Chapter 2

_Culch._ (_who has just dropped his glasses into his soup_). I--ah--which lady are you referring too? (_He cleans and adjusts his glasses--to discover that he is face to face with_ Miss HYPATIA PRENDERGAST.) Oh ... I--I see--precisely, quite so! (_He turns to_ BELLERBY _to cover his confusion and avoid meeting_ Miss PRENDERGAST'S _eye_.) I _beg_ your pardon, you were describing how you caught a tunny? Pray continue.

_Mr. Bellerby_ (_stiffly_). Excuse me, I don't seem fortunate enough to have secured your undivided attention.

_Culch._ (_with intense interest_). Quite the contrary, I assure you! You were saying you always ordered it out of economy?

_Mr. B._ Pardon _me_--I was saying nothing of the sort. I was saying that I told the Manager I knew that was why he _thought_ I ordered it--a rather different thing! "You're quite wrong," I said. "You may pay twopence-halfpenny a pound for it, and charge me half-a-crown, if you like, but I mean to _taste_ that tunny!" I was determined not to be done out of my tunny, Sir!

_Culch._ (_breathlessly_). And what did the tunny--I mean the Manager--say to _that_?

_Mr. B._ Oh, made more difficulties--it wasn't to be got, and so on. At last I said to him (very quietly, but he saw I was in earnest), "Now I tell you what it _is_--I'm going to _have_ that tunny, and, if you refuse to give it me,--well, I shall just send my courier _out_ for it, that's all!" So, with, _that_, they brought me some--and anything more delicious I never tasted in all my life!

_Culch._ (_to himself_). If I can only keep him on at this tunny! (_Aloud._) And--er--what _does_ it taste like exactly, now?

_Mr. B._ (_pregnantly_), You _order_ it, Sir--_insist_ on having it. Then you'll _know_ what it tastes like! [_He devotes himself to his soup._

_Culch._ (_with his eyes lowered--to himself_). I _must_ look up in another minute--and then! [_He shivers._

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"TYPICAL DEVELOPMENTS."

One of our very occasional contributors, whose valuable time is mainly occupied by the composition of successful novels, sends us the following, written by his type-writer. From this specimen it will be gathered what a real economy in correcting letter-press a type-writer must be.

Dear Editor

I send you my new book to reed and if you likit pleaase give me a legup. The story of my other book was anti-turkish but has not yet been probited in Constanple though it has reachd its tetenth edition, at least the ninth is neraly all shrubshcribed bedfore it isrereaddy. If my pullisher is not sasfide oughtbe. Never use pen now only typwritr so much quickerin tellgible convenent an leshble

Yours S SMUGGYNS

It strikes us that either the machine stammers, or that it was, at the time of writing, somewhat the worse for liquor, or that it is a very truthfully phonetic-writing but somewhat indiscreet amanuensis. At the same time herewith and hereby every success to our friend SMUGGYNS'S new book.

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HARD LINES FOR HIM.--When the first stone of a new theatre in Cranbourne Street was laid the other day by some Magnates of the Theatrical Profession--beg pardon, "_the_ Profession," we should have said--Mrs. BANCROFT made a telling impromptu speech, and then Mr. YARDLEY, ancient Cricketer and Modern Dramatist, was hit on the head--accidentally, of course--by the bottle which is in use on these occasions. "Very YARDLEY treated," observed Sir DRURIOLANUS, in his happiest vein. Not the first literary gent who, according to the ancient slang of the Tom-and-Jerry period, has been "cut" by ill-use of the bottle. But the unfortunate author's sorrows did not end with this sad blow, as, very soon afterwards, his dear friends the Critics, with profuse apologies for being compelled to handle him so severely, were down upon him for his new version of a French piece, entitled _The Planter_. So the logical sequence of events was, that first a blow was planted, and then appeared _The Planter_.

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ECCLESIASTICAL LAYMAN.--At a meeting in Rome, the "Duke di SERMONETA" took the chair. If ever there were a staunch Churchman, this by his name, rendered in English as "Sermon-devourer," should be he.

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OUR OWN FINANCIAL COLUMN.

_Telegraphic Address_--"_Croesus, E.C._"

Sir,--Let me first express my financial acknowledgments to the teeming millions who have honoured me, and benefited themselves by seeking my advice since my first letter appeared last week. Communications containing cheques, postal orders, and stamps, have poured in upon me in one unceasing torrent. The consignors have, in every case, been good enough to say that they handed all they possessed over to me, in the full confidence that I would invest the proceeds to the best advantage in some of the countless undertakings in which I wield a paramount influence. Their trust is fully deserved.

Investors will remember that, in the course of the last German Expedition to Central Africa, a tract of country, rich in every mineral deposit, and admirably fitted for the operations of husbandry, was discovered in lat. 42°, long. 65°. The Germans at that time had not a single handkerchief left, and were unable, therefore to hoist the German flag over the palace of the native king, GUL-GULL. Private information of this was conveyed to me. I at once fitted out an Expedition _at my own expense_, placed myself at the head of it, and after terrible hardships, in the course of which no less than two hundred of my comrades either succumbed outright to the bite of the poisonous _contango_ fly, or had to be mercifully dispatched by the hammer (a painless native form of death), in order to end their tortures, I succeeded in reaching the capital, where I was hospitably received by the king. After a negotiation of three weeks, His Majesty agreed, in the kindest and most affable manner, to concede to me his whole country together with all its revenues, minerals, royalties, timber, water-power, lakes, farm-houses, stock and manor-houses, the whole beautifully situated in the heart of a first-class sporting country, within easy reach of ten packs of hounds; the old residential palace replete with every modern comfort, and admirably adapted for the purposes of a gentleman desiring to set up in the business of kingship. It matters not what I had to pay for this. The secret is my own, and shall go to Westminster Abbey with me. The point is, that with the funds entrusted to me, I have formed the Cent-per-Central African Exploration and Investment Syndicate, and have allotted shares to all those whose contributions have come to hand. As to profit, I have calculated it on the strictest actuarial principles, and find it cannot be less than £100 for every £100 invested. This may seem small, but in these matters moderation is the soul of business. I shall have more to say on this subject next week.

_Answers to Correspondents_.

DISMAL JEMMY.--Why do you suggest that the motto of my new company should be, "_Stealer et fraudax_"? Is it a Latin joke? If so, don't write to me any more. Those who deal with _me_ must be British to the backbone.

ANXIOUS.--You can't do better than send me those £50,000. I guarantee secrecy and quick returns. The Eyeoyu Land Trust is best for your purposes (Pref. deb. 492; stk. 18. 2. 3). Send money at once to CROESUS, E.C. Delay might be fatal.

CAPITALIST.--No doubt, as you say, Consols are Consols; but take my advice and don't give GOSCHEN your money. Why not try the _United Bladder Mortgage Company_? Bladders are bound to go up. They were floated at 10 and are now at 96. _Verb. sap._ No; £20,000 would not be too much.

"POTTER."--Something good may he done in Land Rails, if you can get near enough. Have a shot at them by all means.

"PRACTICAL JOKER."--Quite right. Sell them.

"ANXIOUS INQUIRER" wishes to be informed what is the difference between Preferred and Deferred. If he will tell us how much he expects to receive in each case, the mere calculation of the difference will be an easy matter; but to receive it is quite another affair. If he wishes to know the "distinction" between these two classes of "securities," it may be summed up in the answer to the question, "Will you have it now, or wait till you get it?"

"A PUZZLED ONE."--Sell everything.

"MEET ME BY MIDNIGHT."--Yes. A Loan.

"LAMBKIN."--Part with No. 2, &c., but take care of No. 1.

"INSIDER."--Get out.

"TOTTIE TOTTS."--Here for private consultation from 5 to 7 P.M.

"RICHARD."--_Buy_ Bizzy B's, _Sell_ Early P's, and Spoiled Fives. _Buy_ Jingoes.

"BRUNO."--"Bear" your burdens.

"ADA WITH THE GOLDENHAIR."--Send photo at once. Cannot advise until we know your figure.

"CROESUS, E.C."

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* * * * *

A JUBILEE GREETING!

(_Set to a Song from Sir Walter Scott._)

NOVEMBER 9, 1891.

_Mr. Punch (for self and everybody) loquitur_:--

My Prince, 'tis for our coming King We all lift glass in hand; For him that loud hurrahs do ring To-day all round the land, My Prince, All round a loyal land!

Let sycophantish slave kotoo; You love not such display; Let courtiers cringe and creatures "boo." 'Tis not our English way, My Prince, 'Tis not our English way.

As FLORA to Prince CHARLIE bent It is no shame to bow; And you're a man to be content With man's respect, I trow, My Prince, With man's respect, I trow.

For Fifty Years we've known you, Sir, And liked you. Love is free! That's why the land is all astir, To hail your Jubilee, My Prince, To hail your Jubilee.

In Forty-Six _Punch_ pictured you, "A Sailor every inch,"[A] Toasting "Mamma!" in a stiff brew Without a sign of flinch, My Prince, Without one sign of flinch.

In Seventy-One he stood beside Your door in sad "Suspense."[B] We saw the turn in that dark tide With thankfulness intense, My Prince, With gratitude intense.

From stage to stage your course he's marked Abroad as eke at home; Where'er you've travelled, toiled, skylarked; And now mid-age has come, My Prince, And now mid-age has come.

Come as it comes to all. Most true! But, "let the galled jade wince," Still _Punch's_ pencil pictures you As every inch a Prince, My Prince, Yes, every inch a Prince!

And now your Jubilee we greet, With hearty English joy, Who, as those Fifty Years did fleet, Have watched you, man and boy, My Prince, Have watched you, man and boy.

When all is done that Prince can do, All is _not_ done in vain. That's why we drink Good Health to you Again and eke again, My Prince, Again and eke again!

_Punch_ turns him round and right about, And leads the British roar Which rises in one loyal shout, "Health to the Prince once more! My Prince, Health to him evermore!"

And health to her, the unfading flower From Denmark, o'er the foam. _Ad multos annos_, grace, and power, Love, and a Happy Home, My Prince, Love, and a Happy Home!

Now youth has gone, and manhood come, Your Jubilee we keep, Good-will shall strike detraction dumb, And sound from deep to deep, My Prince, From white-cliff'd deep to deep!

[Footnote A: See Cartoon, "Every Inch a Sailor," p. 129, Vol. XI., Sept. 26, 1846.]

[Footnote B: See Cartoon. "Suspense," p. 263, Vol. LXI., Dec. 23, 1871.]

* * * * *

AN APPARENTLY HARD CASE.--Miss Print is responsible for a great deal. The other day a tender-hearted person read in a daily paper, that a stranger "arriving in Paris, did not even know where to go and die." How sad! But the compositor had only omitted the "n" from the last word of the sentence. So it wasn't so bad after all, though for the stranger bad enough.

* * * * *

"Music's the Food."--At the Savoy Hotel the band of Herr WURMS is advertised to perform during dinner. The name of the dinner might follow suit, and be entitled "The Diet of Wurms, for Gentle and Simple." Of course the band of Herr WURMS is an attraction; "Wurms for bait," eh?

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* * * * *

* * * * *

IO TRIUMPHE!

OR, GREEK FOR HEIFER!

(_By an Old Boy._)

Thee, Camus, reverend renown Thy grateful votaries seek, Foil'd are the Vandals who'd "send down" The Genius of Greek.

For Culture's jewell'd master-key They cupboard pick-locks tend, And in the cult of Mammon see Learning's true aim and end;

Pit shallow youth's impatient fuss Against the grit of CATO, Set IBSEN up for ÆSCHYLUS, And OLLENDORFF for PLATO;

For songs august of heroes sung, And epic hosts embattled, Enforce some pidgin-Latin tongue By every waiter prattled;

For nymphs, where o'er the fragrant pines A sea-bright sun uprises, Their fancy plays round primmest lines Of prigs receiving prizes.

From Sir JOHN CHEKE to Dr. JEBB, From CALVERLEY to MILTON, Clear spirits burst the Sophist-web, And rent the rook they built on.

WELLDON is falsely named in this, For sure, in slighting Greek, he Will Learning's final blessing miss, Her [Greek: kalôs pepoiêke].

What though the urchin deem it "rot" (Such hasty views we stoop'd to, Not seeing how on earth they got _Tetummenos_ from _Tupto_)

Still let us learn, not beastly facts, The field of any booby, But how thought acts and interacts, And contraries can true be.

Though on oblivion's barren shores He give it quick sepulture, Still through reluctant passman's pores Instil the dew of culture.

Still give us of the rills divine That flow from haunted Helicon, Nor rend thyself to feed the swine, Like a perverted Pelican.

Keep far the time when every bee That booms in every bonnet, Shall find a chair of Apiary, And drone long lectures on it.

Still the large light and sweetness seek Of KEATS'S raptured vision, (Or KEATE'S)--till Greek at last meets Greek In brotherhood Elysian.

* * * * *

A NEW TREASURE FOR. THE TREASURER OF BARTHOLOMEW'S.--_Mr. Punch_, G.P.E., General President of Everything, begs to congratulate Professor HUBERT HERKOMER, R.A.M.A., on his admirable portrait of Sir SYDNEY HEDLEY, and now, not only HEDLEY, but Full-Lengthly WATERLOW, Bart., of "Bart's," which H.R.H. correctly described as "a very fine work of Art, painted by one of our most eminent artists." Such approbation of Sir HUBERT HERKOMER is praise indeed! _Mr. Punch_, G.P.E., prefixes the "Sir" prophetically. For the present it may be taken as the last syllable, detached, of "Profes-sir"

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"WELLS, I NEVER!"--"Mr. WELLS," says the _Times_ Correspondent, "has made 250,000 francs" (up to now), and "last year he made £20,000." Talk of the waters at various drinking or health-resorts abroad, why, their fame is as nothing compared with the unprecedented success of the WELLS of Monte Carlo. How the other chaps who lose must be like LEECH'S old gent "a cussin' and a swearin' like hanythink." So the two extremes at Monte Carlo may be expressed by the name of a well-known shopkeeping London firm, i.e., SWEARS AND WELLS.

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* * * * *

NOTHING LIKE LABOR.

(_A Pleasant Prospect suggested by the evidence taken before the Royal Commission_.)

And so the Un-employed rose from the ditch in which he had passed the night, and made for the town. It was early morning, and he thought he could possibly get something to do at the baker's.

"Want to work?" cried the foreman. "Why, my good fellow, it is all over for the next two days. The trade only allows four hours, so we begin at eight on one night, and carry it on until four on the following morning. People get their loaves a little stale, but old bread is said to be good for the digestion!"

So the Unemployed went on until he came to a half-built house. The workmen had left, but there was still a watchman on the premises.

"Want to work! Why _what_ are you thinking about! Why, our trade only allows two hours a day, so we build a house by laying foundation-stones. It is rather slow, but very sure."

So the starving man continued his journey. He was unsuccessful at every trade centre. One industry allowed its members to work only for three hours a day, another two, a third four, and so on. There was only one exception to the rule, and this (so the doctor thinks) was caused by necessity. The undertakers were fully employed twelve hours out of the twenty-four. Even the public-houses were closed at noon. The workhouses and casual wards were never empty.

But being of a sanguine temperament, the Unemployed cheered his drooping spirits by murmuring, "Better luck to-morrow!" Then he retired to his rather damp quarters in the country ditch!

* * * * *

Literary Intelligence.

_Airy opening of article by_ Mr. GINLEY SCORCHSAM, _a rising young author_. "Asked by Editor of _Magazin des Louvres_ to let him have a paper on Art as Applied to Drapery----"

_Note by the Agonised Editor_ (_who has been struggling with MS. for several hours_). "And he _did_ let me have it, with a vengeance!"

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* * * * *

LIGHT CONDUCT IN HEAVENLY BODIES.

DEAR MR. EDITOR,

What on earth, or rather what in the starry Heavens' name is the meaning of this heading to a paragraph in the _Times_ of Tuesday, Nov. 3:--

"APPARENT DUPLICITY OF JUPITER'S SATELLITE No. 1."

Except that the stars are given to wink, I have never before heard of the Heavenly Bodies being accused, of immorality. It is true that the duplicity is said to be only "apparent" or alleged, but this is doubtless due to the precaution of the scientist to escape an action for libel. Flatterers have often been accused of this vice, and Satellites are not much better. A "Star" on the stage might perhaps thus acknowledge the presence of a friend and admirer in the Stalls or in the charmed Circle. But for a Heavenly Body to be guilty of duplicity, and above all for a "Number One" Heavenly Body, is too much. No more will the simple lines

"Twinkle, twinkle, little Star!"

be true. No; if "Jupiter's Satellite No. 1" takes to such light conduct, then shall we, have to read

"Wink, O wink, you little Star!"

Henceforth let astronomers be very careful what observations they make. To what a state of things are we coming, when at night all the sublunary world is nodding, and the Stars above are winking. If there's duplicity in a Satellite of Jupiter, how about Jupiter itself? Can we henceforth put any trust in the Planets? Are they in league with deceitful soothsayers, astrologers, and fortune-tellers? I cannot further pursue the painful subject. We owe a debt of gratitude to the _Times_ for exposing duplicity in the highest places. Imagine treachery in Aurora Borealis! What an awful flirt she would be!! How she'd "wink the other eye!"

Yours, AN ASTRONOMER LOYAL.

* * * * *

FROM MASHONALAND.--Inspired by the success of ARTHUR B., of DE GORSTIBUS NON DISPUTANDUM, and of Sir KETTLE-DRUMMOND WOLFF, our GRANDOLPH meditates a surprise return to his own native land and to Parliamentary life. He announces his intention of changing his name, and will call himself "Lord NIL DESPERANDUM CHURCHILL." Hail to the modern Coeur-de-Lion!"

* * * * *

FINAL.--The _Daily Chronicle_ says it does not regard Mr. GOSCHEN as one of the Puritans of finance. Well, no, perhaps, GEORGE JOACHIM'S finance--like his manner--is rather _Cavalier_!

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ONLY FANCY!

MR. FARMER-ATKINSON, M.P., attending the American Methodist Conference, has been supplying the United States with interesting illustrations of House of Commons manners. Incidentally he observed that Primitive Methodists, members of which body were largely represented in his audience, are "impostors." This led to some misunderstanding, and Mr. FARMER-ATKINSON, M.P., found it necessary to explain that he had used the term "simply in a Parliamentary sense." We learn by special Zadkiel telegram that, on emerging from the Hall after the meeting, the Rev. HERCULES EBENEZER (Omaha), bringing down his clenched fist on the crown of the hat of Mr. FARMER-ATKINSON, M.P., altered its situation in a direction that temporarily obscured the vision of the Hon. Member.

"What do you mean?" inquired Mr. FARMER-ATKINSON, M.P., struggling out of the wreck of his hat.

"I mean it in a purely Pickwickian sense," said the Rev. HERCULES EBENEZER (Omaha), with a seraphic smile that disarmed controversy.

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The GERMAN EMPEROR has lately rearranged his scheme of work for weekdays. From six A.M. to eight A.M. he gives lectures on Strategy and Tactics to Generals over forty years old. From eight to ten he instructs the chief actors, musicians and painters of Berlin in the principles of their respective arts. The hours from ten to twelve he devotes to the compilation of his Memoirs in fifty-four volumes. A limited edition of large-paper copies is to be issued. From twelve to four P.M. he reviews regiments, cashiers colonels, captures fortresses, carries his own dispatches to himself, and makes speeches of varying length to all who will listen to him. Any professional reporter found taking accurate notes of His Majesty's words is immediately blown from a Krupp gun with the new smokeless powder. From four to eight he tries on uniforms, dismisses Ministers and officials, dictates state-papers to General CAPRIVI, and composes his history of "How I pricked the Bismarck Bubble." From eight to eleven P.M. His Majesty teaches schoolmasters how to teach, wives how to attend to their families, bankers how to carry on their business, and cooks how to prepare dinners. The rest of the day he devotes to himself. On Thursday next His Majesty leaves Berlin on his tenth visit to the European Courts.

* * * * *

There is no truth in the report that the Lord CHANCELLOR is arranging a Christmas party, to which shall be invited all the members and connections of his family for whom he has found places during his term of office. It is well known that the accommodation at Lord HALSBURY's town residence is comparatively limited.

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