Volume 107, September 29th, 1894

_edited by Sir Francis Burnand_

THE INVASION OF WOMAN.

When STREPHON shuts the ledger to, Relinquishing his duties, And takes the train from Waterloo For Clapham's rural beauties He dearly loves _en route_, we read, To smoke the solitary weed.

His hopes, alas, are quickly dashed, For CHLOË, maid provoking! Alertly enters, unabashed, The carriage labelled "Smoking"; His frown, his powerful cigar, His match--all unavailing are.

Yes, CHLOË comes, and brings no doubt, A friend to talk of fashions, While STREPHON lets his weed go out, A prey to angry passions, Which, later on, released will be Within the excellent _D. T._

Yet grieve not so, ungallant swain, Nor curse this innovation, Or, even if you do, refrain From words like "frequentation," But really, you should do no less Than cease to curse, and wholly bless.

For if the charm this female band Finds in you so immense is, That they contentedly can stand The smell your weed dispenses, A compliment they pay you then You will not gain from fellow-men!

* * * * *

A CERTAIN CURE.

["Eating sugarplums is the best cure for mundane sorrows."--_A Ladies' Journal, Sept. 19._]

Whatever the sorrows that chasten your life, A cure for them all you will quickly receive, If PHYLLIS should prove an unsuitable wife, If children undutiful cause you to grieve, Just get at the nearest confectioner's shop, The cheap and the comforting chocolate drop!

If the treatise at which you have constantly worked, (Four volumes portraying "the Growth of Mankind,") By editors still is consistently burked, If publishers still to its merits are blind, You grieve at their foolish perversity; well, There's healing and balm in the sweet caramel.

Perhaps you may find--many do--that your debts Are steadily growing, while incomes decay, And constant attempts to increase your assets By bold speculation seem hardly to pay; Though "Turks" may decline, do not grieve at your plight, But buy, as a substitute, Turkish Delight!

In fact, if misfortunes should seem to oppress, No longer their burden you'll sadly endure, You'll have in the midst of calamity's stress A certain specific that cannot but cure; "Away with all sorrow!" our teacher repeats, "Don't grieve at existence, but taste of its _sweets_!"

* * * * *

TO ALTHEA IN CHURCH.

You weren't so far off but I knew you, I instantly knew you were there! On my Ancient and Modern I drew you Between the first hymn and the prayer. I'm glad that my eyes keen and quick are, When there are such prospects to see. You're looking straight up at the Vicar-- I wish you'd look over at me!

You've a hat that is gauzy and shady, Your gown is a delicate grey-- So fair and so dainty a lady Ne'er entered the Church till to-day! Your chaperon quietly dozes. Would I were a wizard, for you! A wave of my wand, and with roses Should suddenly blossom your pew

* * * * *

ROBERT'S PICTER.

By some stordinary mistake on the part of some wery hemenent taker of Poortraits, I was last week requested for to go to him and set for my Picter.

He told me in his letter that his reason for wanting me to set to him was, becoz he wanted to have the Picters of all the Members of the Copperation, and of course they wood not be complete without mine, for tho of course he knew that I was not a real Common Counseller, still, he thort that I had left sitch a mark among them by my ten years constant service and unwarying atention to em, that the hole matter woud be wanting in completeness if my Picter was omitted, even if it was only as "Mr. ROBERT the City Waiter" a leading off the presession or a bringing up the Reer! I remembers werry well when the other City Picter was printed, about a year ago, when the LORD MARE'S three Footmen, all in their werry hansumest uniforms, was placed exactly in the front, and all being fine hansum fellers, as they undowtedly is, they were thort to have taken the shine out of the hole Picter, but that was in course quite a diffrent thing, and this new one is to be quite werry diffrent from that one, and carried out in quite another style altogether, and will, I shoud think, atract such uniwersal admiration as will quite cut out the Picter Gallery as was shown at Gildall last summer.

Sum few of the werry hansumest of the hole Court as has bin and got taken already, has bin and stuck theirselves up in the Reading Room, and werry proud they is of their apperience, and BROWN and Me has got sum of the Atendents to let us go in before the Members comes, and see em privately. BROWN says as how as he's quite sure as there must be sum mistake about me, becoz as he carn't at all see how I shoud fit in with the rest. But there's werry little dout in my mind that it's all a case of gelosy with BROWN, who woud werry much like to have sitch a chance.

* * * * *

I had my chance of going yesterday, and werry kind the Gennelman wos who took me, and he took me three times, to make sure of me. He said as I was a werry good Setter, and that everybody woud know who I was by my likenesses in _Punch_, and lots of peeple woud like to git my Picter, as it was a werry good likeness.

ROBERT.

* * * * *

A TERRIBLE TRANSFORMATION;

_Or, Evolution Gone Wrong._

["It is probable that the butterfly postillion, by an inverse process of evolution, becomes in time the sombre fly-driver."--_James Payn._]

Oh, polychromatic postillion, Who scoureth the Scarborough plains, And beareth the travelling million For infinitesimal gains; Oh, butterfly, picture thee--there is the rub!-- Developing backwards to worse than a grub!

It fills me with doldrums and dolour. To picture thy scarlet and blue Becoming so sadly "off colour," Descending to bumblebee hue; To dandy-grey russet; dunducketty dun! Oh, PAYN, this is painful. You must be in fun!

A fly-driver frumpy and fusty? You might as well just be a fly, All fuzzy, and buzzy, and dusty, A horror to ear and to eye, A-booming about and fly-blowing the crockery, No, no, gentle PAYN, this is surely mere mockery.

Would DARWIN were here to demolish "Development" turned upside down. Yon urchin in pink and high polish Degraded to rain-beaten brown? A butterfly turned a blackbeetle were sad, But nought to the fate of our postboy, poor lad!

A Hansom may sink to a "Shoful," A racer descend to the rank; But _this_ metamorphosis woeful Is fortune's most pitiless prank. Smart urchin in emerald, cobalt, vermilion, Turn fly-driver? Far better _die_ a postillion.

* * * * *

MORGENLIED.

(_By a Light Sleeper._)

"Ye little birds that sit and sing" Outside my window when the day is dawning. How I should like your little necks to wring, I fain would sleep, with weariness I'm yawning. Although for rest you may not feel inclined, Do cease, I beg of you, that aimless twitter: Try without noise the early worm to find. Why should you seek my rest-time to embitter?

No doubt you think your maddening cheep Sweeter than song of nightingale or linnet, But, tossing here with imprecations deep, I do declare I find no sweetness in it. "Higher up! move on!" or stay and hold your tongues, Had I a gun, the twig you'd quickly hop it; I wish you'd exercise your little lungs A thousand miles from here. In mercy stop it!

* * * * *

The Cyclist's Cycle.

(_An Elderly would-be Wheelman's Experience._)

Discuss the question,--"_Why_ Cycle?" Purchase a roadster,--Buy Cycle! Mount it, and tumble off--Try Cycle! Home bruised and shivering,--Icicle! Read the _Lancet_, am horrified,--Shy Cycle! Sell off at a sacrifice,--Fie Cycle! And that was the end of _my_ Cycle!

* * * * *

HERRICK ON RATIONAL DRESS.

Yes, "Knickers" are the proper dress Wherewith a Cycle's seat to press; Convenient, and--should you be thrown-- Making less re-ve-la-ti-on; There's less of danger, aye, and dirt. Attending the divided skirt. I will not say I wholly _like_ To see my JULIA on a "bike": I will not say that I should _choose_ To see CORINNA don the trews; But yet, if either beauty feel That she is _bound_ to cycle-wheel, (Like to a she-Ixion) then, Since ladies aim to ride like men, 'Tis clear that all experience teaches That it is best to wear knee-breeches, And drop the prejudice that doth dote On the tempestuous petticoat. A skirt that catcheth here and there, And leaves a stretch of stocking bare, Raiments that ruck, and cause thereby The wheels to move confusedly;-- All these be awkward follies, sure, Compared with dual garmenture. Knickers and leggings, by-and-by, With their unfeigned simplicity, Will more bewitch us--on a "bike"-- Than flowing skirts we now do like!

* * * * *

* * * * *

THE "AUTOMATIC" CONSCIENCE.

[A late report of the Automatic Machine Company says that out of every twelve coins placed in the slot _two are bad_.]

_Average "Honest Man" loq.:_--

Put a penny in the slot? That is simply tommy-rot! If _I_ want a cigarette, Or some butter scotch, you bet, If _I_ put a penny in, 'Tis a _bad_ one! Bits of tin, Workmen's tickets, discs of zinc, Aught that's rounded and will chink, Chips of copper filed to size, Tokens, counters--all I tries. Takes a lot o' trouble, too, To fake up a reglar "do." So for nix I often get Butter scotch or cigarette. Oh! it is a splendid joke! I should like to see the bloke When he turns 'em out! Oh lor! Twenty per cent. are shams--or more! _Honest?_ Wot? To a _machine_? You must think me jolly green! The machine can't cop or blow! Automatics do not know. If I pop a "Frenchy" in, Or a lump of brass or tin, Who's to tell that I do _not_ Put a penny in the slot?

* * * * *

IN THE PRESS.--_The Cruelty of the Jap._ By the Author of _The Kindness of the Celestial_.

* * * * *

A LITTLE FLIRTATION.

SCENE--_The "Gothenburg Arms," under new (Municipal) Management, licensed for the sale of liquors for the public profit only._ Mr. G., _an elderly but cheerful and chatty customer, and_ Miss JOSEPHINE, _a smart barmaid, discovered conversing across the counter_.

_Miss Joe (aside)._ Why, here is that chirpy old josser again! I wonder, now, what is his little game _here_?

_Mr. G. (aside)._ Aha! there she is, looking smart as fresh paint! (_Aloud._) Good morning, Miss JOSEY! How are you, my dear?

_Miss Joe._ Ah, tha-anks. _I_'m all right.

_Mr. G._ Which you look it indeed! Just a glass of the usual, my dear, _if_ you please.

_Miss Joe (drawing it)._ Oh, I thought you'd turned total abstainer or something.

_Mr. G._ Dear no! That's your chaff; you were always a tease.

_Miss Joe (bristling)._ A tease, Mr. G.? Why, I wouldn't demean myself. What can it matter to _me_ what you take?

_Mr. G._ Come now, Miss JOE, don't be raspy this morning.

_Miss Joe. Me_ raspy, indeed! Well, you _do_ take the cake!

You've been awfully down on the Bungs for a long time, have you and your friends, that Miss HARCOURT and such.

_Mr. G._ Don't call her my friend, if you please, dear Miss JOSEY.

_Miss Joe._ Oh, come!--I say!--this is a trifle _too_ much!

Were not you and that LAWSON, and others, fair pals; Local Optioners down to the ground, and all that?

_Mr. G. (airily)._ Oh, now I am "freer" and much less "responsible." Makes _such_ a difference!

_Miss Joe._ What _are_ you at?

_Mr. G._ Why, my dear girl, this new Gothenburg system always has struck me as quite the sole chance

Of escape from predicament truly contemptible--only fair promise of real advance.

_So_ glad to see you so active in aid of it!

_Miss Joe (coquettishly). Oh_, Mr. G.! if Miss H. could but hear----!

_Mr. G. (pettishly)._ Bother Miss H.! Local Option's her fad, and I'm friendly, of course, to it, only, my dear,

The mere limitation of numbers--her idol and Parliament's also for twenty years past--

Is all tommy-rot _as a remedy_!

_Miss Joe._ Really, my _dear_ Mr. G., you are getting on fast.

Don't mean to say you mean "chucking" Miss H. and the rest of the Vetoers, WILFRID and all?

What will _he_ say? He'll be giving you beans; and that blessed Alliance will raise a big squall.

_Mr. G._ "Charge, CHESTER, charge!" is my Marmion-motto. LAWSON and DAWSON may kick up a row,

But I back you and the Gothenburg system, Miss JOE, and of course I can own to it--_now_!

_Miss Joe._ Well, I feel flattered! But oh, _poor_ Miss H.

_Mr. G. Entre nous_, my dear JOE, Local Option, _per se_, Is just an Imposture!!!

_Miss H. (who has entered unperceived)._ Oh, _is_ it? My favourite measure, too! Oh, Mister G.! Mister G.!

Call you this backing your friends? And to _her too_, that minx who was false to you when _I_ was true!

Really it's not safe to leave you a moment! You naughty old mischief you--_come along, do_!

* * * * *

* * * * *

Friendly Lead for the Owner of "Ladas."

The Nonconformist Conscience, which doth mark Poor PRIMROSE with the ire of an apostle, Will probably consider it a lark To see swift _Ladas_ beaten by a _Throstle_. Accept the omen, ROSEBERY; turn 'cute hedger; And try the Bethel blend of "Saint" and "Ledger."

* * * * *

THE PLEA OF THE PARTY SCRIBE.--It is said that "upright writers" avoid scrivener's palsy or penman's cramp. Perhaps so. But then there is so little demand for upright writers!

* * * * *

LYRE AND LANCET.

(_A Story in Scenes._)