Chapter 1

Whoever-it-may-be. Will the clever authoress accept this well-meant hint from her literary and critical admirer, THE GALLANT BARON DE B.-W.?

* * * * *

ROBERT WITH THE CHILDREN AT GILDHALL.

Well, I don't quite kno as I quite hunderstans what's bin a goin on in our old Sacred Gildall, or weather it's all xactly what sum of our werry sollemest Holldermen, or ewen our werry anshent Depputys, might admire; but I must say, for myself, that too thowsand more owdashus boys, and larfing gals, I never seed nor herd than I did on Toosday larst, for about fore hours, in old Gildall aforesaid!

Jest to show how the werry best, aye and the werry wisest on us, gets carried away by the site of swarms of appy children a enjoying thereselves, as praps they never did afore, I feels myself compelled to state, that our good kind Lord MARE was so delighted to see sich swarms of appy children all round him and looking up to him so appy and so grateful, that, jest afore it was time to go, he acshally told 'em a most wunderful story all about two great Giants as lived in the rain of King LUD, on Ludgate Hill. I was that estonished when he begun, as to amost think that GOG and MAGOG, as stood on both sides of him, would begin to grin, but that was, of course, only a passing delushun. But didn't all the children lissen with open mouths when the Lord MARE told 'em that one of the Giants had too heads, and the other three! and that a very good boy named JACK managed to kill 'em both!

And so all was ended but the cheering, and that the pore delited children kept up till they all marched out, smiling and appy, and wishing as such glorious heavenings was in store for them in grand old Gildall for many, many years to come, and with sitch a Lord Mare to see as everything was done as it had been done that jolly heavening.

ROBERT.

* * * * *

DWARFS.--Of course there are dwarfs. Lots of 'em all over the world. At least no experienced traveller ever yet made a stay in any country without becoming acquainted with plenty of people who were "uncommonly 'short' just at that moment,"--"that moment" being when the impecunious traveller wanted to obtain a slight loan. The author of _Borrow in Spain_ would have been an authority on such a subject.

* * * * *

TRANSFORMATION SCENE.--Dear Sir, I see by the paper that "Mr. EDMUND YATES has been made a J. P." Odd! What does "J. P." stand for? Oh, of course, "JOE PARKINSON." But does "E. Y." on becoming "J. P." cease to be "MOI-MÊME"?--Yours, M. MUDDLE.

* * * * *

* * * * *

THE LATEST TRADE OUTRAGE!

(_Scene from the New and Unpopular Sensation Drama of "The Monopoly-Monster and the Maid Forlorn."_)

["A large number of complaints have reached the Board of Trade with regard to increase in the new rates adopted by Railway Companies as from January 1 ... among other complaints of increase of rates for the conveyance of milk, grain, hay and other agricultural produce, firewood, live stock, coal and coke, iron and hardware."--Sir COURTENAY BOYLE _to the Secretary of the Railway Companies Association_.]

Oh! who'll bring a rescue or two to the help of a much-injured Maid, Thus cruelly bound hand and foot, and by miscreants ruthlessly laid On the lines, in the Pathway of Peril? The Monster snorts nearer! Bohoo! 'Tis a Melodrame-crisis of danger!--and _who'll_ bring a rescue or two?

The Maid (British Trade), has been harried and hunted by villains and robbers, By bold, bad, black-masked foreign foes, and by home-bred monopolist jobbers. In town or in country alike the poor dear has been chevied and chased. By rivals deceitful and dark, and by kindred deboshed and debased.

She once was a proud reigning beauty, who now is a maid all forlorn, As hopeless and helpless, and tearful as RUTH midst the alien corn. Or poor Proserpine snatched by dark Pluto afar from the day and the light; Torn away--like this maiden--from Ceres, and wrapt--like this maiden--in night.

Perchance she was just a bit haughty in virginal safety and pride; No rival too near her high throne, Prince FORTUNIO aye at her side; But now a poor PERDITA, prone at the feet of her foes she lies bound, And that melodramatic thud-thud draweth near--a most menacing sound!

Ah! sure 'twas enough to deprive the Maid of Protection, her trust! But this is the last straw of burden that bows her poor back to the dust. That Monster _should_ be her sworn henchman, and now she lies bound in his path! Oh! where is the hero who'll rush to her rescue, in chivalrous wrath?

Such champion always turns up--on the stage! CHAPLIN, WINCHILSEA, BOYLE, HOWARD-VINCENT & Co., here's your chance. Shall she be that big Monster's mere spoil? Ah! Surely the Maid is too lovely to leave to the murderous crew Of the Monster Monopoly's myrmidons! _Who_'ll bring a rescue or two?

* * * * *

Her First Appearance.

"What! a new Magazine!" just so, First number, January, "Oh! So far? yet farther sure will go _The Mother._"

* * * * *

"SCHOOL ATTENDANCE IN BAD WEATHER."--"SANDFORD" writes of this to the _Times_. Why doesn't MERTON--our TOMMY MERTON--speak? And what has the venerated Mr. BARLOW got to say?

* * * * *

"THE SITUATION IN EUROPE."--Monte Carlo (_i.e._, for the winter months).

* * * * *

ETHNOGRAPHICAL ALPHABET.

A is an Afghan, whose knife bids one quail; B is a Boer, who made England turn pale; C is a Chinaman, proud of his tail; D is a Dutchman, who loves pipe and ale; E is an Eskimo, packed like a bale; F is a Frenchman, _à Paris fidèle_; G is a German, he fought tooth and nail; H is a Highlander, otherwise Gael; I is an Irishman, just out of gaol; J is a Jew at a furniture sale; K is a Kalmuck, not high in the scale; L is a Lowlander, swallowing kale; M a Malay, a most murderous male; N a Norwegian, who dwells near the whale; O is an Ojibway, brave on the trail; P is a Pole with a past to bewail; Q is a Queenslander, sunburnt and hale; R is a Russian, against whom we rail; S is a Spaniard, as slow as a snail; T is a Turk with his wife in a veil; U a United States' Student at Yale; V a Venetian in gondola frail; W Welshman, with coal, slate,--and shale; X is a Xanthian--or is he too stale?-- Y is a Yorkshireman, bred by the Swale; Z is a Zulu;--and now letters fail.

* * * * *

THE LATEST PARADOX.--JOHN STRANGE WINTER is taking Summer-y proceedings against the Coming Crinoline. Henceforth she will be always known as "the WINTER of our Discontent."

* * * * *

"GOOD BUS."--From the _Times_ money article we learn that PARR'S Banking Co., Limited, is paying 19 per cent. The price of the shares, therefore, must be considerably "_above par_." Capital this, for _Ma'_!

* * * * *

* * * * *

* * * * *

THE LAY OF THE (MUSIC-HALL) LAUREATE.

Ah! Who talks of the reversion of the Laurel, Of your MORRISSES, and SWINBURNES, and that gang? _I_ could lick them in a canter--that's a moral! I'm the most prolific bard who ever sang. Of the modern Music Hall I'm chosen Laureate, My cackle and my patter fill the Town; I'm more popular than BURNS, a thing to glory at; My name is PINDAR BOANERGES BROWN.

You have never heard it mentioned? Highly probable A hundred duffers flourish on _my_ fame; But the Muse is _so_ peculiarly rob-able, And I am very little known--by name? But ask the Big BONASSUS--on the Q. T.-- Or ask the Sisters SQUORKS, of P. B. B. And they'll tell you Titan Talent, Siren Beauty, Would be both the frostiest fizzles but for Me!

Gracious Heavens! When I think of all the cackle I have turned out for the heroes of the Halls!!! No wonder that the task I've now to tackle-- Something new and smart for TRICKSY TRIP!--appals. I have tried three several songs--and had to "stock 'em," She's imperative; her last Great Hit's played out, And she wants "a new big thing that's bound to knock 'em." And "she'd like it by return of post!"--No doubt!!!

She does four turns a night, and rakes the shekels; She sports a suit of sables and a brougham. Five years ago a lanky girl, with freckles, First fetched 'em with my hit, "_The Masher Groom_." And now her limbs spread pink on all the posters, And now she drives her pony-chaise--and Me! Poet-Laureate? I should like to set the boasters The tasks I have to try for "TRICKSY T."

I am vivid, I am various, I am versatile; I did "_Up to the Nines_" for DANDY DOBBS, And "_Smacky-Smack_" for "TIDDLUMS,"--Isn't _hers_ a tile?-- "_Salvation Sue_"--the stiffest of stiff jobs-- For roopy-raspy-voiced and vain "OEOLIA," Who dubs herself the SCHNEIDER-PATTI BLEND; And now, a prey to stone-broke melancholia, I sit and rack my fancy, to no end!

My ink runs dry, my wits seem gone wool-gathering; And yet I know that over half the town _My_ "stuff" the Stars are blaring, bleating, blathering, Sacking a tenner where I pouch a crown. I know that my--anonymous--smart verses, Are piling oof for middlemen in sacks, My verse brings pros. seal-coats and well-stuffed purses My back care bows, whilst profits lade _their_ backs.

If you'll show me any "Poet" more prolific, If you'll point to any "patterer" more smart, One whose "patriotic" zeal is more terrific, Who can give me at snide slang the slightest start, Who can fit a swell, a toff, a cad, a coster, At the very shortest notice, as _I_ can, Why, unless he is a swaggering impostor, I will gladly hail him as the Coming Man!

But he'll have to be a dab at drunken drivel, And he'll have to be a daisy at sick gush, To turn on the taps of swagger and of snivel, Raise the row-de-dow heel-chorus and hot flush. He must know the taste of sensual young masher, As well as that of aitch-omitting snob; And then--well, I'll admit he _is_ a dasher, Who, as Laureate (of the Halls) is "on the job!"

[_Left lamenting._

* * * * *

THE MAN FROM BLANKLEY'S.

A STORY IN SCENES