Chapter 2

_Second 'Arry._ I'll tell you a better--"The 'Ave-a-lunch." Come along!

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"CLOSED FOR ALTERATIONS AND REPAIRS."

(_A SONG OF THE THEATRE ROYAL, ST. STEPHEN'S._)

AIR--"_Killaloe._"

Closed! The long wild whillaloo That oft smacked of "Killaloe," The contagious wrath of Buskin and of Sock Hath abated for awhile, And no more the Emerald Isle On the stage and in the green-room seems to shock. The curtain is rung down, The comedian and the clown, With the sombre putter-on of tragic airs, Are gone, with all the cast, And the Theatre, at last, Is "Closed for Alterations and Repairs."

They may cheer for GLADSTONE hearty, For BALFOUR or MCCARTHY, This, that, or t'other party, As it pleases them to do. They may howl like Mænads crazy, For policies dark and hazy; New stars ere long The stage may throng, To play in pieces new.

The managerial soul Though relieved, upon the whole, From the six years' run, and all its stir and strain; Feels anxiety, no doubt, As to "stars" which may go out, And others that may probably remain. He has run a popular play, Which the Treasury says will pay, Despite of gallery hisses, groundling blares; But there's care upon his face, 'Tis a most expensive place, And 'tis "Closed for Alterations and Repairs."

They may cheer, &c.

No doubt there has been fun, But the piece has had its run. And now from stage and playbill disappears. Now east, west, north, and south, The quidnuncs are giving mouth, Till the Manager would gladly close his ears. Two companies, neither loth, Seek his suffrages, and both Have a _répertoire_ that half attracts, half scares. He's aware it will need _nous_ To make choice. Meanwhile the House, Is "Closed for Alterations and Repairs."

They may cheer, &c.

Much money must be spent Ere the public is content. Says the Manager, "By Jingo, I'm perplext. Shall I keep on SALISBUREE, Or engage old W.G., And what's the piece that I shall put on next? Well, no more need be said, Till July has fully sped And August brings the Autumn Season's cares, Then we'll learn the cast and play-- 'Tis sufficient for to-day That we've 'Closed for Alterations and Repairs.'

"They may cheer the Old Man hearty, Brave BALFOUR, mild MCCARTHY, This, that, or t'other party, As it pleases 'em to do. Their noise half drives me crazy, The future's rather hazy, But interest strong, I trust, ere long, Will crowd my House anew!"

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OH, SAUNDERSON, MY COLONEL!

AIR--"_John Anderson, my Jo!_"

Oh, SAUNDERSON, my Colonel, You're stout and eloquent, But boding; as the raven. Knock ninety-nine per cent. From your Cassandra prophecies, As bogeyish as eternal, And you'll be nearer to the truth, Brave SAUNDERSON, my Colonel!

Oh, SAUNDERSON, my Colonel, Could you but pull together, Orange and Green, a truce were seen To bigotry and blether. 'Tis _they_ that keep the Emerald Isle In pother so infernal. Drop hate and fear, try love and trust, Brave SAUNDERSON, my Colonel!

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OBVIOUS.--The _Daily News_ reports the mysterious disappearance from the Government Saw Mills at Portsmouth, of 2,570 feet of deal. "No one can say," it is added, "what became of the wood." Why, it walked off of course, with so many feet the temptation was irresistible.

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ELECTION NOTES.

(_BY MR. PUNCH'S SPECIAL COMMISSIONER._)

The excitement is getting terrific. In the principal streets party flags are waving gaily. In the suburbs every other house is hidden beneath vast posters, setting forth the merits of the rival parties. The Association of Jam-Dealers held a private meeting last night. I was, however, enabled to be present having disguised myself as Mr. BLACKFORD, one of the Vice-Presidents of the Association, who was taken ill at the last moment, and whose letter of excuse for non-attendance I managed to intercept. The proceedings opened with prayer, on the model of the recent Ulster Convention. After this, the discussion began. A series of questions had, it appears, been addressed to both Candidates. Here they are:--

(1) Will you oppose any attempt to increase the import of foreign jam-stuffs?

(2) Will you support a measure making it compulsory for the London Cooperative Stores to sell only Jam manufactured by the Bunkham Jam-Dealers' Association?

(3) Will you oppose any measure calculated to deprive the rising generation of one of the necessaries of life in the shape of Bunkham Jam? And will you therefore oppose, by all lawful Parliamentary means, the use of the domestic rod as a punishment for so-called Jam-stealing out of store-room cupboards?

(4) Which do you prefer, gooseberries, raspberries, or strawberries?

(5) Will you advocate a tax of twopence per pot on all jam not manufactured in the Bunkham district?

Both Candidates had sent written replies. But it was generally felt that on the answers to the fourth question, the vote of the meeting would depend. Bunkham is a district in which raspberries and gooseberries are almost exclusively grown. Now it is well-known that Mr. PLEDGER, the Liberal Candidate, has an almost passionate affection for strawberry-jam, and much interest was shown as to whether he would be true to his favourite food, or renounce it in order to capture votes. I am glad to say that the honourable gentleman refused to palter with his convictions. In a manly and straightforward answer, he declined to be a party to "a system of espionage which had invaded the breakfast table, and might go far to make even luncheon intolerable."

"From my youth up," he continued, "I have never wavered in the conviction, that of all known preserves, strawberry-jam is both the best, and the most sustaining. I should disgrace myself if I were now, at the eleventh hour, to declare a preference which I do not honestly feel for gooseberry or raspberry."

This, of course, settled the matter. Mr. TUFFAN declared emphatically against the obnoxious strawberry; and the result was that the Association, by an enormous majority, decided to support him. The Liberals were at first much discouraged, but they have now taken heart again. One of their Canvassers, it seems, has succeeded in making himself a _persona grata_ to a lady who occupies the position of under-housemaid in the establishment of the TUFFANS. Through her he obtained an empty pot of strawberry-jam, lately consumed by the TUFFAN family. This has been fixed upon a long pole, with a placard underneath it, to the following effect:--

TAKEN FROM TUFFAN'S TABLE!

VOTE FOR PLEDGER, AND HONEST CONVICTIONS!

And the device is now being carried all over the Town by the Junior Liberal Association.

The polling takes place to-morrow. Both sides are confident, but, on the whole, after reviewing all the circumstances of the case as impartially as possible, taking into account everything that tells for or against both parties, and not forgetting the effect produced by the public secession of Mr. HONEYDEW, the tobacconist, and Ex-President of the Liberal 500, I am disposed to believe in the victory of Mr. PLEDGER; that is to say, unless Mr. TUFFAN should manage to secure a sufficient number of votes to defeat his opponent.

Yours &c., THE MAN IN THE MOON.

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MR. PUNCH'S ELECTION ADDRESS.

To the Electors of the United Kingdom! I, PUNCH, who shoot at follies, and have wing'd 'em For fifty years, and shall for fifty more, Greet ye! It were to force an open door To ask ye one and all, to give your votes To ME! There, there, my boys! don't strain your throats! My tympanum is tender. _Punch_ rejoices To listen once more to "your most sweet voices," Only you need not howl and make them raucous. I'm not a Party Nominee, no Caucus Has wire-pulled Me! I'd like to see 'em do so! I am _Man Friday_ to no party _Crusoe_, SALISBURY, GLADSTONE, BALFOUR, HARCOURT, GOSCHEN, Are all on my Committee. MORLEY's notion (Shared for the nonce by JOE the shrewd and able), Is, that it's safe to sit at _my_ Round Table, Where they all hob-a-nob as friends, not foes! E'en the MACULLUM MORE cocks not his nose Too high in _Punch's_ presence; he knows better! Supremacy unchallenged is a fetter E'en to patrician pride, provincial vanity; Scot modesty, and Birmingham urbanity, Bow at my shrine, because they can't resist. Thus I'm the only genuine Unionist, While all the same, my British Public _you_'ll err, If you conceive I'm not a firm Home-Ruler. Perpend! There's sense and truth in my suggestions, And therefore, do not ask superfluous questions. You might as fitly paint Dame Venus freckled, As fancy _Punch_ will stoop to being "heckled." I have no "Programmes," I. My wit's too wide To a wire-puller's "platform" to be tied. I know what's right, I mean to see it done, And for the rest good-tempered chaff and fun Are my pet "principles"--till fools grow rash From toleration, _then_ they feel the lash. I am a sage, and not a prig or pump, Therefore I never canvas, spout or stump, I'm Liberal--as the sunlight--of all Good, Which to Conserve I strive--that's understood, But Tory nincompoop, or rowdy Rad, The thrall of bigotry, the fool of fad I hate alike. There's the straight tip, my bloaters! Now run and vote for _Punch_--all who are voters; And if some few have not that boon indeed, Well those who cannot run at least can _read_. There! that's enough, my lads! I'm off to lunch, You, go and do your duty; plump for PUNCH!!!

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OTHERWISE ENGAGED!

(_A SENTIMENTAL FRAGMENT FROM HENLEY._)

And so they sat in the boat and looked into one another's eyes, and found much to read in them. They ignored the presence of the houseboats, and scarcely remembered that there were such things as launches propelled by steam or electricity. And they turned deaf ears to the niggers, and did not want their fortunes told by dirty females of a gipsy type.

"This is very pleasant," said EDWIN.

"Isn't it?" replied ANGELINA; "and it's such a good place for seeing all the events."

"Admirable!" and they talked of other things; and the time sped on, and the dark shadows grew, and still they talked, and talked, and talked.

At length the lanterns on the river began to glow, and Henley put on its best appearance, and broke out violently into fireworks, it was then Mrs. GRUNDY spied them out. She had been on the look out for scandal all day long, but could find none. This seemed a pleasant and promising case.

"So you are here?" she exclaimed. "Why, we thought you must have gone long ago! And what do you say of the meeting?"

"A most perfect success," said he.

"And the company?"

"Could not be more charming," was her reply.

"And what did you think of the racing?" Then they looked at one another and smiled. They spoke together, and observed:--

"Oh, we did not think of the racing!"

And Mrs. GRUNDY was not altogether satisfied.

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MEM. BY "ONE WHO MARRIED IN HASTE."--"The real 'Battle of Life' begins with a short engagement."

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LADY GAY'S SELECTIONS.

_The Look-out, Sheepsdoor, Kent._

DEAR MR. PUNCH,

My rest at the seaside has done me such a world of good that I feel more lazy than ever! But I fear I am in danger of a relapse into excitement, owing to a letter I received a few days ago from an old military friend of mine, General ELECTION, in which he asks me to lend my _invaluable_ assistance in "canvassing" for his nephew, the Hon. CHARLIE HULLOTHERE, who is standing for Sheepsdoor.--Ah, how little did I think that my reference to "canvas" shoes in my last letter would be so prophetic! The General is very gallant, and fully appreciates the usefulness of women in canvassing; and, in order to be quite "up to date," I have ordered in a large supply of gingerbread-nuts and oyster-shells, which I observe (see daily papers) are distributed as marks of respect among Candidates and their wives!

Having also heard that a Brass Band is indispensable (the more brass it is, the better), I have made friendly overtures (_musical_, of course) to the Sheepsdoor Purveyors of Brassharmony, with the flattering result that they now conclude every performance with my specially composed "_Election War Cry_"--the refrain of which is most effective when given by a chorus of trained Constituents!--

HullLo-there! HullLo-there! He's the man for us;

We respect him! We'll elect him! And we might do wuss!!

In fact, our Candidate is very popular, and is sure to "romp in an easy winner"--which is another puzzling racing expression, as, although I've seen plenty of horses indulge in a game of romps before the start (notably, _L'Abbé Morin_, in the "City"), they seem to have had more than enough of it before the finish!

I hear from Newmarket, that I missed an extremely pleasant week's racing--and although my selection for the Stud Produce Stakes was rather wide of the mark, I fairly hit the bullseye--(what a painful operation this must be for the bull)--in my one "_Song from the Birdcage_," which I warbled in the ear of a racing friend whom I met down here; it was _à propos_ of the July Stakes and ran thus:--

The night was dark when "_Portland Bill_" escaped by Chesil Beach! And hope beat high within his heart, that he the goal might reach! For "_Milford_" Haven lies in sight!--one effort and he's there! But see!--At last--he's caught!--he's passed!--just by the Judge's Chair!

Which really remarkable prophecy was fully borne out by the race, in fact, so close a description might almost have been written _after the race_--a great compliment to my powers of divination!

Next week takes us to Bibury and Stockbridge. and if this hot weather continues, the motto of the Club should be, "_Dum vivo Bibere_"--or, freely translated--"_Half_ the soda, please!" The race to which I propose to give my attention is the Alington Plate, and as I am nothing if not thorough, you will see that my tip is influenced by my being at the Seaside?

Yours devotedly, LADY GAY.

ALINGTON PLATE SELECTION.

The storm was raging through the night, I tossed upon my pillow, And pitied any luckless wight Who tossed upon the "_Billow_!"

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A SLIGHT MUDDLE.--"I hear," said Mrs. R., "that the Cassocks are performing at the Buffalo Bill place--though not knowing the gentleman personally, I would prefer calling him BUFFALO WILLIAM or WILLIAM BUFFELLOW, which would be a less outlandish name--and I confess I was astonished, as I always thought that Cassocks were Clergymen, or had something to do with the Clergy. I suppose I had connected them with Hassocks, which are always in Church, and were, I believe, invented by Mr. HASSOCK, or Squire HASSOCK, who made all his money by keeping a gate on the old Brighton Coach Road. The station is still called Hassock's Gate, in his memory. HER MAJESTY had all the Cassocks sent down to her at Windsor. They must have been quite worn out by the end of the day."

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OPERATIC NOTES.

_Monday.--Lohengrin._ House full to hear Brother JOHN and Madame MELBA. "Please, Sir, Mr. JOHNNIE DE RISKY ain't here," blurts out the pale and trembling call-boy.

Sir AUGUSTUS calm, impassible. Crisis. If no one turned up, he would act the part himself, and, it being Wagnerian music, the orchestra would play what of the part had to be played. At that moment lounged in Monsieur VAN DYCK, just to see how things were going on without him. "I'm a little hoarse to-night," quoth VAN DYCK, pleasantly. "Nonsense!" cries Sir DRURIOLANUS, cheerily, "a '_Van_' can never be a little hoarse." Much merriment. "DYCK, my boy," continues Sir D., "you've come in the very nick of time--quite a Devil's Dyke, you are,"--the accomplished vocalist was in ecstasies at his Manager's joke,--"and you shall distinguish yourself to-night as _Lohengrin_!" Oh, what a surprise! No sooner said than done. Armour for one ordered immediately. ISAAC of York Street goes to work, and--presto!--VAN DYCK is "ready in case." "Now," asks DRURIOLANUS, "what are we waiting for?"

"Please, Sir, Madame MELBA isn't here!"

"MELBA not here to play _Elsa_!" exclaims Sir DRURIOLANUS, immediately adding, with that wit which is always, like the British Tar, 'Ready, aye ready!'--"then we must get somebody Else Sir!" and scarcely had the words escaped his lips, than Madame NORDICA, who happened to be passing by, sang out in an extempore recitative, "_Me voici!_" "_Bravissima!_" cried Sir DRURIOLANUS. "Saved! Saved!" General dance of joy.

So the Curtain was rung up, and the Opera, with Madame NORDICA (_vice_ MELBA) as _Elsa_, and VAN DYCK (_vice_ Little JOHNNIE THE RISKY) as _Lohengrin_, made a big success. House crowded. All's well that ends as well as this.

_Tuesday with Mozart._--What a good starting idea for a Comic Opera would be the notion of making those two types of knaves, _Leporello_ and _Figaro_, meet as counter-plotters. Monsieur MAUREL suggests a step in this direction, when one night he impersonates the gay Spanish Don, and on another he appears as the roguish Italian barber, no longer an intriguing bachelor but a jealous bridegroom. Merry Melodious MOZART! Old-fashioned he may be, like not a few of the best melodies and the best stories. Elegant Countess is Madame EMMA EAMES. Can she possibly ever have been _Rosina_, _Dr. Bartolo's_ tricky ward! What a change matrimony makes in some folks! Old _Dr. Bartolo_ bears not much resemblance to the other _Dr. Bartolo_, and _Don Basilio_, a kind of Ecclesiastical lawyer, is quite a rollicking wag as compared with the _Basilio_ of the Barber of Seville. Nothing could be better than the _Susanna_ of Mlle. TELEKI, or sweeter than the duet, heartily encored, between her and the _Countess_. EDOUARD DE RESZKÉ is a magnificent representative of the gloomily-jealous Count, who, having once been the gayest of the gay, still retains something of his old sly-boots character in private. He is always going wrong, and always being in the wrong when found out: a Count quite at a discount, for whom there will perhaps be no rest until he is "par." with a family. Needless to say, the part was well acted and sung by Brother NED, whom a gentleman near me, who "knew all about it," mistook for his brother JOHN, and criticised accordingly. As _Cherubino_, Mlle. SIGRID ARNOLDSON is a delightfully boyish scapegrace, giving us just that _soupçon_ of natural awkwardness which a spoilt sunny Southern lad of sixteen, brought up in such mixed society as is represented by _Count Almaviva's_ household, would occasionally show when more than usually "spoony." Mlle. ARNOLDSON sings MOZART pure and simple, without interpolating cadenzas, roulades, nourishes, or exercises of musical fireworks, and the audience rewarded her artistically simple rendering of "_Voi che sapete_" with an _encore_, which was as hearty as it was well-deserved. Capital House. Parliamentary musicians conspicuous by their absence. Ex-M.P.'s represented in a body by Sir H-NRY EDW-RDS the evergreen.

It was reported in the House--the Opera House--that Sir DRURIOLANUS was standing; but for what Constituency, was not mentioned. The rumour was justified by his appearing at the Stall entrance, where he stood for some time, but as he finely observed, "I am not in search of a seat--in Parliament. No! Let who will make the people's laws, give me the bringing out for them of their Operas and Pantomimes." So saying, he bowed gracefully to nobody in particular (who happened to be talking to him), and, with a refreshing wave of the hand, Sir DRURIOLANUS was wafted away into the offing, and "lost to sight," while still "to memory dear."

_Trumpet Note in advance._--_The Trompeter of Sakkingen_ is announced as "in active preparation." Needless to say more, as, of course, he blows his own trumpet for himself. The question is, will it be a big trump in the hand of Sir DRURIOLANUS?

_Saturday._--_Elaine_ changed her mind, and wouldn't come out to-night.

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NEW RENDERING OF "CONSULE PLANCO"--"CONSULT PLANCHETTE."--If "Planchette" can give such accurate information as it appears to have done at Mr. CHARLES WYNDHAM's supper-party, and elsewhere, as recounted in the _Daily Telegraph_, why is it not at once put into general requisition? Why is there any Parliamentary debating? Why not use "Planchette?" Why run any chance of losing on a race, but simply "ask Planchette?" Only, by the way, if this were universal, and if everyone is to win, who is to lose? Thus Planchette would put an end to nearly all speculation. Planchette would inaugurate a new era of complete and unqualified success. No doubt Mr. CHARLES WYNDHAM consulted Planchette before producing _The Fringe of Society_, and is in consequence being amply rewarded for placing his trust in Planchette. Failure would be impossible except to the obstinate few who should persistently refuse to pin their faith on the utterances of "Planchette." But, suppose after doing enough to establish her reputation, "Planchette," being feminine and therefore "_varium et mutabile semper_," should suddenly deceive her followers, as did _Zamiel's_ seventh charmed bullet (which ought always to have been kept up _Caspar's_ sleeve--but _Caspar_ was an idiot), and the Weird but Larky Sisters who captivated _Macbeth_?

"Trust her not, she's fooling thee, Beware! Beware!" and Planchette, the little plank, will make more of her followers "plank down" than pick up gold and silver.

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"DEAREST CHUCK!"--_SHAKSPEARE._

"_Mr. G._" (_to the Ardent Female Supporter, henceforth to be historically known as "The Gingerbread-nut-Chucker"_):--

'Twas all very well to dissemble your love, But why chuck the nut in my eye?

[_Mr. G. is aware that the Divine WILLIAMS has spoken of ginger as "hot in the mouth," but Mr. G. says "he got it uncommonly hot in the eye."_]

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"THE RETURN OF THE PRODIGAL."--Lord RANDOLPH in again for South Paddington. The First to arrive.