Chapter 3

So they lounged down the main thoroughfare of London, with its pleasant _cafés_ and well-appointed _restaurants_, and came to the conclusion (for the fiftieth time) that it was far better than anything of the same kind in Paris, or any other of the capitals of Europe. They had all been abroad during their State-assisted vacation, and consequently had the chief towns of the world, so to speak, at their finger-tips. As they sauntered along, they came to a group of half-starved, perambulating performers, who were giving an entertainment to a crowd of bystanders. It was not a good programme. First a young woman in rags, played on an old piano, with decent precision, some extremely difficult variations of CHOPIN's _Funeral March_. She was followed by a man who painted a portrait of a leading statesman indifferently well. Then another man jumped into the river, and made his way in the cold water with the ease of a fifth-rate professional swimmer. Then a second young woman recited something or other in German, with an atrocious English accent. And the whole concluded with a lecture upon chemistry (given by a seedy-looking old man), which was illustrated with some ambitious, but feeble experiments.

On the balance the performance was a bore, and the public were rather pleased than otherwise, when a police constable ordered the _troupe_ "to move on." The poor people gathered together their _impedimenta_ and prepared to obey the officer's behest. It was then that the performers came face to face with the artisans. There was a cry of recognition.

"Why, would you believe it!" exclaimed one of the workmen, "if it isn't SALLY JONES, and TOMMY BROWN, and NORAH JENKINS, and HARRY SMITH!"

The well-fed and the starving cordially greeted one another. Then there were mutual explanations, and the old man who had lectured upon chemistry had his say:--

"You want to know why we are all starving, and why we are so much worse off than you, although we were educated at the same Board School? I will tell you. It was because you very wisely made up your minds to follow the occupations of your fathers. You became builders, bakers, coal-heavers and paviors.

"Ah, we did that," sighed out the elderly workman, "because we were too backward to attempt anything better. We were not clever people like you! We couldn't play the piano, and paint and swim, and go in for chemistry. We were not clever enough, and had to put up with passing a very low standard."

"Thank your lucky stars it was so," exclaimed the chemist, with tears in his eyes, "for your fate is happier than ours. We are all fifth-rate, and can do nothing else. We have no chance against those who have been born to this kind of thing, and we have forgotten how to do your work. So we are starving, and--"

But here the old man was interrupted by a policeman, who ordered all of them to move on. And on they moved. Half one way and half the other.

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OUR OWN FINANCIAL COLUMN.

"CROESUS" has vanished! We can scarcely find it in our heart to add anything to this distressing statement; but for the sake of our readers whom he may have induced to patronise his financial schemes, we give a few slight details of the disaster.

Four days ago enormous piles of letters began to arrive at our office. They were addressed to "CROESUS," and had been sent on to us from his last address marked "gone away; try office of _Punch_." We opened them. They were all threatening letters.

"Why," wrote one angry gentleman, "have I heard nothing from you since I sent you my cheque for £10,000? Unless I receive a reply within a week, legal proceedings will be taken." The rest were similar in tone. Thereupon we resolved to call at the last address given to us by "CROESUS." It was somewhere in the Mile End Road. We arrived, entered, ascended the stairs, and found in a dingy back bed-room, three used half-penny stamps, a false nose, a pair of whiskers, and a large sheet of paper on which were written only these words: "Sold Again"--which obviously referred to some financial scheme or other. On inquiring of the landlady, we heard that her lodger had departed two days before, taking with him two large and heavy wooden chests. He had promised to return. We then consulted the police. They are very reticent, but consider they have got a clue.

And here we owe it to our readers to make a confession. We have never set eyes on "CROESUS." We engaged him entirely on the strength of the most glowing recommendations from a whole bevy of Bank-Managers, including the Managers of the Bank of Lavajelli, of the Pei-ho Provinces, of Samarcand, of Ashanti and of Dodge County, U.S.A. All these gentlemen wrote in the most complimentary terms of "CROESUS." "He is a man," wrote the Manager of the Dodge County Bank, "whom I have had the honour to know intimately for a considerable number of years. Indeed, we were educated together, and not a day has passed since then without our meeting. I beg to state that I consider him thoroughly fitted for the responsible position of financial director of a high-class Metropolitan paper. His personal appearance is aristocratic and prepossessing, his manners have about them a distinction which impresses all who meet him, and his dress, though modest, is always pleasing. His complete command of twenty-four languages must be of the highest advantage to him in unravelling the tangled skein of international finance." Acting upon such testimonials we engaged "CROESUS." We have now reason to believe that we have been made the victims of a gross and cruel deception. An expert in handwriting, whom we have consulted, gives it as his opinion, that every single one of these recommendations is in the handwriting of "CROESUS" himself, and the police, after protracted inquiries, have assured us that the Banks, whose supposed managers addressed us in favour of "CROESUS," never had any actual existence at all.

All we can do now is to assist justice by publishing herewith the photograph of "CROESUS." We apologise to all whom he may have deceived, but we do not hold ourselves responsible for any damage he has caused. We shall publish no more financial contributions in the meantime.

ED.

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ENGLISH AS SHE IS SUNG.

MR. PUNCH, SIR,--If I start a butcher's business, and give my shop the special title of The _Welsh_ Meat Shop, is the great British Public so narrow-minded as to expect me to sell them only Welsh meat, the produce of Welsh farms only? If so, the Public, with all due respect, is a hass. For if I who have to live,--though perhaps others may not see the necessity for my existence,--by my trade, find that the Welsh meat, which the Public had expected to be ready and waiting, is not forthcoming, only one of two things can I do; the one is to shut up shop (which I won't), and the other is to provide my intending customers with French, Indian, English, Irish, Scotch, American, Australian, New Zealandian, Cape Colonial, in fact with any meat I can get from anywhere, and as long as it is toothsome, and I can afford to sell it at an average price, why should it not be sold at my Royal Welsh Meat Shop?

When I call my shop The Royal Welsh Meat Shop, do I thereby bar myself from dealing in English or foreign meats? Do I bar myself from dealing in Indian pickles or China oranges? No, certainly not; nor do I bar myself from selling neckties, gloves, ginger-beer, and Brazil nuts. So, when a House of Musical Entertainment is styled The English Opera House, it must be understood, "all to the contrary nevertheless and notwithstanding," to mean an English House where Opera may be performed, and not a Theatre where only English Opera is Housed. "My soul can not be fettered," as the poet says,--what poet, I don't know and don't care, but he said it, whoever he was, and _he was right_. If there is no English Opera for my House, then I get a French Opera, or a Dutch one, just as at an oyster-shop--but perhaps this is not quite the illustration I should like, as, at an oyster-shop, they _do_ ask you which you will have, "Natives," or "Seconds," or "Anglo-Dutch"; and, when you can't afford Natives, you put up with an inferior quality at a lesser price. But if that oyster-seller called his shop "The Native-Oyster Shop," should I have any ground of action against him for selling any other oysters except Natives? No. But then he would ask me "If I wanted Natives or not?" And if I said "Yes," he would give me Natives. Now I admit I do not ask the Public at the doors Which will you have? because I may not be able to have an English Opera always on tap, so to speak. Metaphors a bit confused, but you know what I mean. If I had a few English Operas on tap I might turn 'em on, say, on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays: English Opera by English Composers on those days, and on the other days, any Operas by any Composers. But if the Public _won't_ come on the English Opera nights, and _will_ come on the other nights? What then? Why obviously I must keep my Natives (if I have any) in a barrel, and deal only with the foreign supply. "Blame not the Bard"--I mean blame not the patriotic man of business, but let our cry be "Art for Art's sake," and the English Opera for ever! that is, as long as Art and English Opera pay.

Yours,

A MANAGER FIRST AND ANYTHING YOU LIKE AFTERWARDS.

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LATEST FROM SHOTSHIRE.--The only appropriate beverage for a Sportsman out shooting,--why "Pop" to be sure.

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NOTICE.--Rejected Communications or Contributions, whether MS., Printed Matter, Drawings, or Pictures of any description, will in no case be returned, not even when accompanied by a Stamped and Addressed Envelope, Cover, or Wrapper. To this rule there will be no exception.