Chapter 1

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PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

VOL. 103.

December 17th, 1892.

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MIXED NOTIONS.

No. 1.--BI-METALLISM.

SCENE--_A Railway-carriage in a suburban morning train to London. There are four Passengers, two of whom are well-informed men, while the third is an inquirer, and the fourth an average man. They travel up to London together every morning by the same train. The two_ Well-informed Men _and the_ Average Man _are City men; the_ Inquirer _is a young Solicitor. They have just finished reading their morning papers, and are now ready to impart or receive knowledge._

_Inquirer._ They don't seem to be making much of this Monetary Conference in Brussels.

_First Well-informed Man._ Of course they're not. I knew how it would be from the start. I met HARCOURT some time ago, and told him what I thought about it. "You mark my words," I said, "the whole blessed thing will be a failure. You haven't sent out the right men, and they're certain to waste their time in useless academic discussions." He seemed surprised, but he hadn't got a word to say.

_Inquirer_ (_deeply impressed_). Ah!

_First W. I. M._ The thing's really as simple as A B C. Here are we, a country with a gold standard, and we find that gold has appreciated. What's the consequence? Why, silver goes down everyday, and commerce is dislocated,--absolutely dislocated. All we have to do is to----

_Second W. I. M._ (_breaking in_). One moment! When you say gold has appreciated, you mean, of course, that the purchasing power of gold has increased--in other words, commodities are cheaper. Isn't that so?

_First W. I. M._ Yes. Well, what then?

_Second W. I. M._ What's your remedy? Do you think you can make things better by fixing a ratio between gold and silver? In the first place, you can't do it; they've got nothing to do with one another.

_First W. I. M._ (_triumphantly_). Haven't they? What have you got to say, then, about the Indian rupee? That's where the whole of your beautiful system comes to grief. You can't deny that.

_Second W. I. M._ The Indian rupee has got nothing to do with it. My theory is, that it's all due to the American coinage of silver, and (_vaguely_), if we do the same as they, why, we shall only make things worse. No, no, my boy, you've got hold of the wrong end of the stick, there. Look at the Bland Bill. Do you want to have that kind of thing in England?

_Inquirer._ God forbid! By the way, what was the Bland Bill?

_Second W. I. M._ _What!_ you don't know what the Bland Bill was? Don't you remember it? It provided that a certain amount of silver was to be coined every year, and the Treasury was to hold the surplus until it reached a certain value, and then,--but every schoolboy knows what happened.

_Average Man._ What did happen, as a matter of fact?

_Second W. I. M._ (_scornfully_). Why, the market was flooded.

_First W. I. M._ Yes, and that exactly proves my point. Make fifteen the ratio between gold and silver, and you'll never have the market flooded again.

_Second W. I. M._ (_hotly_). How do you make that out?

_First W. I. M._ It's as plain as a pikestaff. Make silver your legal tender for large amounts in this country, and you stop all these United States games at one blow.

_Second W. I. M._ Fiddlesticks! I suppose you'll want us to believe next that if we become bi-metallists, corn and everything else will go up in value?

_First W. I. M._ Of course it will. We've only got to get Germany and France, and the rest of them to come in, and the thing's as good as done. What I say is, adopt bi-metallism, and you relieve trade and agriculture, and everything else.

_A. M._ Do you mean we shall have to pay more for everything?

_First W. I. M._ No, of course not; I mean that the appreciation of gold is a calamity which we've got to get rid of.

_A. M._ I don't see it. If my sovereign buys more than it did years ago, that seems to be a bit of a catch for me, don't it?

_First W. I. M._ Ah, I daresay you think so, but you're wrong. If you fix a ratio, things may be dearer, but you'll have twice as much purchasing power.

_Inquirer_ (_anxiously_). How do you fix a ratio?

_Second W. I. M._ Ah, that's the question!

_First W. I. M._ That's not my business. I say it ought to be fixed, and it's for the Chancellor of the Exchequer and the Bank of England to do it.

_Second W. I. M._ (_decisively_). The Bank can't do it. Its Charter won't allow it.

_Inquirer._ How's that? I never quite understood the Charter.

_Second W. I. M._ By the Charter the Bank has to----

[_But at this moment, the train having drawn up at a station, an intruder gets into the carriage. He is severely frowned upon, and the conversation, thus checked, is not resumed._

_Inquirer_ (_getting out at terminus, to_ First W. I. M.). I think I've got a pretty clear notion of Bi-metallism now, thanks to you.

_First W. I. M._ (_modestly_). Oh, it's quite simple, if you only take the trouble to give your mind to it.

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_OUR_ "MISSING WORD COMPETITION."

_Guaranteed exempt from any Treasury prosecution under 1st Jingo, B. IV. Cap_ (_Fit_) 1, _sec_ (_Pommery_) '74. (_Heading, "Wish you may get it."_)

MR. PUNCH

DESIRES TO CONVEY TO ALL, URBI ET ORBI, HIS VERY KINDEST ....... AND BEST....... FOR THE COMING CHRISTMAS, 1892.

N.B.--_Coupons must be cut from the current number, and should be sent to_ SIR JOHN BRIDGE, _Bow-Street, E.C., with shillings for the Poor Box to same address._

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THE QUEEN AND THE SONGSTRESS.--In consequence of Her Gracious MAJESTY'S marked approbation of Miss PALLISER'S operatic performance at Windsor Castle, Sir DRURIOLANUS WINSORENSIS UBIQUITOSUS has serious thoughts of asking the young cantatrice to change her name to Miss ROYAL PALLIS-ER; or, if she has the honour of singing "By Command" in London, to Miss BUCKINGHAM PALLIS-ER.

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"NEXT PLEASE!"--_My Brother's Out_--new work by Mrs. LOVETT CAMERON, Authoress of _A Sister's Sin_.

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"THE WANDERING MINSTREL."

(_Modern Kensington Version._)

[The London County Council has declined to co-operate with the Kensington Vestry in a representation to the Home Secretary for more efficient control over itinerant musicians, street-cries, and similar nuisances, on the ground that though the Council has power to make bye-laws for this object, there are no means of enforcing them.]

SCENE--_Highly respectable Terrace in Kensington. The exterior of_ MR. TAMBOUR'S _house. Enter_ JEM BAGGS (R.H.) _playing the clarinet badly._

_Jem B._ (_loq._) Vell now! that's vot I calls wery tidy vork! Bob and a tanner for seven doors ain't none so dusty, blow me! Summat better this 'ere than orkin' "'All the new and popilar songs of the day for a penny!" Vot miserable vork that vos to be sure! I vos allays a cryin' about the streets, "Here y' are--one 'undered and fifty on 'em pootily bound in a Monster Song Book for a penny!--Here's '_Ran-ta-rar-roopy-ay!'--'Mary, they 'ave raised my Screw'--'Sling yer 'ook, yer 've got no oof, John.'--'Snide Sammy courted Sally Brown'--'On the Banks of the yaller Lea.'--'Chummies! Chummies!'--'Fanny Tooney'--'The Man who ran the Muglumberer's Building Society'--'Dandy Dan, the Whelk Man, and 'is Donah'--'He vos famed for gargling Fizz'--'His there a Lip vot never Lapped?'--'A Life on the Lotion-Lay'--'If I 'ad a Monkey on, vouldn't I go!'--'Down to the Derby vith a Shallow and a Moke'--'Oh, say not Modern Art is Sold'_--for the small charge of a penny!" I dessay I might ha' been at that there callin' to this werry day, if it hadn't been for BOSKY BILL. I shall never forget BOSKY BILL'S a-sayin' to me--says he, "I say, JEM BAGGS, vy don't yer take to the singin' line?" "Cos I sings vorser than 'The Big Bounce,'" says I. "Vorser!" says he, "Vhy so much the betterer!" "Woice ain't vanted," says he, "only leather and brass. Leather for yer lungs, and brass for yer face, and there yer are, in the 'Alls or out on 'em." "But 'ow about them Bye-Laws, BILLY?" says I. "Bye-Laws be bust!" says he, scornful. "_Who's to henforce 'em?_ Westries and County Councils can't. Bobbies--bless 'em!--_von't_," says he. "So there yer are, JEM BAGGS!" In course I tvigged. Vith my woice _and_ a vistle, sez I, they'll villingly give a tanner to git rid of me! And they _do_! Oh, _I_ know the walley of peace and qvietness, and never moves hon hunder sixpence! (_Looking up at the house._) But I know as there's a hartist covey lives 'ere. Notice-plate says, "Mister TAMBOUR is _hout_." Valker! I know vot that means. I thinks as how he'll run to a shilling. Anyhow, I'll kick him for a bob.

[_He strikes up, taking care to make as much noise at possible._

'Tis hof a great Council in London doth dvell; Jest vot they are arter 'tvould floor me to tell. They're qvite a young body--not seving years old-- But they've spent a large fortin in silver and go-o-old. Singing, Ills ve vill cure all on the Sosherlist lay.

As the Council vere a sitting in their Chamber von day, The Westry come to them, and thus it did say:-- "Ve're off to the Home Sec., street shindies to stay, So put on your toppers, and come vith hus, pray!" Singing, &c.

"Nay, Westry," said the Council, "your vish is declined, To co-operate (at present) ve can't make up our mind; Our Bye-Laws the Bobbies von't enforce. 'Tis a bore! But the Public must bear it just a year or two more!" Singing, &c.

"Go to, County Council!" that Westry replied, "You svagger no end, and put on lots of side; But vhen plain reform 'tis our vish to begin, By _your_ aid ve don't benefit not von single pin!" Singing, &c.

[_His melodious flow is interrupted by a violent rapping at the window, and the sudden opening of the street-door._

_Jem Baggs_ (_loq._) Aha! I knew they couldn't stand that werry long. Out comes the sarvint vith tuppence or thruppence, and a horder for me to "move on." Valker! There ain't no Bobby in sight, and I shan't shift under a shilling. Vell, they may say vot they likes agin the County Council; _I_ says they're jolly good fellers, and I'll drink their bloomin' 'ealth out o' that hartist cove's bob, ven I gets it. [_Tunes up again._

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AT A VEGETARIAN RESTAURANT.

SCENE--_"The Nebuchadnezzar's Head," in the City. Time--The luncheon hour. The interior, which is bright, and tastefully arranged, is crowded with the graminivorous of both sexes. Clerks of a literary turn devour "The Fortnightly" and porridge alternately, or discuss the comparative merits of modern writers. Lady-clerks lunch sumptuously and economically on tea and baked ginger-pudding. Trim Waitresses move about with a sweet but slightly mystic benignity, as conscious of conducting a dietetic mission to the dyspeptic._

_A Vegetarian Fiancé_ (_who has met his betrothed by appointment, and is initiating her into the mysteries_). I wish you'd take something more than a mustard-and-cress roll, though, LOUISE--it gives you such a poor _idea_ of the thing. (_With honest pride._) You just see me put away this plate of porridge. At the "Young Daniel," where I usually lunch, they give you twice the quantity of stuff they do here.

_Louise_ (_admiringly_). I'm so glad I've seen you lunch. Now I shall be able to fancy every day exactly what you are having.

_Her Fiancé_ (_to assist her imagination_). Mind you, I don't _always_ have porridge. Sometimes it's mushroom croquettes, or turnip and onion rissoles,--whatever's going. Now yesterday, for instance, I had----

[_He details exactly what he had, and she listens to these moving episodes with the rapt interest of a Desdemona._

_First Literary Clerk._ No; but look here, you don't take my _point_. I'm not running down SWINBURNE--all I'm arguing is, he couldn't have written some of the things BROWNING did.

_Second L. C._ Of course not--when BROWNING had written them--_that's_ nothing against him.

_First L. C._ (_warmly_). I'm not saying it _is_. I'm telling you the difference between the two men--now BROWNING, he makes you _think_!

_Second L. C._ He never made _me_ think, that's all _I_ know.

_Third L. C._ Nor yet me. Now, 'ERBERT SPENCER, he _does_ make you think, if you like!

_First L. C._ Now you're getting on to something else. The grand fault I find with SWINBURNE, is----

_Second L. C._ Hold hard a bit. Have you read him?

_Third L. C._ Yes, let's 'ave that first. 'Ave you _read_ 'im?

_First L. C._ (_with dignity_). I've read as much of him as I care to.

_Second L. C._ (_aggressively_). What have you read of his? Name it.

_First L. C._ I've read his _Atlantis in Caledonia_, for one thing.

_Second L. C._ (_disappointed_). Well, you don't deny there's poetry in _that_, do you?

_First L. C._ I don't call it poetry in the sense I call WALT WHITMAN poetry--certainly not.

_Second L. C._ There you touch a wider question--there's no _rhyme_ in WHITMAN, to begin with.

_First L. C._ No more there is in MILTON; but I suppose you'll admit _he's_ a poet.

[_And so on, until none of them is quite sure what he is arguing about exactly, though each feels he has got decidedly the best of it._

_First Lady Clerk_ (_at adjoining table, to_ Second L. C.). How excited those young men do get, to be sure. I do like to hear them taking up such intellectual subjects, though. Now, _my_ brothers talk of nothing but horses, and music-halls, and football, and things like that.

_Second L. C._ (_pensively_). I expect it's the difference in food that accounts for it. I don't think I _could_ care for a man that ate meat. Are you going to have another muffin, dear? _I_ am.

_An Elderly Lady, with short hair and spectacles (to_ Waitress). Can you bring me some eggs?

_Waitress._ Certainly, Madam. How would you like them done--_à la cocotte?_

_The E. L._ (_with severity_). Certainly _not_. You will serve them _respectably_ dressed, _if_ you please!

_Waitress_ (_puzzled_). We can give you "Convent eggs" if you prefer it.

_The E. L._ I never encourage superstition--poach them.

_Enter a_ Vegetarian Enthusiast, _with a_ Neophyte, _to whom he is playing Amphitryon_.

_The Veg. Enth._ (_selecting a table with great care_). Always like to be near the stove, and out of the draught. (_The prettiest Waitress approaches, and greets him with a sacerdotal sweetness, as one of the Faith, while to the Neophyte--whom she detects, at a glance, as still without the pale--she is severely tolerant._) Now, what are _you_ going to have? [_Passing him the bill of fare._

_The Neoph._ (_inspecting the document helplessly_). Well, really, er--I think I'd better follow _your_ lead.

_The Veg. Enth._ I generally begin with a plate of porridge myself--clears the palate, y'know.

_The Neoph._ (_unpleasantly conscious that it wouldn't clear his_ ). I'm afraid that, at this time of day--to tell you the truth (_with desperate candour_), I never _was_ a porridge lover.

[_The_ Waitress _regards him sorrowfully._

_The Veg. Enth._ Pity! Wholesomest thing you can take. More sustenance to the square inch in a pint of porridge than a leg of mutton. However (_tolerantly_), if you really won't, I can recommend the rice and prunes.

_The Neoph._ (_feebly_). I--I'd rather begin with something a little more----

_Waitress_ (_with a sad foreknowledge that she is casting pearls before a swine_). We have "Flageolet Fritters and Cabbage," or "Parsnip Pie with grilled Potatoes"--both very nice.

_The Neoph._ (_braving the unknown_). I'll have some of this--er--"Cinghalese Stew." [_He awaits the result in trepidation._

_Customer_ (_behind, dictating his bill_). "What have I had?" Let me see. Braised turnip and bread sauce, fricassée of carrot and artichoke, tomato omelette, a jam roll, and a bottle of zoedone.

[_The_ Waitress _makes out his voucher accordingly, and awards it to him, with a bright smile of approval and encouragement._

_The Enth. V._ (_who has overheard_). A most excellent selection! That's a man, Sir, who knows how to _live_! Ha! here's my porridge. Will you give me some brown sugar with it, please? And--(_to the_ N.)--there's your stew--smells good, eh?

_The Neoph._ (_tasting it, and finding it a cunning compound of curried bananas and chicory_). I--I like the _smell_--excellent indeed!

[_He attacks the stew warily._

_The Enth. Veg._ (_disposing of his porridge_). There! Now I shall have some lentils and spinach with parsley sauce, and a Welsh rarebit to follow--and I think that will about do me. Will you--oh, you haven't finished your stew yet! By the way, what will you drink? I don't often indulge in champagne in the middle of the day; but it's my birthday--so I think we might venture on a bottle between us, eh?

_The Neoph._ (_in whom the Cinghalese Stew has excited a lively thirst_). By all means. I suppose you know the brands here?

_The Veg. Enth._ Only one brand--non-alcoholic, of course. Manufactured I believe, from--ah--oranges.

_The Neoph._ Exactly so. After all, I'd just as soon have bottled ale--if they keep it, that is.

_The Veg. Enth._ Any quantity of it. What shall it be? They've "Anti-Bass Beer," or "Spruce Stout;" or perhaps you'd like to try their "Pennyroyal Porter?" I'm rather partial to it myself--capital tonic!

_The Neoph._ I--I've no doubt of it. On second thoughts, if you don't mind, I'd rather have water. (_To himself._) It doesn't _look_ Vegetarian!

_The Veg. Enth._ (_more heartily than ever_). Just as you please, my boy. But you don't mean to say you've done!

_The Neoph_ (_earnestly_). Indeed, I couldn't touch another morsel, really!

_The Veg. Enth._ I _thought_ that stew looked satisfying; that's where it _is_, you see--a man can come here and get a thoroughly nutritious and filling meal for the trifling sum of fourpence--and yet you meet people who tell you Vegetarianism is a mere passing fad! It's a force that's making itself increasingly felt--you must be conscious of that yourself already?

_The Neoph._ (_politely_). Y-yes--but it's not at all unpleasant at present--really!

_Enter a couple of_ Red-faced Customers _from the country, who seat themselves._

_First Redf. C._ Well, I dunno how _you_ 're feelin'--but I feel as if I could peck a bit.

_Second Do._ I can do wi' soom stokin' myself. Tidy soort of a place this. 'Ere, Missy!--(_to one of the_ Waitresses, _who awaits his commands with angelic patience_) you may bring me and my friend a choomp chop a-piece, not too mooch doon, and a sorsedger, wi' two pots o' stout an' bitter--an' lo-ook sharp about it!

[_Sensation--the_ Waitress _gives them, gently, but firmly, to understand that these coarse and carnivorous propensities must be indulged elsewhere; whereupon they depart, rebuked and abashed, as Scene closes._

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OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.

THE Baron, on behalf of small Baronites, thanks Messrs. CASSELL & Co. for _Fairy Tales in Other Lands_, by JULIA GODDARD, as they are dear old friends with new faces.

One of the Assistants in the Baronial Office says, that _The Coming of Father Christmas_ is most exquisitely heralded by E. F. MANNING, in the daintiest of books. 'Tis published by FREDERICK WARNE & Co. So if you warne't to make a nice present, you know where to go and get it.

If DEAN AND SON are "limited," their stock is unlimited; and, all things considered as far as possible, the Baron's Chief Retainer opines that the picture-books from the Deanery of DEAN AND SON are still the best, and, in kind, the most varied for children. "Which nobody can Dean-y!" _The Little One's Own Wonderland_ is a delightful realm, wherein the very little ones can wander with interest through coloured pictures and easy fairy tales. Among the coloured picture series, the _Old Mother Hubbard of_ 1793, with its contrast, _Old Mother Hubbard of To-day_, is very amusing.

J. S. FRY AND SONS send out through SELL'S Advertising Agency samples of their daintiest specialities in _bonbonnières_. Being issued by a SELL, one fears a take in; but as 'tis all good, the agency of SELL secures a Sale. The chocolates are sure to go down with everyone.

We all know what the sincerest form of flattery is, and certainly our dear old pet, _Alice in Wonderland_, whose infinite variety time cannot stale, will gracefully acknowledge the intenseness of the compliments conveyed in _Olga's Dream_, as written by NORLEY CHESTER, illustrated by Messrs. FURNISS AND MONTAGU (the illustrations will carry the book), and published by Messrs. SKEFFINGTON. It would be a preternaturally wise child who could quite grasp some of the jokes and up-to-date allusions. However, the real original _Alice_ (_in Wonderland_, and _Through the Looking-glass_) with the great Master's, JOHN TENNIEL'S, illustrations, is still, as _Mr. Sam Weller_ said of the Governor, "paramount."

Light and airy are the _Soap Bubble Stories_ blown by FANNY BARRY through her pen-pipe. Wonder is that, in this advertising age, she didn't dedicate them to PEARS.

The Baron's Assistant has a word to say about the Diaries for this next year. If you want a useful Diary, the B. A. would recommend the "Registered Back-loop Pocket Diary," got up, like a sportsman, in the best of leathers by JOHN WALKER & Co., or, "as Friend JOHNNIE observes," HENRY IRVING would say--"to put it briefly, 'WALKER--London.'"

The Baron has recently received two books, not strictly speaking "Christmas Books," though they are, _et cela va sans dire_, books published at Christmas-tide, the one practical and parliamentary, the other philosophical and phenomenal; the former dedicated to the Right Honourable ARTHUR BALFOUR by LUCY, and the latter dedicated to Lord HALIFAX by LILLY. Two prettier names for authors, or rather, to judge of the writers' sex by the sound of the names, for authoresses, could not well be chosen. But authors masculine they are, the pair of them. Mr. W. S. LILLY is to be congratulated on his very taking title, _The Great Enigma_, and all classes of readers will be glad to be informed that it has nothing whatever to do with the Irish Question. If any reader expects to find the Great Enigma solved by the LILLY who toils and spins, then he must not be surprised if the author says to him in effect, "_Davus sum, non Oedipus._"