Part 1

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LONDON:

PUBLISHED AT THE OFFICE, 85, FLEET STREET,

AND SOLD BY ALL BOOKSELLERS.

1893.

* * * * *

"_Vox, et praeterea nihil!_" murmured Somebody in the background.

"Who made that stale and inappropriate quotation?" exclaimed Mr. Oracle PUNCH, looking severely around the illustrious group gathered in his _sanctum_ about the brazen tripod which bore his brand-new Phonograph.

Nobody answered.

"Glad to see you are ashamed of yourself, whoever you are," snapped the Seer.

"Rather think the--a--Spook spoke," muttered a self-important-looking personage, obliquely eyeing a shadowy visitor from Borderland.

"Humph! JULIA may use _your_ hand, but you will not trump _mine_," retorted the Oracle. "If _revenants_ knew what nonsense is put into their spectral mouths by noodles and charlatans, they would never return to be made spectral pilgarlics of."

"A ghost is a good thing--in a Christmas story!" laughed the jolly old gentleman in a holly-crown. "Elsewhere it is generally a fraud and a nuisance."

"Right, Father Christmas!" cried Mr. PUNCH. "But the _Voces_ from my Oracular Funograph are not ghostly nothings, neither are they ambiguous, like the oracles of the Sibyl of Cumae,--to which, my eloquent Premier, some have had the audacity to compare certain of _your_ vocal deliverances."

The Old Oracular Hand smiled sweetly. "_Nescit vox missa reverti_," he murmured. "Would that EDISON could invent a Party Leader's Phonograph whose utterances should satisfy at the time without danger of being quoted against one fifty years later by CLEON the Tanner, or AGORACRITUS the Sausage-Seller, to whom even the Sibylline Books would scarce have been sacred. But you and your Funograph--as you neatly call it--have never been Paphlagonian, have never had to give up to Party what was meant for Mankind."

"_And_ Womankind, surely, Mr. GLADSTONE?" subjoined the Strong-minded Woman, glaring reproachfully through her spectacles at the Anti-Woman's-Rights Premier. "I wish I could say as much of _you_, Sir!"

"Labour and the Ladies seem to have small share in his thoughts," began the Striker, hotly, when Lord ROSEBERY touched him gently on his fustian-clad shoulder, and he subsided.

"Am _I_ not a lady?" queried HIBERNIA, with an affectionate glance at her aged champion.

"Golly, and me too?" added a damsel of dusky Libyan charms, clinging close to the stalwart arm of Napoleonic CECIL RHODES.

"Yes--with a difference!" said the Oracle, drily. "'_Place aux dames_' is a motto of partial and rather capricious application, is it not, my evergreen Premier?"

"A principle of politeness rather than of politics or Parliament--at present," murmured the G. O. M.

"Pooh!" sniffed the Strong-minded Woman. "It will _spread_. Read Mr. H. FOWLER'S Bill, and Dr. ALFRED RUSSEL WALLACE'S _Woman and Natural Selection_; put this and that together, and perpend!"

"The Penny Phonograph," pursued Mr. Oracle PUNCH, "is now prodigiously patronised. For the popular penny you can hear an American band, a Chevalier coster ballad, the 'Charge of the Light Brigade,' a comic song by 'Little TICH,' or a speech by the Old Man eloquent. No; for the latter I believe they charge twopence. That _is_ fame, my Pantagruelian Premier. But in _my_ Funograph--charge the unchangeable Threepence--you can hear the very voice of Wisdom and Wit, of Humanity and Humour, of Eloquence and Essential Truth, of Music and of Mirth!"

"Hear! hear! hear!" chorussed everybody.

"You _shall_ hear!" said the Oracle. "Stand round, all of you, and adjust your ear-tubes! DIONYSIUS'S EAR was not an aural 'circumstance' (as your countryman would say, CLEVELAND) compared with this. _Vox, et praeterea nihil_, indeed!"

"_Nihil_--or Nihilism," growled the Trafalgar Square Anarchist, "is the burden of the _vox populi_ of to-day----"

"_Vox diaboli_, you mean," interrupted the great Funographer, sternly. "And there is no opening for that _vox_ here. Shut up! You are here, misguided mischief-maker, not to spout murderously dogmatic negation, but to listen and--I hope--learn!"

"I trust you have guidance for me," murmured gentle but anxious-faced Charity. "It would, like my ministrations, be most seasonable--as Father Christmas could tell you--for between my innumerable claims, and my contradictory 'multitude of counsellors,' my friends and enemies, my gushingly indiscriminate enthusiasts, and my arid, hide-bound 'organisers,' I was never, my dear Mr. PUNCH, so completely puzzled in my life."

"Sweet lady," responded the Oracle, with gentle gravity, "there is guidance here for _all_ who will listen; heavenly Charity and diabolic Anarchy, eloquent Statesmanship and adventurous Enterprise, scared Capital and clamorous Labour, fogged Finance and self-assertive Femininity; for the motley and many-voiced Utopia-hunters who fancy they see imminent salvation in Imperial Pomp or Parochial Pump, in Constitutional Clubs or County Councils, in Home Rule, Primrose Leagues, or the Living Wage, in Democracy or in Dynamite, in High Art or Mahatmas, in Science or in Spooks. Take your places, Ladies and Gentlemen! Charity first, if you please, with Father Christmas to her right, leaving room for the little New Year on her left. Listen all, and learn by the various voices of that many-cylindered, marvellous Funographic Machine, my

ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTH VOLUME!"

* * * * *

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI

VOLUME 105, JULY 8th 1893

_edited by Sir Francis Burnand_

* * * * *

* * * * *

THE HEALTH SEEKER'S VADE MECUM.

(_Revised up to Date._)

_Question._ Is it good for the health to keep awake?

_Answer._ Certainly not; as sleep is most necessary to the body's repose.

_Q._ Then should one go to sleep?

_A._ No; for it must in the end be injurious to the mind.

_Q._ Is walking a good thing?

_A._ Certainly not; as it may lead to cramp.

_Q._ Is resting to be recommended?

_A._ Oh no; for exercise is absolutely a necessity.

_Q._ Is riding permissible?

_A._ Not when the wood pavement produces the new sore throat.

_Q._ Should we eat?

_A._ No; for everything is adulterated.

_Q._ Should we drink?

_A._ No; liquor is injurious.

_Q._ Should we starve?

_A._ No; meals are really needful.

_Q._ Is it safe to stay at home?

_A._ No; because change of air is most beneficial to everyone.

_Q._ Is it advisable to go abroad?

_A._ Not at all; many epidemics are reported to be rife everywhere on the other side of the channel.

_Q._ Is it good to live?

_A._ Scarcely; because illness is worse than death.

_Q._ Is it good to die?

_A._ Probably; everything else is a failure, so no doubt this, too, is a grand mistake.

* * * * *

* * * * *

UNDER THE ROOSE.

RONDEL BY A RESTORED ONE.

(_Some way after a Swinburnian Model._)

Under the ROOSE! Decay seemed slow but sure, The golden chord Mors, lingering, aimed to loose; But kindness, care, and skill work wondrous cure, Under the ROOSE!

The patient probably had played the goose, Liverish, listless, yielding to the lure Of overstrain, caught in neglect's sly noose.

But symptoms pass if patience but endure, And ROBSON'S regimen brooks no excuse. Nerves get re-strung, the brisk blood pulses pure, Under the ROOSE!

* * * * *

OLD PROVERB VERIFIED.--"Miss VERNE, whose renown as a pianist is rapidly increasing, has hitherto been known to concert-goers as Miss MATHILDE WURM." So at last "the WURM has turned," and become Miss VERNE!

* * * * *

WHAT OUR EVENING PAPERS ARE COMING TO (_suggested by the newest thing in Pink and Green_).--Penny plain, and halfpenny coloured!

* * * * *

* * * * *

["Here comes a light to light us to bed, And a chopper to cut off the last--last--last Amendment's head!"

_Old Nursery Rhyme "amended."_]

There once was a Government good-- (All Governments are, so they tell us!)-- Who found themselves deep "in the wood," And a little bit blown in the "bellows." Their foes, who were many and mean, Persistently hunted and harried 'em. Their time they to spend meant On bogus "Amendment;" They moved such by hundreds--and _all_ to befriend meant-- Jawed round 'em, and--now and then--carried 'em! Singing fol-de-rol-lol-de-rol-lol! That Government upped and it said-- "We seem to be getting no forrader. It's time to go 'full steam ahead!' _Bella horrida_ couldn't be horrider, So let's declare 'war to the knife!' Dr. GUILLOTIN'S knife, sharp and summary, We _must_ put a stopper On Unionist 'whopper,' Or else the best Government must come a cropper Along of their falsehood and flummery!" Singing fol-de-rol-lol-de-rol-lol! "Doctor GUILLOTIN claimed that his blade Was 'a punishment sure, quick, and uniform,' So when sham 'Amendment' has laid On the table its paltry and puny form, We'll just give it time to turn round, And if it's prolix or cantankerous, To the block be it led And then--off with its head!"-- Well, for summary shrift there _is_ much to be said, When the criminal's rowdy and rancorous. Singing fol-de-rol-lol-de-rol-lol!

* * * * *

SUB JUDICE.

(_An entirely Imaginary Report of an utterly Impossible Case._)

THE MUSTARD MYSTERY. 120TH DAY.

To-day the prisoner in this matter was once again brought before the magistrates on the charge already stated. The same counsel were present for the prosecution and the defence that had put in an appearance yesterday. The court was densely crowded.

BENJAMIN BROWN deposed that he had often slammed a door. He knew the sound of the slamming of a door, and thought he could distinguish it from the noise of an earthquake. On cross examination he admitted that he had not slammed a door, and had never been present at an earthquake. On re-examination he said that although he had not been present at an earthquake he was conversant with its characteristics.

JOHN JONES deposed that he had once seen a man who might have been the prisoner. It was sixteen years ago. The man to whom he referred was talking to a female. On cross-examination he admitted that, so far as he knew to the contrary, the man may have been addressing his grandmother. On re-examination he did not know that the female was a grandmother--she might have been a grand aunt.

RICHARD ROBERTSON deposed that he had seen a pair of slippers. They might have been the slippers of the prisoner. He saw one of those slippers thrown with considerable force at a water-butt. He had examined the water-butt, and there was a mark on it. On cross-examination he admitted that he did not know how the mark on the water-butt had been made. It might have been by a boot, and not a slipper. He did not know to whom the slippers belonged. They might have been the property of the prisoner. He was not sure that he had seen the slippers in the presence of the prisoner. In fact, he was not sure he had ever seen the prisoner before. He was also doubtful about the identity of the slippers. However, on re-examination, he was sure he had seen some slippers, and also a water-butt.

After some further evidence, the inquiry was adjourned until to-morrow.

* * * * *

* * * * *

THE THREE GEORGES.

The following two letters have reached _Mr. Punch_, curiously enough, by the same post. Here they are, just as they were received:--

DEAR MR. PUNCH,--Will you allow me, through your columns, to thank the public for the brilliant way in which they are recognising my claims to distinction? As I walk through the streets I see evidence on all hands that on Thursday night London will be ablaze with "G. M."! Permit me, Sir, thus publicly to thank a discriminating public.--Yours Egoist-ically,

G-ORGE M-R-D-TH.

DEAR MR. PUNCH,--The Alderman in Art is beaten, and even the City is one continuous tribute to "G. M." Critics, envious of my _Speaker_ reputation, may carp, and say the tribute's all gas--a half-truth, concealing truth; but the public evidently know where to look for the true critical insight. I am obliged to them, and I thank you for this opportunity of saying so.

Yours (naturally) as fresh as paint, G-ORGE M-RE.

* * * * *

SOMETHING THAT HAD BEEN BETTER LEFT UNSAID. (_By an ex-Old Bachelor, discontented with his condition in general, and his Mother-in-law in particular_).--"I will!"

* * * * *

A WEDDING FAVOUR.--A reserved first-class compartment on the London, Chatham and Dover.

* * * * *

AD FRATREM.

BY A REMONSTRATIVE SISTER.

(_See "Ad Examinatorem," Punch, July 1, 1893._)

Dear Tom, you astonished me quite With your vigorous verses last week, It will be an unceasing delight In future, sweet brother, to speak Of the family poet--yourself! Yet I feel I must bid you beware. It may not be nice, but the word of advice Is your favourite, "Don't lose your hair!"

Yes, I own it was rather a blow When they brought out the merciless list, For you primed up the Pater, I know, With such rubbish, and just _would_ insist The Exam. was as hard as could be. Ah! you painted it all at the worst, It was hard lines on you, THOMAS, not to get through, While the "crock" of a MAUD got a first.

Still, why did you rush into print With your torrent of bitter complaint? To do so without the least hint, Well, brotherly, dear, it quite _ain't_. 'Twere wiser and better by far To have laid all the blame on a tooth, For whatever's the use of a lovely excuse If not in concealing the truth?

So bottle your anger, dear boy, Forget how to shuffle and shirk, Find intelligent purpose and joy In a season of honest hard work. You'll pass when you go in again, And eclipse in the passing poor me; For a girl, though she can beat the whole tribe of Man, Isn't fit, TOM, to have a degree!

* * * * *

THE SONG OF THE SESSION.

AIR--"_What shall he have that kill'd the Deer?_"

What must he have who'd kill the Bill? A leathern skin, and a stubborn will. Brummagem's his home. Take then no shame to name his name! Bill-slaughtering is his little game. He'd be its death--he swore it, As limb from limb he tore it-- The Bill, the Bill, the lusty Bill! Is it a thing Brum JOE _can_ kill?

* * * * *

A TESTIMONIAL MANQUE.

(A SKETCH FROM THE SUBURBS.)

THE ARGUMENT--Mr. HOTSPUR PORPENTINE, _a distinguished resident in the rising suburb of Jerrymere, has recently been awarded fourteen days' imprisonment, without the option of a fine, for assaulting a ticket-collector, who had offered him the indignity of requiring him to show his season-ticket at the barrier. The scene is a Second-Class Compartment, in which four of_ Mr. PORPENTINE'S _neighbours are discussing the affair during their return from the City_.

_Mr. Cockcroft (warmly)._ I say, Sir--and I'm sure all here will bear me out--that such a sentence was a scandalous abuse of justice. As a near neighbour, and an intimate friend of PORPENTINE'S, I don't 'esitate to assert that he has done nothing whatever to forfeit our esteem. He's a quick-tempered man, as we're all aware, and to be asked by some meddlesome official to show his season, after travelling on the line constantly for years, and leaving it at home that morning--why--I don't blame him if he _did_ use his umbrella!

_Mr. Balch. (sympathetically)._ Nor I. PORPENTINE'S a man I've always had a very 'igh respect for ever since I came into this neighbourhood. I've always found him a good feller, and a good neighbour.

_Mr. Filkins (deferentially)._ I can't claim to be as intimate with him as some here; but, if it isn't putting myself too far forward to say so, I very cordially beg to say ditto to those sentiments.

_Mr. Sibbering_ (_who has never "taken to"_ PORPENTINE). Well, he's had a sharp lesson,--there's no denying that.

_Mr. Cocker._ Precisely, and it occurs to me that when he--ah--returns to public life, it would be a kind thing, and a graceful thing, and a thing he would--ah--appreciate in the spirit it was intended, if we were to present him with some little token of our sympathy and unabated esteem--what do you fellers think?

_Mr. Filk._ A most excellent suggestion, if my friend here will allow me to say so. I, for one, shall be proud to contribute to so worthy an object.

_Mr. Balch._ I don't see why we shouldn't present him with an address--'ave it illuminated, and framed and glazed; sort of thing he could 'ang up and 'and down to his children after him as an _heirloom_, y' know.

_Mr. Sibb._ I don't like to throw cold water on any proposition, but if you want _my_ opinion, I must say I see no necessity for making a public thing of it in that way.

_Mr. Cocker._ I'm with SIBBERING there. The less fuss there is about it, the better PORPENTINE'll be pleased. My idea is to give him something of daily use--a _useful_ thing, y' know.

_Mr. Balch._ Useful _or_ ornamental. Why not his own portrait? There's many an artist who would do him in oils, and guarantee a likeness, frame included, for a five-pound note.

_Mr. Sibb._ If it's to be like PORPENTINE, it certainly won't be _ornamental_, whatever else it is.

_Mr. Filk._ It can't be denied that he is remarkably plain in the face. We'd better, as our friend Mr. COCKCROFT here proposes, make it something of daily use--a good serviceable silk umberella now--that's _always_ appropriate.

_Mr. Sibb._ To make up for the one he broke over the collector's head, eh? that's _appropriate_ enough!

_Mr. Cocker._ No, no; you mean well, FILKINS, but you must see yourself, on reflection, that there would be a certain want of--ah--good taste in giving him a thing like that under the circumstances. I should suggest something like a hatstand--a handsome one, of course. I happen to know that he has nothing in the passage at present but a row of pegs.

_Mr. Sibb._ I should have thought he'd been taken down enough pegs already.

_Mr. Filk. (who resents the imputation upon his taste)._ I can't say what the width of Mr. PORPENTINE'S passage may be, never having been privileged with an invitation to pass the threshold, but unless it's wider than ours is, he couldn't get a hatstand in if he tried, and if my friend COCKCROFT will excuse the remark, I see no sense--to say nothing of good taste, about which perhaps I mayn't be qualified to pass an opinion--in giving him an article he's got no room for.

_Mr. Cocker. (with warmth)._ There's room enough in PORPENTINE'S passage for a whole host of hatstands, if that's all, and I know what I'm speaking about. I've been in and out there often enough. I'm--ah--a regular tame cat in that house. But if you're against the 'atstand, I say no more--we'll waive it. How would it do if we gave him a nice comfortable easy-chair--something he could sit in of an evening, y' know?

_Mr. Sibb._ A touchy chap like PORPENTINE would be sure to fancy we thought he wanted something soft after a hard bench and a plank bed--you can't go and give him _furniture_!

_Mr. Cocker. (with dignity)._ There's a way of doing all things. I wasn't proposing to go and chuck the chair _at_ him--he's a sensitive feller in many respects, and he'd feel _that_, I grant you. He can't object to a little present of that sort just from four friends like ourselves.

_Mr. Balch. (with a falling countenance)._ Oh! I thought it was to be a general affair, limited to a small sum, so that all who liked could join in. I'd no notion you meant to keep it such a private matter as all that.

_Mr. Filk._ Nor I. And, knowing Mr. PORPENTINE so slightly as I do, he might consider it presumption in me, making myself so prominent in the matter--or else I'm sure----

_Mr. Cocker._ There's no occasion for anyone to be prominent, except myself. You leave it entirely in my 'ands. I'll have the chair taken up some evening to PORPENTINE'S house on a 'andcart, and drop in, and just lead up to it carelessly, if you understand me, then go out and wheel the chair in, make him try it--and there you _are_.

_Mr. Balch._ There _you_ are, right enough; but I don't see where _we_ come in, exactly.

_Mr. Filk._ If it's to be confined to just us four, I certingly think we ought _all_ to be present at the presentation.

_Mr. Cocker._ That would be just the very thing to put a man like PORPENTINE out--a crowd dropping in on him like that! I know his ways, and, seeing I'm providing the chair----

_Mr. Balch. (relieved)._ You are? That's different, of course; but I thought you said that we four----

_Mr. Cocker._ I'm coming to that. As the prime mover, and a particular friend of PORPENTINE'S, it's only right and fair I should bear the chief burden. There's an easy-chair I have at home that only wants re-covering to be as good as new, and all you fellers need do is to pay for 'aving it nicely done up in velvet, or what not, and we'll call it quits.

_Mr. Balch._ I daresay; but I like to know what I'm letting myself in for; and there's upholsterers who'll charge as much for doing up a chair as would furnish a room.

_Mr. Filk._ I--I shouldn't feel justified, with my family, and, as, comparatively speaking, a recent resident, in going beyond a certain limit, and unless the estimate could be kep' down to a moderate sum, I really----

_Mr. Sibb. (unmasking)._ After all, you know, I don't see why we should go to any expense over a stuck-up, cross-grained chap like PORPENTINE. It's well-known he hasn't a good word to say for us Jerrymere folks, and considers himself above the lot of us!

_Mr. Balch and Mr. Filk._ I'm bound to say there's a good deal in what SIBBERING says. PORPENTINE'S never shown himself what _I_ should call sociable.

_Mr. Cocker._ I've never found him anything but pleasant myself, whatever he may be to others. I'm not denying he's an _exclusive_ man, and a _fastidious_ man, but he's been 'arshly treated, and _I_ should have thought this was an occasion--if ever there was one--for putting any private feelings aside, and rallying round him to show our respect and sympathy. But of course if you're going to let petty jealousies of this sort get the better of you, and leave me to do the 'ole thing myself, _I've_ no objection. I daresay he'll value it all the more coming from me.

_Mr. Sibb._ Well, he _ought_ to, after the shameful way he's spoken of you to a friend of mine in the City, who shall be nameless. You mayn't know, and if not, it's only right I should mention it, that he complained bitterly of having to change his regular train on your account, and said (I'm only repeating his words, mind you) that Jerrymere was entirely populated by bores, but you were the worst of the lot, and your jabber twice a day was more than he _could_ stand. He mayn't have _meant_ anything by it, but it was decidedly uncalled for.