Part 2

_Gentleman of the Pavement_ (_spotting his man_). "NO, INDEED, SIR; MY MISFORTUNES ARE ENTIRELY ATTRIBUTABLE TO FREE TRADE, MONOMETALLISM, AND THE DEATH DUTIES."

[_Immediate relief on a generous scale._ ]

* * * * *

MRS. A.'S AT HOME.

_An awful night!_ I do believe it's snowing! Who from his "ain fireside" would wish to roam? Only a fool would go--and yet I'm going-- To Mrs. A.'s At Home!

The burden of At Homes! The bore of dressing! I must be wielding razor, brush, and comb (The snow has almost stopped--Come, that's a blessing!) For Mrs. A.'s At Home.

Why am I going? Well, to me the reason Looms large and clear as Paul's cathedral dome: The reason's--NANCY, whom I met last season At Mrs. A.'s At Home.

Hi, hansom! Off we go! Although sweet NANCY Since then has vanished like a fairy gnome, Yet I shall see her (sweet conceit) in fancy At Mrs. A.'s At Home.

"Thankee, my lord!"--he's earned that extra shilling, We've come along, the horse is flecked with foam-- Slowly upstairs I go, the rooms are filling At Mrs. A.'s At Home.

Then--why, good heavens! No! It isn't fancy!-- "Can it be you? I heard you were in Rome. Just fancy meeting you"--the real NANCY!-- "At Mrs. A.'s At Home!"

To-night and NANCY--rhyme excuses fiction-- Might, if I sang them, fill a ponderous tome: _A perfect night!_ I breathe a benediction On Mrs. A.'s At Home!

* * * * *

* * * * *

"THE LIGHT FANTASTIC!"

His task demands sinews and nerves As tough and as supple as hickory; He's done if he stumbles or swerves, This Titan-like pet of Terpsichore. What wonder he seems strung on wires From the tip of his trunk to his very toe, Performing a feat which requires The joint skill of BLONDIN and CERITO? Ah, JUMBO! stretch balance-wise tail-whisp and trunk, For you'll never get through if you fumble or funk.

Scarce "light" is his ponderous form, And his footing is hardly "fantastic." It makes one grow nervous and warm To watch this colossus gymnastic. Can't "trip it,"--although he may _trip_,-- His tentative toes throb and tremble; He waggles his tail like a whip: There's danger, but _he_ must dissemble; And though he an imminent downfall may dread, Must walk o'er the bottles with confident tread.

For Titan to dance on a tub As steady as--CECIL'S majority, Is easy, but--oh! there's the rub-- The bottle-trick has the priority. It comes first "by special request," And there isn't a chance of evasion. Poor JUMBO must fain do his best, Though he'd rather postpone the occasion. Titan-_Turreydrop_ now on St. Stephen's new floor Can't choose his own figures or steps any more!

There are plenty of "turns" he'd prefer, And numbers of tricks he'd do better. His "Gradation Dance" made a great stir. But, alas, for the goad and the fetter! As his enemies pipe he must dance, To public opinion he's plastic; And so, with a dubious glance, He essays this untried "Light Fantastic." From bottle to bottle slow picking his way, As an overture forced to the programme he'd play!

* * * * *

THE HARD FROST.

(_Communications Intercepted in Transit._)

_From a School Boy to his Younger Brother._--My dear BOBBIE,--How are you getting on at home? We are having a high old time at SWISHERS'. All the pipes frozen, and no water to be got anywhere! And it is so comfortable!

Yours, &c., JACKIE.

_From a Firm of Coachbuilders to one of their Customers._--Dear Sir,--As there is every reason to believe that the present severe weather will last for a considerable time, may we have the honour of building for you a sleigh? We shall be pleased to have the vehicle ready for you in the course of a month, or at the latest six weeks. Should the weather break in the meanwhile, it will be available under similar conditions next year or the year after. It will also be quite possible to carry the sleigh to Siberia, where it will at all times be found, not only a luxury, but a necessity. We are, dear Sir, awaiting your esteemed order,

BROWN, JONES, AND ROBINSON.

_From a Dramatist to an Intimate Friend._--My dear BILL,--Thank you for the marked paper you have forwarded to me. But the statistics are misleading. Talk about this being the greatest frost on record! You would not say so if you had been present at the first night of my play, _The Force of Circumstances_.--Yours gloomily,

SHAKSPEARE TOMKINS.

_From a Celestial Official to the Public._--Poor creatures,--You think you have seen the worst of the winter! Just like your presumption! When I can manage a sky salad of rain, fog, snow, thunderbolts and sunshine all mixed together in the course of ten minutes and set it before a London audience in the midst of a modern January, don't you be too sure of anything! Wait, my melancholy maniacs, and you shall see what you may possibly live to witness.--Yours disrespectfully,

THE CLERK OF THE WEATHER.

* * * * *

THE SLY OYSTER.

"There is an exception to every Rule."

_Bayliss's "Mayden Lane."_

'Tis the voice of the Oyster, I heard him complain, "You have woke me too soon, I must slumber again. I'm fat and quite well-- Have no doubt on that head-- But say that I'm ill, And _do_ leave me in bed.

"Just a little more sleep, Just a little more rest; How sweet, my dear friends, I shall be at my best! Oh, let me repose Say till May--May the one'th-- When, as everyone knows, There's no 'R' in the month!"

* * * * *

* * * * *

A VALENTYNE.

(_And a Remonstrance._)

This day to yow, dere ladye, wol I schowe Myn hertes wissche--_cum privilegio_. Of alle seintes nis ther more benigne To man and mayden noon thanne Valentyne; Sith everych yeer on that swete seintes day Man can to mayden al his herte displaie (Bye Cupid arwes smit in sory plighte-- One grote al pleyn, and twayn ypeinted brighte). Then wol I mak my playnte, so maist ye knowe Yon whele, dere ladye, don me mochel wo. Algates I greve, whanne that scorchours I mete That riden reccheles adoun the strete: I praie, bethynke yow, swiche diversioun Ben weel for mayde of mene condicioun, But ladye fayre in brekes al ydighte Certes meseems ne verray semelye sighte. Swiche gere, yclept "raccionale," parde, Righte sone wol be the dethe of chivalrye; And we schal heren, whanne that it be dede, The verdite, "Dethe by--Newe Womman-hede." Heede then theffect and end of my prayere, Upyeve thy whele, ne mannissche brekes were, Contente in graces maydenlye to schyne, So mote ye be myn owen Valentyne.

* * * * *

"Just the weather for receiving a sharp retort," observed our laughing Philosopher, with his snow-boots on. Naturally his friend wished to know why. "Because," replied Dr. CHUCKLER, "with the temperature below zero, no one can object to having _a wrap over the knuckles_." Then away he went merrily over the unartificial ice on the Serpentine.

* * * * *

TOBY TO H.R.H.

[_À propos_ of cropping dogs' ears, a letter from Sir F. KNOLLYS appeared last week in the _Stock-Keeper_, informing an inquirer that H.R.H. had never allowed any dog of his to be "mutilated," and was pleased to hear that "owners of dogs had agreed to abandon so objectionable a practice."]

We humbly thank the Prince of WALES, Henceforth we'll keep our ears and tails Intact, and shall not dread the shears Which used to crop our tails and ears. As novelists in magazines, And writers of dramatic scenes, By editorial scissors caught Object to have their tales cut short, So we, gay dogs: for gay we'll be, Henceforth the best of company! Convivial we around a joint, And not a tail without a point. Not cropped like convicts from the gaols! "Ear! Ear!" and "Bless the Prince of WALES!"

* * * * *

MUSICAL NOTE.--The title of a song, "_Come where the Booze is Cheaper_," has become widely known owing to a recent trial. We believe we are correct in saying that this song about "the Booze" is _not_ published by the well-known firm of "BOOSEY & CO."

* * * * *

TALL TALES OF SPORT AND ADVENTURE.

(_By Mr. Punch's own Short Story-teller._)

I.--THE PINK HIPPOPOTAMUS. (CONTINUED.)

I ought to mention that the Ranee, the aunt of my darling CHUDDAH, was as susceptible as she was haughty and ferocious. During my stay in the capital I had had several interviews with her, and I could not disguise from myself--why should I?--that she regarded me with no common favour. Indeed, she had taken the somewhat extreme step of informing me semi-officially (so that she might afterwards, if necessary, be at liberty to disavow it) that, if I would only consent to marry her, she would undertake to poison Sir BONAMY BATTLEHORN. I should thus be elevated not only to the supreme command of the British forces, but also to the throne of the Diamond City. But I withstood her blandishments, captivated, as I was, by the tender maidenly loveliness of CHUDDAH, and the wicked old woman had sworn to have her revenge. I had, of course, a staunch ally in her brother, the MEEBHOY, but in his disabled condition, that veteran warrior could be of little real use to me. Still he knew of my love for his niece CHUDDAH, and, knowing all my worth, he had already consecrated with his blessing our prospective union. On this particular evening I found CHUDDAH in her cosy little boudoir alone, save for the presence of her stout and comfortable old Ayah or Nana. The darling girl sprang up as I entered the room and threw herself into my arms in a passion of affection. I gently disengaged her arms from about my neck, and proceeded, as best I could, to inform her that I had come to take leave of her for a short time. Her grief was terrible to witness.

"Oh, my own!" she sobbed (I translate her language); "my very, very own, my tall and gorgeously beautiful son of the fair-faced English, my moon of radiant splendour, my star of aspiring hope, say not thou art come to say farewell, say it not my dearest Duffadar, for CHUDDAH cannot bear it."

"But, my darling," I urged, "duty calls, and CHUDDAH would not have her ORLANDO flinch."

The beautiful girl admitted the force of this appeal and a renewed scene of affectionate leave-taking took place. Suddenly the Ayah, who up to this moment had been dozing in her arm-chair, rose, and holding up a warning hand said, "Hist!"

We did so, alarmed by the impressive air of the good old nurse.

"Hist! What is that sound?"

I listened intently, and sure enough heard a faint tapping, proceeding apparently from the floor under my feet.

"I suspect treachery," continued the Ayah hurriedly. "'Twas only yester morn I saw YOUBYOUB scowling at us as we passed by on our early walk. Oh, beware, my lord, of YOUBYOUB."

This YOUBYOUB, I ought to say, was the young and bloodthirsty Prince of the Lozen Jehs, a tribe of wild warriors from the north. Betrothed to the beautiful CHUDDAH at an early age, he naturally viewed with hatred the advent of one on whom nature had bestowed her favours so bountifully, and who was bound, therefore, to make himself dear to CHUDDAH. I knew he detested me, but I had hitherto scorned him. I was now to discover my mistake.

Scarcely had the words left the Ayah's lips when a loud rumbling made itself heard: the floor seemed to heave in one terrific crash, there was a horrible explosion, and before I had time to realise what had happened we three, CHUDDAH, the Ayah and I, were being propelled upwards into space at the rate of at least a thousand miles an hour.

(_To be continued._)

* * * * *

* * * * *

TOYS' TALK.

(_Being an unflattering Tale of Hope._)

"There's ingratitude for you," said the Rag Doll marked "three-and-six."

"Where?" I asked, rousing myself from my meditation on my tambourine and drumsticks.

She pointed to a figure which had just been placed in the second row. He was dressed very smartly in a red coat trimmed with tinsel. But he had an unmistakeable air of second-hand.

"I made that man," said the Rag Doll, "and now he cuts me dead before them all! It's atrocious! Why, but for me he would have been bought for five shillings, and would have been the property of the plainest child in London."

"Not that," I pleaded; "think of----"

"Well, very plain, anyhow. I was ready to bow to him. I almost did."

"In fact, you did."

"I didn't. I declare I didn't."

"Oh, well, you didn't, then. It only looked like it."

"He first came here," said the Rag Doll, "three weeks ago. At that time he was--quite presentable. He was everything he should be. He stood firmly on his legs without toppling over, and had his cocked hat firmly fixed on his head. And his sword----"

"Where did he wear that?"

"He _carried_ that, Mr. WHYTE RABBIT. Don't be silly. Wore it by his side, you know, and had epaulettes, too."

"He has changed outwardly at least."

"Yes, I know; well, I did that. I took him in hand, and I just taught him, and now----!"

"Yes, I know. But how did you teach him?"

"I fell upon him. I knocked him from his perch, and in the fall broke his wretched sword with my own weight!"

"What very arbitrary distinctions you draw!"

"I don't know what you mean. I do like a plaything to be smart, anyhow. Don't you, Mr. WHYTE RABBIT? You don't play your tambourine properly. Now I shall take you in hand." And she slipped toward me.

"I prefer to use my own drumsticks. I can make enough noise in the world without extraneous assistance."

"How silly you are. I don't want to see you spick and span, as if you were ready to be given away with a pound of tea."

"Still, I don't see why I should alter my drumming----"

"Oh, you are stupid! Of course you admire me!"

"As he did. I see."

"You seem to think that very funny."

"Not a bit."

"Then we are agreed. There is not much fun in our talk."

"You're always so observant. There is not. Short sentences."

"And a _soupçon_ of the unexpressed."

"Which means so very much. When understood?"

She swayed from one side to the other. There was an easterly wind blowing full from the open north door of the Arcade. I looked unhappy. There is an understanding that I shall look unhappy except when I am beating my tambourine with my drumsticks.

"What was I saying before--before you--you know--oh, about our talk, of course, being rather flat and not very profitable?"

"I have no more to say," said I.

"But he was very angry, for in my fall I broke his nose."

"I have a bad nose, too."

"What's the matter with your nose?" asked the Rag Doll smiling.

"The joint is injured and some of the fur has come off my head--in fact, I am as bald as the ball of an eighteen-penny bagatelle-board," and I contrived (with the assistance of the draught) to roll away a little.

"You find carriage exercise good for your poor nose?" bubbled the Rag Doll.

Now when the Rag Doll bubbles--an operation which includes a sudden slipping down the shelf, the lighting up of glass eyes, a dart of a kid-covered arm with vague fingers, and a gurgling gust of slipping drapery--I am in the habit of ceasing to argue the question.

"Well, your fall will not damage the machinery. You have nothing to do but look--you understand. While I have to beat my tambourine with my drumsticks."

"But I won't fall upon you. I reserved my weight for the warrior that was once valued at five shillings and is now reduced to half-a-crown."

"Because you--educated him?"

"Yes. And now he cuts me dead! Why he will be bought by some one with poorer means, and will be all the more appreciated."

"Of course you did not care for the impoverished soldier?"

"Not a little bit."

"Nor any one else?"

"Oh, well----"

Then I repeated the question several times in such a way that if written a line of space would be given to every query. It was a notion of ALEXANDRE DUMAS _père_ to do the same in his novels. And his sentences were worth a franc a line. At least, so it has been related.

The Rag Doll looked straight in front of her.

"Hullo, old chappie," I said to myself; "where did you spring from?"

"Why, it's my proprietor!" said the Rag Doll, ceasing to bubble, and becoming all propriety.

The toy merchant took no notice of what we had said. How could he when our voices were inaudible? But he dusted us with his feather-brush, and left us ready for another dialogue. For all that the Rag Doll didn't think he was coming just then. No more did I.

* * * * *

* * * * *

THE TEN LITTLE MEASURES.

(_An Unionist's Forecast._)

[The measures in the Government Programme are ten in number (says the _Westminster Gazette_), viz., 1, Irish Land Reform; 2, Welsh Disestablishment; 3, Local Veto; 4, One Man, one Vote; 5, Charging Election Expenses on Rates; 6, Unification of London; 7, A Factory Bill; 8, Establishment of Conciliation Boards; 9, Completion of Scottish County Government; 10, Relief of Crofters.]

Ten little measures hung upon the line, One went up to the Lords, and then there were nine. Nine little measures asked their turn to wait, One shoved in to the front, and then there were eight. Eight little measures promising us heaven, One met a Witler host, and then there were seven. Seven little measures crossing the Lords' Styx, One of 'em tumbled in, and then there were six. Six little measures a-trying to look alive, One was talked clean off his head, and then there were five. Five little measures on the Session's lea shore, One saw GOG and MAGOG there, and then there were four. Four little measures as weak as weak could be, One o'er an Amendment tripped, and then there were three. Three little measures a-looking precious blue, One met K-R H-RD-E'S frown, and then there were two. Two little measures a-trying a last run, One of them had "special Scotch," and then there was one. One little measure then aspired to "cop the bun," H-RC-RT coolly chucked it up, and then there were None!

[_And then the Government went out, and Unionists had fun!_

* * * * *

ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.

EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M.P.

_House of Commons, Tuesday, February 5._--Almost thought just now we were going to have another BRADLAUGH business. House crowded; Members on all sides eager for the fray. At the bar, closely packed, stood group of newly-elected Members. Seen some of them here before. BROADHURST back again after what seems years of exile. ELLIOTT LEES, deep in thought as to where he shall next go for his groceries in Birkenhead, in centre of the group. The new Solicitor-General, our old friend FRANK LOCKWOOD, like a tall maple (not Sir BLUNDELL), lifts his head and smiles.

"Members desiring to take their seats will please come to the table," says the SPEAKER.

BROADHURST, in the van, sprang forward. Had made a fair start when HENRY JAMES, watchful in aerie on corner bench below gangway, leaped to feet and proposed to discuss the legality of situation. Objection founded on abstruse mathematical problem. Two writs had been moved to fill vacancies in the representation of Leicester. There had been only one election. There should, HENRY JAMES argued, have been two. Consequently, election invalid; the two new Members for Leicester not Members at all, only strangers, intruders across the bar, liable to be whipped off in custody of Sergeant-at-Arms.

Here was a pretty prospect for opening of Session to which SQUIRE OF MALWOOD had come with his pocket full of Bills! Sergeant-at-Arms glanced uneasily at BROADHURST retreating before interruption. What if repetition of the old process were imminent? Were there to be more carpet-dances on floor of House through summer afternoons, as was the wont of Captain GOSSET pirouetting to and from the Mace, House not quite sure whether he was clutching BRADLAUGH or BRADLAUGH him? Then the merry scenes in the outer hall, BRADLAUGH fighting at long odds, finally thrust down the staircase, breathless, his coat torn, his stylographic pen broken. BROADHURST a stone or two lighter than BRADLAUGH. But was he equally nimble-footed? Certainly he had not yet acquired the practice which in the second Session of the controversy enabled BRADLAUGH and the Sergeant-at-Arms to advance, retire, _chasser_, and clasp hands across the middle, in perfect time.

But a great deal has happened in the fifteen years that have sped since, from a corner seat on the side of the House facing HENRY JAMES, DRUMMOND WOLFF rose, and with emphatic gesture barred BRADLAUGH'S progress to the table. By striking coincidence that strange chapter in Parliamentary history, opening by chance accident and leading to stirring consequences, was finally closed this very night, when AKERS-DOUGLAS moved writ to fill vacancy created in South Paddington by death of "Right Hon. RANDOLPH HENRY SPENCER CHURCHILL, commonly called Lord RANDOLPH CHURCHILL."

HENRY JAMES had not concluded his sentence when SPEAKER interposed with ruling that there must be no interference with Members desiring to take their seats. So incident closed. Members for Leicester sworn in. BROADHURST, in exuberance of moment, made as though he would publicly shake the hand the clerk held out to take writ of return. But REGINALD FRANCIS DOUCE PALGRAVE not made K.C.B. for nothing. "The writ, the writ!" he hoarsely murmured, waving back the friendly hand. BROADHURST hastily produced document from breast-pocket, and thus fresh scandal was averted.

_Business done._--Address moved.

***

_Wednesday._--Exceptional interest in this afternoon's proceedings in view of circumstance that ELLIS ASHMEAD-BARTLETT (Knight)--what was it GRANDOLPH said about mediocrity with double-barrelled names?--would appear in his new character as SILOMIO. Title conferred during recess by delegates from Swaziland. Curiosity quickened by report that _début_ would be made in character. Yesterday we had mover and seconder of Address in velvet suits with silver buttons and brands Excalibur at their side. Why no _Silomio_ in the native dress of the nation that has adopted him? Some disappointment when he turned up in ordinary frock-coat. Understood that weather responsible for this. Swazi morning dress picturesque, but with nine degrees of frost in Palace Yard a little inadequate, especially for a beginner.