Chapter 2

forget his anxiety about his daughter--who he fears, with only too much reason, has come to an untimely end--by going to sleep in a highly uncomfortable position on a kitchen-chair. The Murder is re-enacted in a vision, in dumb-show. The form of MARIA appears in the tweed suit, and urges him to search for her remains in the Red Barn._

_Old Martin_ (_awaking_). I have 'ad a fearful dream, and I am under the impression that MARIA has been foully murdered in the Red Barn.

[_He calls the Comic Countryman to help him "to commence a thorough investigation"--which he does, in a spirit of rollicking fun befitting the occasion, as the Scene changes to the Red Barn._

_Old M._ (_finding the spade_). What's this? A spade--and, by its appearance, it 'as recently been used, for there are marks of blood upon it! I now begin to be afraid my dream will come true.

[_Roars of laughter when the Comic C. discovers the body, and implores it to "say summat!" Change of Scene. WILLIAM CORDER discovered At Home, in a long perspective of pillars and curtains, ending in a lawn and fountain._

_William_ (_moodily_). 'Tis now exactly twelve months since MARIA MARTIN was done to death by these 'ands. Since then, I have married a young, rich, and beautiful wife--and yet I am not 'appy.

[_Enter Old MARTIN, who, by the simple method of changing his hat and coat, has now become a Bow-street Officer; he puts questions to WILLIAM, who at once betrays himself, and has to be searched. As a pair of pistols exactly resembling one that was left in the Red Barn, are found in his coat-tail pockets; his guilt is conclusively proved, and he is led away. The next Scene shows him in the Condemned Cell, resolving to sleep away his few remaining hours on a kitchen-chair. He has a vision of MARIA in tweeds, who exhorts him to repent_. Old MARTIN, _who is now either the Governor of the Gaol or the Hangman, enters to conduct him to the scaffold, and on the way he is met--to the joy of the Audience--by the Comic, C., who duns him for the ninepence. WILLIAM shakes his head solemnly, points to the skies, and passes on. The Comic C. then goes to sleep in a chair and has a vision on his own account, in which he beholds the apotheosis of MARIA--still in the suit of dittoes--and piloted by a couple of obviously overweighted Angels; and also the last moments of WILLIAM CORDER, who, as he stands under an enlarged "Punch" gibbet, pronounces the following impressive farewell before disappearing through a trap._

Ye Youth, be warned by my Despair! Avoid bad women, false as they are fair. (_This is just a little hard on poor MARIA by-the-way._) Be wise in time, if you would shun my fate, For oh! how wretched is the man who's wise too late!

[_And with this the Drama comes to an end, and the Comic Countryman begs the Audience to give the performance a good word to their friends outside._

* * * * *

BETWEEN THE ACTS; OR, THE DRAMA IN LIQUOR.

SCENE--_Refreshment Saloon at a London Theatre. A three-play bill forms the evening's entertainment. First Act over. Enter BROWN, JONES, and ROBINSON._

_Brown_. Well, really a very pleasant little piece. Quite amusing. Yes; I think I will have a cup of coffee or a glass of lemonade. Too soon after dinner for anything stronger.

_Jones_. Yes, and really, after laughing so much, one gets a thirst for what they call light refreshments. I will have some ginger-beer.

_Robinson_. Well, I think I will stick to iced-water. You know the Americans are very fond of that. They always take it at meal-times, and really after that capital _équivoque_ one feels quite satisfied. (_They are served by the Bar Attendant._) That was really very funny, where he hides behind the door when she is not looking.

[_Laughs at the recollection._

_Brown_. And when the uncle sits down upon the band-box and crushes the canary-cage! [_Chuckles._

_Jones_. Most clever. But there goes the bell, and the Curtain will be up directly. Rather clever, I am told. The _Rose of Rouen_--it is founded on the life of _Joan of Arc_. I am rather fond of these historical studies.

_Brown_. So am I. They are very interesting.

_Robinson_. Do you think so? Well, so far as I am concerned, I prefer Melodrama. Judging from the title, _The Gory Hand_ should be uncommonly good.

[_Exeunt into Theatre. After a pause they return to the Refreshment Room._

_Brown_. Well, it is very clever; but I confess it beats me. (_To Bar Attendant._) We will all take soda-water. No, thanks, quite neat, and for these gentlemen too.

_Jones_. Well, I call it a most excellent psychological study. However, wants a clear head to understand it. (_Sips his soda-water._) I don't see how she can take the flag from the Bishop, and yet want to marry the Englishman.

_Robinson_. Ah, but that was before the vision. If you think it over carefully, you will see it was natural enough. Of course, you must allow for the spirit of the period, and other surrounding circumstances.

_Brown_. Are you going to stay for _The Gory Hand_?

_Jones_. Not I. I am tired of play-acting, and think we have had enough of it.

_Robinson_. Well, I think I shall look in. I am rather fond of strong scenes, and it should be good, to judge from the programme.

_Jones_. Well, we will "sit out." It's rather gruesome. Quite different from the other plays.

_Robinson_. Well, I don't mind horrors--in fact, like them. There goes the bell. So I am off. Wait until I come back.

_Brown_. That depends how long you are away. Ta, ta!

[_Exit ROBINSON._

_Jones_. Now, how a fellow can enjoy a piece like that, I cannot understand. It is full of murders, from the rise to the fall of the Curtain.

_Brown_. Yes--but ROBINSON likes that sort of thing. You will see by-and-by how the plot will affect him. It is rather jumpy, especially at the end, when the severed head tells the story of the murder to the assistant executioner. I would not see it again on any account.

_Jones_. No--it sent my Maiden Aunt in hysterics. However, it has the merit of being short. (_Applause._) Ah, there it's over! Let's see how ROBINSON likes it. That _tableau_ at the end, of the starving-coastguardsman expiring under the rack, is perfectly awful! (_Enter ROBINSON, staggering in._) Why, my boy, what's the matter?

_Brown_. You do look scared! Have something to drink? That will set it all to-rights!

_Robinson_ (_with his eyes protruding from his head, from horror_). Here, help! help! (_After a long shudder._) Brandy! Brandy I: Brandy!

[_At all the places at the bar there is a general demand for alcohol._

_Brown_. Yes. IRVING was right; soda-water does very well for SHAKSPEARE's histories, but when you come to a piece like _The Bells_, you require supporting. [_Curtain and moral._

* * * * *

"IN A WINTER (COVENT) GARDEN."

That indefatigable Showman, Sir DRURIOLANUS, the Invincible Knight, commenced his Winter Operatic Season on Monday, the Tenth, at Covent Garden, so as to be well in advance of Signor LAGO, who may now boast of having _La Donna_, Her Most Gracious MAJESTY, for his patron.

_Monday Night_.--The two RAVOGLIS in good form in the _Orféo._ Likewise the Player of the Big Drum made more than one big hit during the evening. "_Che farò_" was re-demanded. "Tired of '_Faro_,'" quoth Mr. WAGGSTAFF--"why not make it '_Whisto_,' or some other game?" _Exit_ WAGGY. The _Intermezzo_ of _Cavalleria Rusticana_ of course encored enthusiastically. "Signor CREMONNINI," quoth WAGG, returning, "is not half the 'ninny' his name implies." And, indeed, from the moment he was heard singing "in his ambush" (as the Irish boy in the Gallery said of TOM HOHLER at the Dublin Theatre when he heard the _Trovatore's_ voice behind the scenes) before the rise of the Curtain, everyone said, "This is the tenner for our money."

_Tuesday_.--The namesake of our own GEORGE AUGUSTUS, Mlle. ROSITA SALA, made a real hit as _Leonora_ in _Il Trovatore_. "Handsome is as handsome does," and Mlle. SALA didn't act as "handsome" as she looked. Another "ninny" played to-night, namely GIANNINNI, all right vocally, but not much dramatically. "_Il Balen_" was encored when sung by a manly baritone with the feminine name of ANNA; i.e., Signor DE ANNA. He might advantageously alter DE-ANNA to APOLLO, that is if he could be sure of looking the part.

_Wednesday_.--_Lohengrin_. MELBA as _Elsa_. WAGGSTAFF tried to make his usual pun on the name of _Ortruda_, but was "countered" by Young JUMPER who protested that he had heard it before and never wanted to hear it again. "I know what you're going to say," he exclaimed; "it's something about '_aught ruder_!' I know!" "I've no doubt you do," returned the defrauded WAGGY, sarcastically, "for you're uncommonly like _Othello_, 'Rude am I in speech'--only," added WAGGSTAFF, "_he_ apologised for it." Young JUMPER sniggered, his friends laughed, and the incident terminated. The Chorus seemed to have become Wandering Minstrels, so very uncertain were they.

Altogether, Sir DRURIOLANUS OPERATICUS, with his successful Drury Lane Race-course, his Provincial Theatre, his Italian Opera, his Paper (not _in_ the House, but his weekly one out of it), his Music-of-the-Future Hall, for which a temporary and limited licence has been granted, will--in a general-dealer kind of way--be having a good time of it till Pantomime Season slaps him on the back with a cheery "Here we are again!" and then he will have another and a better time. No doubt of Sir Gus's success, or in abbreviated proverbial Latin, "_De Gus. non disputandum_."

* * * * *

* * * * *

COLUMBUS.

COLUMBUS! We read of him every day, In books, pamphlets, magazines, papers; Whilst Italy, Portugal, Spain, U.S.A., Cut constant, consecutive capers.

They started last month with reviews on the main; On the land with processions--a quaint row. Such the fêtes, aptly called by the French "_Fêtes de Gènes_," _Fait accompli_, good luck, _ça nous gêne trop!_

But never say die; now Huelva goes on, New York follows, steady and sober, And Chicago makes ready for more derned, dog gone _Fêtes_ to last till, at least, next October!

COLUMBUS, your search for a sort of New Cut Was meant for the best, we don't doubt it; No harm in discovering Continents, but You might have said nothing about it.

Still, had you not found a location for clam, Canvas back, buckwheat cakes, we should sorter Have missed the acquaintance of 'cute Uncle SAM, And his fearless, free, fragile, fair daughter.

COLUMBUS! The newspapers never will drop This subject; we wish, as months roll on, Some common bacillus had put a full stop Long ago to Don CHRISTOBAL COLON!

* * * * *

"ANECDOTAGE."

_COMPANION PARAGRAPHS TO STORIES OF THE SAME KIND._

SIR WALTER SCOTT was never so well pleased as when meeting a brother author. One day he passed by a gauger, who was so careless in his duties that the author of _Waverley_ was able to smuggle into Edinburgh some whiskey that was supposed never to have paid duty. On reaching Abbotsford, "the Wizard of the North" was informed that he had met one of the greatest poets of North Britain. "So I suspected," he replied. "It must have been BURNS." Sir WALTER was right--it _was_ BURNS.

* * * * *

PITT, the younger, and FOX were both fond of port wine, and lost no opportunity of indulging in their favourite beverage. Meeting at CROCKFORD's one evening, PITT (being in straitened circumstances) proposed that they should play for a bottle of sherry. "No," said FOX, "if I must lose, I will lose in Claret!" and the rival Statesmen succumbed to intoxication.

* * * * *

WILBERFORCE, the well-known philanthropist, was accustomed to visit the prisons. At Newgate one day he met a well-known forger, and asked him "What he was in for?" "For the same reason that you are out," was the smart, but uncourteous reply.

* * * * *

NEW REGULATIONS FOR THE ENGLISH POLICE.

(_FREELY ADAPTED FROM THE IRISH RULES._)

1. Constables who are required to interfere in a street-row must have fourteen days' notice before they can be expected on the spot of the disturbance.

2. Policemen will parade the streets from 12 A.M. to 4 P.M., but will make themselves scarce in the event of meeting a party procession, or noticing the holding of a public demonstration.

3. Hyde Park, Trafalgar Square, and all other fashionable trysting-places, shall be considered without the sphere of Police influence at times of political excitement.

4. Constables shall not congregate on land set apart for workmen's gatherings, except to organise strikes amongst themselves.

5. The labours of the Police shall not commence before sunrise, or continue after sunset; and it will be left to the sagacity of the Public to guard their own property during the hours that the Constables are off duty.

6. In the absence of the Civil Power, it will be considered contrary to professional etiquette for any respectable member of the criminal classes to carry on his unimpeded vocation.

* * * * *

* * * * *

THE GREAT UNKNOWN.

[The Rev. Dr. SMYTHE PALMER, of Trinity College, Dublin, has just compiled a Book of Extracts, entitled _The Perfect Gentleman_.]

A Gentleman must be liberal, not to say lavish, to servants, porters, gamekeepers, and others, or he is "no gent." At the same time the Perfect Gentleman is never extravagant.

He must not work. At the same time he must not be an idler.

He is known by his scrupulous attention to the minutiæ of personal appearance, while "despising all outside show."

The Perfect Gentleman "never wilfully hurts anybody." No soldier, doctor, or schoolmaster can, therefore, ever be a P.G.

He is always perfectly open and frank. He is also sufficiently artful to conceal the fact that he considers the person he is talking to a mixture of a snob and a blockhead.

When his favourite corn is trodden on by a weighty stranger, he never utters any expression stronger than "Dear me!"

He never loses his temper.

He must know how to treat everyone according to their rank and situation in life, but show special courtesy to those who are his inferiors.

He must be well-born, although there are plenty of "Nature's Gentlemen" in the ranks of day-labourers.

He must be sufficiently wealthy to keep up a good position, while recognising the fact that money has nothing to do with true gentility.

He should also try and remember that no such jumble of contradictions as the Perfect Gentleman ever existed.

* * * * *

* * * * *

EPIGRAMMATICALLY PUT.--An Asylums Board Manager wrote to the _Times_ to complain of Mr. LITTLER, M.P., Q.C.'s charges against the Asylums and Fever Hospitals management. "Which is right, or which is wrong," to paraphrase _Mr. Mantalini's_ words, is no business just now of ours, but the writer of the reply to the attack, might have summed up by saying "that to _him_, Mr. LITTLER, whatever his Christian names might be, appeared as a _Be-Littler_."

* * * * *

"MR. GLADSTONE ON RENTS IN WALES."--What the Right Honble. Mr. G. omitted to say, when speaking on this subject, was that "but a comparatively small rent in Wales would be produced by Disestablishment, whenever that event should happen, and that this would soon be mended."

* * * * *

TEMPERANCE RIDDLE.--Why is a man who is thoroughly good-natured and ever ready to oblige, likely to end as a confirmed drunkard? Because he is always _willing_.

* * * * *

A USEFUL EXPERIENCE.

I awoke at one in the morning, I had been two hours in bed, When--bang!--without any warning A joke came into my head. 'Twas brilliant, awfully funny, It flashed through my drowsy brain, It was worth--oh, a lot of money!-- I chuckled again and again.

I thought how I might employ it, I laughed till the tears rolled down, Foreseeing how SMITH would enjoy it, And how it would tickle BROWN. I said, "I had best but hint it To _them_, or they might purloin This wonderful jest, then print it, And between them divide the coin."

Late in the morn I awoke,--I Puzzled with all my might In vain to recall the joke I Made in the silent night. What _was_ it about? No dreamer Am I! No--I think--I frown-- When next I make a screamer In bed--_I will write it down_.

By the side of the bed a taper Shall ever with matches be, A pencil and piece of paper, To note what occurs to me. * * * * * Since then I have tried, but the late joke, As seen in my bedside scrawl, Is always so poor,--that the great joke, _I'm sure, was no joke at all!_

* * * * *

YES OR NO?

["The hand-writing of well-educated Ladies is often disgracefully illegible."--_A Ladies' Journal_.]

Oh, never did lover in fable In such a predicament stand, A letter I wrote to my MABEL, To ask for her heart and her hand, With compliments worded so nicely, A lifelong devotion I swore; She's answered--and left me precisely As wise as before!

It is true that I begged, when inditing My note, a reply with all speed, And MABEL, to judge from the writing, Fulfilled my petition indeed! The drift of this scrawl, so erratic, I am wholly unable to guess-- It may be refusal emphatic, Or can it be "Yes"?

"Affection" she'll feel for me "ever," But stay--if that blot is an "_n_" It turns it at once into "never," Or is it a slip of the pen? Her heart will a "truant (or true?) be," And what is the word just above? It looks like--it cannot be--"booby"! Perhaps it is "love."

A meeting must needs be awaited To render these mysteries plain; Perhaps in this letter she's stated She never will see me again; On one thing at least I've decided;-- Should she be my partner for life, A type-writer shall be provided For the use of my wife!

* * * * *

THE GERMAN AND HORSE-TRYING RIDE.

["Most of the horses were standing, but propping themselves up against a wall or a post."--_Standard, Wednesday, October 12th_.]

Pity the sorrows of a worn-out horse, Whose trembling limbs support him 'gainst a wall; Who asks you,--fearing future trials worse-- To kill him with a sudden shot,--that's all.

* * * * *

A CORRESPONDENT signing "INNOCENTIA DOCET," wants to know if "the Hub of the Universe" is an official appointment that can only be held by a Mahommedan or a Mormon?

* * * * *

CONVERSATIONAL HINTS TO YOUNG SHOOTERS.

(_BY MR. PUNCH'S OWN GROUSE IN THE GUN-ROOM._)

And, next, my gallant young Sportsmen, just sharpen up your attention, and, if you have ears, prepare to lend them now. Be, in fact, all ears. At any rate, get yourselves as near as possible to that desirable condition, for we are going to discuss shooting-lunches, and all that pertains to them. Think of it! Are not some of your happiest memories, and your most delightful anticipations, bound up with the mid-day meal, at which the anxieties and disappointments of the morning, the birds you missed, the birds that, though they got up in front of you, were shot by your jealous neighbour, the wiped-eyes, the hands torn in the thorn-bushes, at which, as I say, all these are forgotten, when you lay aside your gun, and sit down to your short repose. Then it is that the talker shines supreme. All the conversation which may have been broken in upon during the morning by the necessity for posting yourself at the hot corner, or the grassy ride, or in the butt, or for polishing off a right and left of partridges, can then flow free and uninterrupted. Ah, happy moments, when the bad shot becomes as the good, and all distinctions are levelled! How well, how gratefully do I remember you! Still, in my waking fancies, there rises to my nose a savoury odour, telling of stew or hot-pot, and still the crisp succulence of the jam tartlet has honour in my memory. Ah, _tempi passati, tempi passati_! But away, fancy, and to our work, which is to speak of

SHOOTING-LUNCHES

in their relation to talk:--

(1.) Be extremely careful, unless you know exactly the ways of your host with regard to his shooting-lunch, not to express to him before lunch any very definite opinion as to what the best kind of lunch is. If, for instance, you rashly declare that, for your own part, you detest a solemn sit-down-in-a-farmhouse lunch, and that your ideal is a sandwich, a biscuit and a nip out of a flask, and if you then find yourself lunching off three courses at a comfortable table, why you'll be in a bit of a hole. Consistency would prompt you to abstain, appetite urges you to eat. What is a poor talker to do? Obviously, he must get out somehow. Here is a suggested method. Begin by admiring the room.

"By Jove, what a jolly little room this is. It's as spick and span as a model dairy. I wish you'd take me on as your tenant, CHALMERS, when you've got a vacancy."

CHALMERS will say, "It's not a bad little hole. Old Mrs. NUBBLES keeps things wonderfully spruce. This is one of the cottages I built five years ago."

There's your first move. Your next is as follows. Every rustic-cottage contains gruesome china-ornaments and excruciating-cheap German-prints of such subjects as "_The Tryst_" (always spelt "_The Trist_" on the German print), "_The Saylor's Return," "The Warior's Dreem_," "_Napoleon at Arcola_," and so forth. Point to a china-ornament and say, "I never knew cows in this part of the country were blue and green." Then after you've exhausted the cow, milked her dry, so to speak, you can take a turn at the engravings, and make a sly hit at the taste in art generated by modern education. Hereupon, someone is dead certain to chime in with the veteran grumble about farmers who educate their children above their station by allowing their daughters to learn to play the piano, and their sons to acquire the rudiments of Latin: "Give you my word of honour, the farmers' daughters about my uncle's place, get their dresses made by my aunt's dressmaker, and thump out old WAGNER all day long." This horrible picture of rural depravity will cause an animated discussion. When it is over, you can say, "This is the very best Irish-stew I've ever tasted. I must get your cook to give me the receipt."

"Ah, my boy," says CHALMERS, "you'll find there's nothing like a stew out shooting."

"Of course," you say, "nothing can beat it, if you've got a nice room to eat it in, and aren't pressed for time; but, if you've got no end of ground to cover, and not much time to do it in, I can always manage to do myself on a scrap of anything handy. Thanks, I don't mind if I do have a chunk of cake, and a whitewash of sherry."

Thus you have fetched a compass--I fancy the phrase is correct--and have wiped out the memory of your indiscretion. Of course the thing may happen the other way round. You may have expressed a preference for solid lunches, only to find yourself set down on a tuft of grass, with a beef sandwich and a digestive biscuit. In that case you can begin by declaring your delight in an open-air meal, go on to admire the scenery, and end by expressing a certain amount of judicious contempt for the Sybarite who cannot tear himself away from effeminate luxuries, and the trick's done.

But this subject is so great, and has so many varieties, that we must recur to it in our next.

* * * * *

* * * * *

TO OUR GUERNSEY CORRESPONDENTS.

MR. PUNCH is sorry to find that his fancy sketch of a Guernsey Car drive has been taken so seriously in some quarters as to give pain and offence which were very far from being intended. He begs to assure the honourable fraternity of Car-proprietors and drivers in the island, that he did _not_ mean to suggest for a moment that there was the slightest real danger to the public who patronise those highly popular and excellently-conducted vehicles, or that any actual driver was either intemperate or incompetent; and that, should such an impression have been unfortunately produced--which he hopes is impossible--no one would regret so unjust an aspersion more sincerely than _Mr. Punch_ himself.

* * * * *

* * * * *

LADY GAY'S SELECTIONS.

_Mount Street, Grosvenor Square._

DEAR MR. PUNCH,--Your marvellous judgment in the selection of your "staff"--(I believe that is the correct term to use in speaking of those who write for the paper, though as a rule a staff is _wooden-headed_, which I am sure none of your contributors are!--I can answer for _one_!)--has again placed you in the position envied of all Journals, viz.,--(_why_ do people put "viz.," and not "namely"?--it _is_ silly!) that of affording "information" given by no other Journal! All of which preamble means,--(by the way, why "pre-_amble_"?--if one is a speedy writer, why not "pre-_canter_"?)--that _Punch_, in the person of LADY GAY--(that _may_ seem a little mixed, but it isn't)--was the _only_ Sporting Paper which tipped the winner of the Cesarewitch!

For confirmation of this I refer the sceptical to my last week's letter, in which I stated that in dreaming of the race I dreamt that "_Burnaby came to the rescue_"--and if this is not giving the winner, I should like to know what is! It is true I made _Brandy_ my "verse selection," but that would only mislead the people who go no further than the surface (not of the brandy), as anyone who gave the matter a moment's thought would realise that Brandy is always applied _after_ a rescue! I hear there was a "ton of money" for the winner just before the start, but I did not see anyone carrying it about, so I suppose it was what they call "covering money," which, I presume, is covered over for safety, as it would be risky to walk about a race-course with a ton of loose money--not that I suppose anyone who goes racing would touch it, but it _might_ be lost! Anyhow, there was a ton of money for the winner _after_ the race, which his owner _had_ to take, willy-nilly, or HOBSON's choice!

The pleasantest feature of the meeting, however, was the re-appearance of H.R.H. the Prince of WALES, which was also pleasantly marked by one of his horses winning a race! The Public having anxiously "watched" for H.R.H., the success of _The Vigil_ was received with enthusiasm!

Next week takes us to Gatwick and Sandown--(or rather the _train_ takes us--another absurd expression)--the last day of the latter Meeting being devoted to "Jumping Races," which is the contemptuous way some people speak of the winter branch of our National Sport!--forgetting that it demands the two most desirable qualities in a horse, _speed and endurance_--whereas the modern flat-racing has degenerated, for the most part, into scrambles and gambles, where _speed_ is the only requisite!--but more of this anon--but _not_ anonymous, as I believe in signed articles, as the apprentice said! (_Not_ BRADFORD!)

The most important race at Gatwick--(_delightful_ place to go racing--lots of room to move about in)--is the Thousand Pound Handicap, in which race _Brandy_ is worth keeping an eye on, as she ought to beat _Burnaby_ at the difference in the weights--other horses that might make their mark during the week--(especially now the ground is soft)--are, _Pilot, Golden Garter_--(_I_ never was guilty of such extravagance as that)--_Queen of Navarre_--(_she_ might have been)--_Meadow Brown_, _Terror_, and _Seawall_, the last three in the "Jumping Races"--and, in conclusion, the inevitable rhythmical winner, from

Yours devotedly, LADY GAY.

ORLEANS NURSERY SELECTION.

The man who would back any other Appears but a gander to be, For the horse that all comers will smother Is certainly _Tanderagee_!

* * * * *

* * * * *

MY SEASON TICKET.

Ever against my breast, Safe in my pocket pressed, Ready at my behest, Daintily pretty Gilt-printed piece of leather, Though fair or foul the weather, Daily we go together Up to the City. Yet, as I ride at ease, Papers strewn on my knees, And I hear "Seasons, please!" Shouted in warning: Pockets I search in vain All through and through again; "Pray do not stop the train-- Lost it this morning. No, I have not a card, Nor can I pay you, Guard-- Truly my lot is hard, This is the reason, Now I recall to mind Changing my clothes, I find I left them all behind,-- Money, cards, 'Season.'"

* * * * *

WRITTEN A HUNDRED YEARS HENCE.

(_FROM A COLLECTION OF COMMUNICATIONS SUPPLIED BY OUR PROPHETIC COMPILER._)

DEAR MR. PUNCH,--Pray protect the Griffin! Those Goths and Vandals, the Members of the Corporation of the City of London, will remove it, unless you intervene. This beautiful work of Art, that stands on the supposed site of the mythical Temple Bar, is to come down. What would our ancestors say if they were here? Would they not frown at their degenerate descendants? Every student of history knows that this Griffin was put up by universal consent, and considered one of the finest works of art of the nineteenth century. As, indeed, it was. It is full of historic memories. It was here that WELLINGTON met NAPOLEON after Waterloo; and here, again, was the Volunteer Movement inaugurated, when Mr. Alderman WAT TYLER, putting himself at the head of the citizens, called for "Three cheers for the Charter and the Anti-Corn-Law League!" The beautiful bas-reliefs that used to represent the occasions have disappeared, but their subjects are tenderly cherished. If the Corporation _must_ pull down something, let them destroy the recently-erected Mansion House! but spare, oh spare, the Griffin!

Yours truly, A STUDENT OF THE LORE OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY.

_The Palace, Brixton_.

DEAR MR. PUNCH,--It is time for a protest! One of the most beautiful erections of the nineteenth century (the old South Kensington Railway Station of the District Railway) is to be removed! Instead of the picturesque iron roof, we are to have some abomination in stone! Can this be? It is said to be falling to pieces under the ravages of Time. If this be really the case, why not let it be restored? There was no more picturesque outcome from the nineteenth century than these pretty arrangements in metal. The last generation swept them away by scores, by hundreds, by thousands--they did not even spare the Brompton Boilers! Let not such a reproach be applicable to us. We pride ourselves upon our love of Art and veneration for the antique and the beautiful, and yet we would pull down a building that for a century has been the admiration of all with a soul for Art and a mind for appreciating the sublimest efforts of genius in its highest sense! This must not be.

_Burlington House_,

Yours truly, A ROYAL ACADEMICIAN.

_From_ 1 _to_ 1000, _Piccadilly._

DEAR MR. PUNCH,--I have had the advantage of reading the above letters before publication, and am of opinion that they are not one whit more nonsensical than letters about the _Foudroyant_ and the Emmanuel Hospital that were printed early in the nineties. You may make what use you please of this communication.

Yours respectfully, THE SPIRIT OF THE PAST.

_The Earth (Branch Establishment, Mars and Jupiter)._

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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.