! They do not want you there, my dears; The prospect of your "franchise" queers Wire-pullers' plans, and party reckoning-- Hope, in male guise, stands blandly beckoning. He--_Codlin_--is the friend, _not Short_, But, in his heart he's making sport. Of course 'tis wickedest of shames, But--recollect Sir HENRY JAMES, Your open enemy avowed, Did not the House o' Commons crowd Of frauds and shams play up to him, And shelve "the Female Franchise" whim Only the other day? Sheer diddle! Have you not _nous_ to read the riddle? How wondrous prompt was W.G. To back up SMITH! With what sly glee The "Woman's-Rightists" did subside. And--_sub silentio_--let _you_ slide! Your Grand Old Man, dears,--well, _he's_ human. He doesn't want some Grand Old Woman As colleague or as rival. WOODALL? Well, he is gentle, genial, good all; But there's a twinkle in his eye Persuades me that _he_ would not die Did you consent to drop your "claim." And now there comes another name To raise for Shes the party slogan. Well, trust, dears--if you like--to LOGAN; He "will support you _at all times_!" Keep your eye on him! SHAKSPEARE's rhymes Tell you "Men were deceivers ever." M.P.'s wise, foolish, crass, and clever, Are--nominally--on your side, And--privately--your cause deride. Take the straight tip, my dears--I glean it From private talk--_they don't half mean it!_

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THE VOLUNTEERS' FOOTHOLD.--SHOEBURYNESS.

JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL.

BORN, FEB. 22, 1819. DIED, AUG. 12, 1891.

"We could not have been prouder of him had he been one of us."--_Times_.

Bard of two worlds, and friend of both, As ripe in years as culture, verily To miss that voice two worlds are loth, In which much wisdom spake so merrily. A voice, and no mere echo, thine, Of many tones, but manly ever. Thy rustic _Biglow's_ rugged line A grateful world neglecteth never! It smote hypocrisy and cant With flail-like force; sleek bards that ripple Like shallow pools--who pose and pant, And vaguely smudge or softly stipple,-- These have not brain or heart to sing As _Biglow_ sang, our quaint _Hosea_, Whose "Sunthin in the Pastoral line," Full primed with picture and idea, Lives, with "The Courtin'," unforgot, And worth whole volumes of sham-Shen-stone. Yes, you could catch, as prigs may not, Pure women's speech and valiant men's tone. _Zekle_ and _Huldy_ in our hearts Have found a place. But a true Poet, Like SHAKSPEARE's Man, plays many parts. You chid us sharply, well we know it, For you'd the gift of Satire strong, And knew just how to lay the lash on. You smote what you thought British wrong, Well, _that_ won't put us in a passion. "I _ken_ write long-tailed if I please," You said. And truly, polished writer, More like "a gentleman at ease," Never touched quill than this shrewd smiter. Your "moral breath of temperament" Found scope in scholarly urbanity; And wheresoever LOWELL went Sounded the voice of Sense and Sanity. We loved you, and we loved your wit. Thinking of you, uncramped, uncranky; Our hearts, ere we're aware of it, "Run helter-skelter into Yankee." "For puttin' in a downright lick 'Twixt Humbug's eyes, there's few to metch it." Faith, how _you_ used it; ever quick Where'er Truth dwelt, to dive and fetch it. Vernacular or cultured verse, The scholar's speech, the ploughman's patter You'd use, but still in each were terse, As clear in point as full in matter. You'd not disdain "the trivial flute," The rustic Pan-pipe you would finger, Yet could you touch "Apollo's lute" To tones on which Love's ear would linger. Farewell, farewell! Two countries loved, Two countries mourn you. None will quarrel With English hands, which, unreproved, Lay on your bier an English Laurel!

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AN OLD SCHOOL BUOY.--Under the heading of "Church and Schools," the _St. James's Gazette_ gave an interesting illustration of "public spirit in schools." It recounted how "An Old Bedford Boy"--no relation to ROBERT, the Waiter, we believe--in the course of returning thanks, said, "I have bathed in all the great rivers of the world." Then he added, "the water of the sluggish Ouse is the sweetest of them all." Oddly enough his name was "ZINCKE," though evidently he must be a first-rate "Zwimmer." With genuine love for his old school, he might have added that he wished he was a Buoy again. But he seems to have got on swimmingly everywhere.

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"HELPS" AND WHELPS.

The following advertisement appeared some little time since in the columns of a daily contemporary:--

To those who have not time to give their dogs sufficient exercise in London.--A Lady, experienced, would EXERCISE DOGS in the Park. Terms, one hour daily, 5s. a week; two hours, 7s. 6d.--Address, &c.

Listen to this, _Rover_, my hound! This passes expectation! A "Lady Guide," who'll trot you round For scant remuneration!

When pain and anguish wring my brow Because I'm doomed to hark To your "Why-not-go-out?" bow-wow, _She_'ll take you to the Park!

Cometh this ministering sprite, Smiling upon us meekly, And says, "I'll make your burden light For seven-and-sixpence weekly."

They talk of "woman's sphere," when sole, Her hemisphere, when mated; But surely here she's reached the goal For which she was created!

She'll _chaperon_ you down the Row, With silken cord she'll lead Your footsteps where the flowerets blow,-- A "lucky dog," indeed!

She'll win your love by bits of cake, She'll let you bark, or growl, And fight with other dogs, and make War on the water-fowl.

Yet is it right your wayward tramp Her maiden steps should hamper? No one who knows you for a scamp Would take you for a scamper!

And oh!--a thought most base and black, That puts me in a fluster-- My _Rover, would she bring you back?_ No, no, I will not trust her!

The offer tempts--(again that bark!)-- But no--'tis weak to falter; The chain that leads _you_ to the Park May lead _me_ to the Altar!

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FROM A VERY OCCASIONAL CORRESPONDENT.--"At Craig-y-nos we've been keeping up quite Craig-y-noces. High jinks up here. Craig-y-nos means the 'Rock of the Night,' but, mind you, no rock has been required by any of us when we did go to bed, even though we had real Welsh rabbits for supper. Madame PATTI, who takes the Patti-cake here, is far too wiry ever to be a _Patti de foie gras_. Delicious air here, as any air must be in which PATTI has a voice.--Yours truly,

"THE APPIEST OF THE AP JONESES."

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THE DEMOGRAPHIC VADE MECUM.

_Question_. You properly attended the Congress last week?

_Answer_. Certainly, by wearing a small brooch pinned on the flap of my coat.

_Q._ What effect had this on the cabmen?

_A._ To cause them to charge me just double the customary fares.

_Q._ Did you go to the Inaugural Meeting?

_A._ Of course, but as it was so crowded, I could get no further than the door.

_Q._ Did you hear the speech of the Prince of WALES?

_A._ Unfortunately not; but I had the advantage of seeing the top of his Royal Highness's head.

_Q._ Did you go to the _Soirée_ in Lincoln's Inn Fields, at the Hall of the Royal College of Surgeons?

_A._ I did, and was much amused at finding myself drinking claret cup in the museum devoted to skeletons.

_Q._ Did you go to the reception at Guildhall?

_A._ Certainly, and was greatly gratified at the amusements supplied to the Lord Mayor's guests.

_Q._ What were those amusements?

_A._ So far as I could see, the Band of the Grenadier Guards, conducted by Lieut. DAN GODFREY in undress uniform, playing before Sir JOSEPH SAVORY, Bart.; and some charters under a glass case.

_Q._ Was that all?

_A._ Well, I heard some harps, and then of course there were the Lord Mayor's trumpeters.

_Q._ Did you get your hat and coat in comfort?

_A._ In great comfort--after I had fought like a wild beast with other wild beasts for an hour and a half to get up to the place of distribution.

_Q._ Was this part of the programme badly managed?

_A._ It was not managed at all. The City Authorities had not even had the sense to put the numbers available at each counter _en évidence_.

_Q._ Did you derive any linguistic learning from this struggle?

_A._ Certainly. I heard bad language in sixteen different tongues.

_Q._ And what (as a connoisseur) did you think of the oaths?

_A._ That none were comparable to that English expletive which is equally suggestive of a barrier in a river, the mother of a lamb, and the observations of an angry man.

_Q._ Did you go anywhere else?

_A._ The entertainments I attended were so numerous that it is impossible to remember a tithe of them.

_Q._ And what did you do about Science?

_A._ Left it for discussion until the meeting of the Congress to be held next year!

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ROBERT'S AMERICAN FRIENDS.

My Amerrycane Frend has cum back again to the "Grand Hotel." He has bin with us nearly a month, and says he finds it, as before, the werry best Hotel anywheres for a jowial Bacheldore. I thinks as he's about the coolest card as I ever seed, tho as good natured as a reel Lady, and I don't think as that's at all a bad karacter. When he heard as the Germun EMPRER was a cummin to Gildhall, he acshally arsked me to interdooce him to the Lord MARE, as he wanted a few tickets for hisself and frends! And when I told him as that coudn't be manidged, he arsked where he coud buy a few, as he supposed as money coud buy anythink, and praps he wasn't so werry rong arter all. He had two or three Amerrycan frends to dinner the other day, and didn't they jest tork away. One of 'em arsked me if I didn't think as it was shamefoolly xtravagant to give the Lord MARE of our little City jest the same salary for governing his one little square mile, as they in Amerrykey gave their Presedent for governing their hole country, altho it was about thirty times larger than ours. To which I boldly replied most suttenly not, becoz I had herd as there was lots of Presedents in the World, but ony one Lord MARE of London, to which my frend shouted out, "Bravo, ROBERT, that's one to you!"

Amost all their tork was about what they calls their "World's Show," as is to be held at Chickargo, I thinks they called it, the year after next, and what they have naterally come here for, is to arrange for the Lord MARE and his too Sherryffs, with their State Carridges, and state Footmen, and state Robes, to go over and show 'em how to open it! And the funniest one of the lot acshally said as I must go with 'em, for the World's Show woud not be a perfect show without they had in it the most horiginal specimen of a reel London Hed Waiter to show to their 50 million peeple! And I am to have the werry biggest tip as ever a Hed Waiter had. And I'm quite sure as they meant it all, for they larfed all the while as they torked about it.

This same one had a Ticket for Guildhall the hother heavening, when about four thowsand gests was there, and jolly fun he says it was, for they all seemed to begin a drinking of werry good Shampane about Nine a Clock, and kep on at it for above three hours, for there wasn't not nothink else for 'em to do, and so they did that, and did it well.

He arsked me if I coud remember what outlandish names the principal gests was all called, and when I told him I thort they was HIGH-GIN and DEMMY-GROGGY, they all roared again, and shouted out, "that's another to you ROBERT; go ahead, my tulip!" Tho what they meant I'm sure I don't kno.

Our gentlemanly Manager looked in to see how they was a getting on, and when they told him what they called my last joke, ewen he larfed away like the best on 'em. The fust time I gets a chance I'll ask him to explain it all to me.

What seemed to have struck the Amerrycan most, was what he described as the twelve most bewtifool Angels, all most bewtifoolly drest, in most bewtifool close, a playing most bewtifool toons on most bewtifool Arps! which he said reminded him more of Heaven than anythink he had ever seen or heard. He arsked me the name of the bewtifool hair as they played three times, and when I told him as I believed as it was a Welsh wun, and was called "_The March of the Men of Garlick_," he wonderd how men with such bad taste could have written such sweet music.

They can tell jolly good staggerers they can! Why one on 'em said as how we was a getting so scrowged up in the old Country, that they thort of giving us jest a little slice of theirs, and as theirs was about thirty times as big as ours, they could easily spare it.

But this I must and will say, they are perfect Gennelmen, and, as the best possibel proof of it, they is allers werry libbral to me.

ROBERT.

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OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.

Interesting romance is MARION CRAWFORD's _Witch of Prague_: the witch novel might easily have been told in one volume instead of three. Skipping is good exercise.

The casual reader, and the travelling reader or journey-alist, won't get much better entertainment for his money than he will find in _Stories of Old and New Spain_, by THOMAS A. JANVIER. No April foolin' around on the part of JANVIER with metaphysical digressions, but all straight to the point. For sensation, try _Saint Mary of the Angels_. Adelphi melodrama isn't in it with this story. Also in _San Antonio_ there is a simple, quiet humour; and _The Legend of Padre José_ is singularly touching. Altogether a book this of infinite variety. (_Signed_) BARON DE BOOK-WORMS.

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