Chapter 2

I was now losing heart, when, to my great joy, I came upon "the White Kangaroo, the Laughing Jackasses, &c.," all of which were to be seen "free gratis and for nothing." It is right, however, that I should add that I found some difficulty in distinguishing "the White Kangaroo" from "the Laughing Jackasses," and both from "&c." I now made for Mlle. PAULA's Crocodiles, but here, again, alas! I was doomed to disappointment. As I approached the Reptile-House, in which the fair dame was disporting herself (no doubt) amongst "Indian Pythons and Boa Constrictors," I was warned off by the legend, "Admission, Sixpence." It was then I remembered that, after all, I was in an Aquarium, and, consequently, had no right to expect anything but fish. So I approached the tanks, and, to my great delight, found in one of them some floating bodies, that I am almost sure must have been herrings. Having thus gratified my curiosity for the strange and the curious, I returned, well satisfied, to the country, where I purpose remaining a further term of next twenty years. In the meanwhile, believe me, Dear _Mr. Punch_,

Yours sincerely, ONE EASILY PLEASED.

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Something very big.--"The principal _rôle (Falstaff_), in VERDI's new comic Opera is amplified and enlarged," writes a special Correspondent to _The Standard_, "from the _Falstaff_ of the other plays (besides the _Merry Wives_) in which he takes a part." "Takes a part!" Good Heavens! _Falstaff_ "amplified and enlarged" will be something more than a part. It will be that mathematical impossibility, "a part greater than the whole." Surely, with such a _rôle_ in it, this can't be a light Opera.

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OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.

_Golden Bells_, rung by DEAN AND SON,--quite appropriately ecclesiastical this,--and edited by Mrs. ELIZABETH DAY, will ring forth peals of delight in the nursery, it being the Christmas number of _The Little One's Own Paper_.

_Arrowsmith's Christmas Annual_, by WALTER BESANT, bears the cheerful and seasonable title of "_The Demoniac_."

Mr. HYNE's _Four Red Nightcaps_ is somewhat in the style of _Three Men in a Boat_, only there are "Four men in a Yacht."

Most of the Magazines have their special numbers of these. _The English Illustrated Harper's_, _The Century_, are got up with the most charming illustrations.

_The Gentlewoman_ has her first Christmas Number, and,--so like her!--a coloured satin picture! _The Pictorial World_ has two good pictures for framing.

The Baron liketh much the latest contribution to the Rosslyn Series, edited by Earl HODGSON, who is of the Peerage of Parnassus, as you won't find this Earl in _Brett's Peerage_. The Baron congratulates the Earl, and has also sent an order for a pound of laurels wherewith to decorate the brow of WALTER HERRIES POLLOCK. Among the many gems of his songs let me select "A Continuation"--there would have been "a pair of continuations," could he have rivalled himself; then "_Lalage_," and "_The Chansonnette_," which, with "_Rizzio to Marie Stuart_," ought to be set to music by a gifted composer. There are also some delightful verses to "_Old Court Trinity_," which will delight all Trinitarians of Cambridge--"_cum multis aliis_"--to quote the ancient Roman singer, so, as a short way with our Poet POLLOCK, the classic Baron, remembering how the ancients swore "By Pollux!" adapts the ejaculation, and says, "Buy POLLOCK's--book."

All Meredithians must possess _George Meredith, Some Characteristics, by Richard Le Gallienne_. The book is a complete and excellent guide to the novelist and the novels, a sort of Meredithian _Bradshaw_, with pictures of the traffic superintendent, and of the head office at Boxhill. Even Philistines may be won over by the blandishments of Mr. Le GALLIENNE, from whom I learn, by the way, that GEORGE MEREDITH is "the HARVEY of the Ego," and that he is not ADRIAN HARLEY. I hear, also, that "daily, from one quarter or another, come critical cuff and kick, to impress upon a numb public the latest example of its immemorial purblindness." And the Baron adds this cufflet to the rest. Mr. JOHN LANE has added a Bibliography, which is a model of minute industry. So here's to the book of RICHARD and JOHN.

Among the Arts for obvious reasons not known to Ancient Greece is _The Art of Cooking by Gas_. In a little book under this title, published by CASSELL, Mrs. SUGG has undertaken to disclose its mysteries, and set forth its attractions. No one could be better qualified for the task, since Mrs. SUGG is the wife of WILLIAM SUGG of Charing Cross, who has thrown more light on Modern London than CAMDEN did on its ancient ways. Cooking by gas, Mrs. SUGG shows, is cleaner, cheaper, more convenient, and more artistic than the older style. So widely is the practice now established, that gas-cooking apparatus are made to suit all conditions of life, from the kitchen of the Grand Hotel to the "Little Connaught," which you can (if you like) carry about in your waistcoat-pocket; yet when properly extended it will roast fowls, and small joints, grill chops, steaks, and fish, boil eggs, and vegetables, and keep a large family in hot water. "To gentlemen residing in Chambers, or those reading for the Bar," Mrs. SUGG writes of another treasure, "this little kitchener with the two grillers will prove a great boon." If Sir HENRY JAMES had really been going to the Bench, he could not have done better than study this book, and set himself up with a "Little Connaught" or a "Double Griller." Since that is not the case, it may be asked, Would they be worth the LORD CHANCELLOR's attention? We unhesitatingly reply, "Why, Sugg'nly!"

"Are you asleep, BUCHANAN?" inquired ARCHER. This is the first sentence of a shilling novel, by BUTIFFE SKOTTOWE, with a very sensational picture on the cover. I "read no more that day," but closed the book, dreading lest, of the two figures on the thrilling frontispiece, one should be _the_ BUCHANAN, and the other _the_ only ARCHER in the world of Ibsenish proclivities.

THE BARON DE BOOK-WORMS & CO.

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STRUCTURAL IMPROVEMENTS IN A THEATRE.--Mr. NORMAN FORBES opens the Globe. The seats are so constructed, that they can be taken outside the theatre. Also, any person who has purchased a numbered seat need not come to the theatre to occupy it. The seats are so made as to be equally comfortable for big and little persons--for the former, they can be let out.

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A CRY FROM THE CINDER-PATH.

DEAR MR. PUNCH,

I must appeal to you, the unimpeachable Cæsar, in athletics as in all other matters, to secure me some small meed of public sympathy and consideration. During the, happily, almost past year, I have been the victim of gross ill-treatment at the hands, nay, worse, the feet, of athletes of various kinds. I have been cut in public by some of the best performers; I have been mercilessly beaten, and persistently lowered, till it is a wonder to myself that I have any self-respect left. I am too good a sportsman at least, Sir, to complain of rough usage in a fair way, but while I must suffer for the ambition of every ped. and every wheel-man, my colleague and close relation, who is generally known as "The Standard," is put higher and higher, without really doing anything at all to deserve his elevation. I have had the people all shouting about me; I have been the subject of columns of statistical gush in the Sporting Press, and now I am constrained to appeal to a non-professional for bare justice in my crippled old age. Wishing you a happier New Year than the old one has been to me, I am yours, in disgust,

A SMASHED RECORD.

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LONDON METEORILLOGICAL ARRANGEMENTS.

(FOR THE WINTER.)

_CLERK OF WEATHER OFFICE._

_Monday_ {Frost. N.E. wind. Light fall of Snow. N. wind. {Change at night to S. Thaw. Slosh. _Tuesday_ Fog. E. wind. _Wednesday_ Thicker fog. N.E. wind. Frost. _Thursday_ Thicker fog. E. wind. _Thursday Night._ Fog. Frost. N. wind. _Friday & Friday Night_ Snow. N. wind. Sudden change to S.W. wind. _Saturday_ Sun for two hours. Horrid slosh. _Sunday_ Drizzle. Rain for one day. _Monday_ Hard frost. N.E. wind. Traffic almost impossible. _Tuesday and following days_ (_Da capo, with a few variations_.)

* * * * *

A MUSICAL NOTE.

Very fine performance by Royal Choral Society, at my little place in Kensington, on Wednesday evening, Dec. 10th, of MACKENZIE's "_Rose of Sharon_." Everything _couleur de Rose_, except the atmosphere, which was _couleur de pea-soup_. Weather responsible for a certain number of empty stalls in my hall. Madame ALBANI in excellent voice--sang throughout gloriously. E.L., the Squire of Hall Barn, says that, when the eminent soprano sings at his place, he shall announce her as Madame HALLBARNI. HILDA WILSON first-rate in "_Lo! the King!_" LLOYD as good as ever; can't say more. The duets between him and ALBANI, perfection. WATKIN MILLS, an impressive _Solomon_, sang the difficult music of that character artistically. The Chorus superb in one of finest choruses, written by an English composer, "_Make a joyful Noise_"--very joyful noise they made, and a considerable one. I consider the "_Rose of Sharon_" a masterpiece, and the greatest work of any Englishman--and, now I come to think of it, MACKENZIE's a Scotchman. Yours truly, ALBERT HALL.

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PARS ABOUT PICTURES.--On to DOWDESWELL's--Pictures by the Newlyn School. Interesting show this--especially good in landscapes. Disappointed there is no picture of the town of Par, whence the O.P.'s ancestors came. However, let that pass. Ladies, first,--there is excellent work by Mrs. STANHOPE FORBES, Mrs. GOTCH, Miss HAYES, Miss FORD, and Miss BIRD; and, be it said with all politeness, equally excellent work by Messrs. STANHOPE FORBES, TITCOMBE, A.C. TAYLER, and others. A good many of the tin mines of Cornwall are said to be worked out, but I think not a few of our young artists have found a mine of tin in this picturesque country, which they are working both to their own advantage, and that of the Art-loving public. In the same gallery may be found a small collection of pastels by Mr. JAMES GUTHRIE. This artist seems to thoroughly understand the scope of pastel--and has walked his chalks about Scotland to considerable purpose. OLD PAR.

* * * * *

"AWAY WITH MELANCHOLY."--Nothing in Nature and Art combined is so sad as the effect of a Street Minstrel playing something with flourishes on a clarinet under the windows of your study during a yellow London fog. "This way madness lies."

* * * * *

"BOXING-DAY" will, of course, be kept with great festivity at the Pelican Club. The contests will be of the friendliest character, and will be genially announced as "Kiss-in-the-Ring."

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* * * * *

THE BABES IN THE WOOD;

OR, THE ST. STEPHEN'S TRAGEDY.

_AN OLD (INGOLDSBYISH) SONG, TO A NEW (IRISH) TUNE._

When M.P.'s were all honest and good, (A long time ago, I'm afraid, Ma'am), We heard of the Babes in the Wood, Who were jockeyed, misled, and betrayed, Ma'am. Well, history, so we are told, Repeats itself--varying slightly-- Once again two poor Babes have been--_sold_, Let us say, just to put it politely. Rum tiddy-um, tiddy-um-tay!

Two innocent cherubs they were, Master GLADDY, and young Miss MOORLEENA; Such sweet little souls to ensnare,-- Why, no conduct could well have been meaner. But all things went well for a time; The parties they trusted made much of them; Little they fancied that crime Would ever attempt to get clutch of them. Rum tiddy, &c.

All the same, Ma'am, before very long, The Babes found themselves in the Wood. It Was that which is known in Erse song As the Wood of Shillelagh. Now could it Be thought that two brave Oirish bhoys Might be found so confoundedly cruel As to rob two wee bairns of their toys, And then give the poor darlings their "gruel"? Rum tiddy, &c.

But somehow one of them fell out With his whilom pet Babe, little GLADDY, Looked on him with anger and doubt, And conspired to destroy him, poor laddie! It seems that the once-admired "kid" Was a Turk, and a rogue, and a pickle, Who wouldn't do what he was bid, But was talkative, tricky, and fickle. Rum tiddy, &c.

Clear case of the Wolf and the Lamb! Said the Wolf, "I dislike, and distrust him. His innocence is but a sham. I mean having the bleed of him, bust him!" (Such language sounds vulgar and coarse, And to put it in poesy's painful; But KIPLING will tell you that force Of taste must be sometimes disdainful.) Rum tiddy, &c.

Little GLADDY, he turned up his eyes To his guide's now most truculent visage, And feelings of doubt and surprise Took hold on him, trying at _his_ age. Cried he, "Go away, Naughty Man! MOORLEENA, this fellow's a rogue, he Will kill us, I'm sure, if he can, For his face looks as black as Old Bogey!" Rum tiddy, &c.

Oh, then the First Robber looked mad, And he ups, and says he to the Second, "This impudent bit of a lad No more a safe pal can be reckoned. Get him out of our way, or the swag Will not be worth much when allotted. MOORLEENA's small weasand _you_ scrag, Whilst _I_ cut young BILLY's carotid!" Rum tiddy, &c.

"Ha! stop!" cried the milder of mood, "Your conduct is savage and silly. They will search for _these_ Babes in _this_ Wood, And there'll be a big row about BILLY. Don't fancy you'll finish this job When you've scragged 'em and stifled their sobbins'! If these Babes we should murder and rob, _Their_ graves won't be left to the Robins!" Rum tiddy, &c.

Of course after language like this Those Robbers' relations grew "squiffy." Each drew, cut and thrust, scored a miss, And then they set-to in a jiffy. The Babes, in no optimist mood, Look on at the fight not unequal. Will they safely get out of the Wood? Well, that we shall see in the sequel! Rum-tiddy-um, tiddy-um-tay!

* * * * *

AN Anglo-Indian journal, quoted by the _Daily News_, suggests that the Ameer of Afghanistan "might construct a telegraph line throughout his country." Good idea. Of course it is A-meer suggestion.

* * * * *

NO MORE APPEALS! NO CHANCE OF AN ERRONEOUS JUDGMENT!! NO WRONG SENTENCES!!!--The new Judge must be always WRIGHT. Query--Can he sit in Error?

* * * * *

NAUTICAL AND ACADEMICAL QUESTION, IMPORTANT FOR MARINE PAINTERS.--How much water must such an Artist draw before he is admitted into the Royal Academy Harbour?

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* * * * *

THE HIBERNIAN BRER FOX; OR, UNCLE REMUS IN IRELAND.

"Now, 'bout dat time, honey," pursued Uncle REMUS, "Brer Fox he lay low pooty well all der time."

"Why was that?" asked the little boy.

"Dat," replied the old man, "was des w'at his frends wanted fer ter know. But Brer Fox, he ain't sayin' nuthin'. Den dey sorter dallo roun' waiting fo' Brer Fox. En dey keep on waitin', but no Brer Fox ain't come."

"What was Brer Fox doing all this time?" asked the little boy.

"Oh, well den!" exclaimed the old man, "chilluns can't speck ter know all 'bout eve'ything. And bless grashus, honey! some er der doin's er Brer Fox 'bout dis yer time ain't fit fer chilluns _ter_ know. Brer Fox, I'm feared, wuz kinder simpertin' roun' atter udder people's prop'ty, and dat's des why he lay low, en ain't say nuthin'."

"However," pursued the old man, after a pause,--

"'De place wharbouts you spill de grease, Right dar youer boun' ter slide.'

And bimeby Brer Fox he sorter slid up _ker-slump_, he did, on his own slide, an' his frens dey done 'fuse m'on m'on to live naberly wid him, see'n ez he'd done broke der laws er naberly conduc' as der beastesses hold 'em. En Brer Rabbit--Ole Man Rabbit, as dey call him--he up en he sez, sezee, I ain't gwineter 'sociate long er no Brer Foxes no mo', he sez; 'taint 'spectubble, he sez. An' nex time Brer Rabbit met Brer Fox, Brer Rabbit 'fuse ter 'spon ter his howdy, and dis make Brer Fox feel mighty bad, seein' ez how dey useter make so many scurshuns togedder.

"Hol' on dar, Brer Rabbit!" sez Brer Fox, sezee.

"I ain't got time, Brer Fox," says Brer Rabbit, sezee, kinder mendin' his licks.

"I wanter have some confab wid you, Brer Rabbit," says Brer Fox, sezee.

"All right, Brer Fox, but you had better holler fum whar' you stan'," sez Brer Rabbit, "so's der res' may hear. I sorter members der las' time we confabbed togedder, sezee, when we war des as soshubble ez er basket er kittens, twel bimeby you kinder went down to der bottom kerblunkity-blunk, and den you sorter rounded on _me_ 'bout der privit palaver, en I des don't like der way ez der sym'tums seem to segashuate," says Brer Rabbit, sezee.

"Youer stuck up, dat's w'at you is, but you ain't gwineter boss _me_," says Brer Fox, sezee.

Brer Rabbit, he sorter chuckle in his stummuck, he did, but he ain't sayin' nuthin'.

"I'm gwineter larn you howter talk ter 'spectubble fokes if hit's der las' ack," says Brer Fox, sezee. "Ef you don't take off dat hat, and tell me howdy, I'm gwineter to bus' you wide open, sezee, ef I busses myself at der same time," sezee.

Den Brer Rabbit he fotch up on his behime legs like he wuz 'stonished, but he stan' on his dignitude, and he ain't sayin' nuthin!

Den Brer Fox get mighty mad. Der never wuz a madder beas' dan he wuz des den. He rip, en he r'ar, en he cuss, en he swar, he snort, en he cavort.

"What was he doing that for, Uncle REMUS?" the little boy inquired.

"Bress you' soul, he wuz tryin' fer tar fling Brer Rabbit off'n his dignitude," answered the old man.

"And did he succeed?" pursued the little lad.

"Dat's all de fur de tale goes--at present," replied the old man. "How de onfrennelness eventuated, I may tell you anudder time. But, as I tell you, Brer Rabbit wuz a monstus soon beas'; and, when Brer Fox look mighty biggity, atter cuttin' up mighty small, en loup roun' and make faces at all de beastesses, en sorter rustle roun' like he wuz gwinter bus' eberything, why den, honey, fokes is apt to look on him as kinder splummy-splummy, atter all, en his enfloons bimeby is boun' to be pow'ful lackin'."

* * * * *

THAT FOOT-BALL.

_AN ATHLETIC FATHER'S LAMENT._

What was it made me cricket snub, And force my seven sons to subsidize a local "Rugby" Club? That Foot-ball!

Yet, what first drew from me a sigh, When TOM, my eldest, missed a "try," But got instead a broken thigh! That Foot-ball!

What in my second, stalwart JACK, Caused some inside machine to crack, And kept him ten months on his back--? That Foot-ball!

What brought my third, unhappy TED, To fade and sink, and keep his bed, And finally go off his head?-- That Foot-ball!

My fourth and fifth, poor JOHN and JIM, What made the sight of one so dim? What made the other lack a limb? That Foot-ball!

Then FRANK, my sixth, who cannot touch The ground unaided by a crutch, Alas! of what had he too much? That Foot-ball!

The seventh ends the mournful line, Poor STEPHEN with his fractured spine. A debt owe these good sons of mine, That Foot-ball!

And as we pass the street-boys cry, "Look at them cripples!" I but sigh, "You're right, my friends. But would you fly A lot like ours; uh, do not try That Foot-ball!"

* * * * *

OUR ADVERTISERS.

SEASONABLE AND OTHER.

SCARIFICO is a non-emollient, detergent, case-hardening, and scouring soap polish.

* * * * *

SCARIFICO will instantly give the finest complexion the consistency of hardened wash-leather.

* * * * *

SCARIFICO, used recklessly and freely, will rapidly flay the reigning beauty.

* * * * *

SCARIFICO, if applied as a head-wash, entirely removes all the hair.

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SCARIFICO should be tried on the young infant with caution.

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SCARIFICO, though regarded as an adjunct to the toilette-table, will be found more useful in removing the rust from old fire-irons.

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SCARIFICO, if used inadvertently in the ordinary course as toilette soap, will frequently remove the entire skin of the face on one application.

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SCARIFICO will be found useful in the weekly bath of the rhinoceros.

* * * * *

SCARIFICO.--Dr. BLINKORN, M.R.S.V.P., writes:--"I have analysed a sample of 'Scarifico' sent me, and I find it a hap-hazard compound, in which suspended fats, brick-dust, fuller's earth, road-sweepings, and the bi-phosphates of soda are indiscriminately mixed. I cannot say whether it would be found a 'comfortable and cleansing preparation for the infant's skin,' as claimed by the proprietors, but should be more inclined to recommend it as an 'efficient mud-remover from cart-wheels and cleaning of ships' foul bottoms,' to its capabilities for which purposes they also direct the attention of their customers."

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£16,000 URGENTLY wanted for a few hours in a friendly spirit. As every confidence will be placed in the lender, no inquiries will be made or expected. Moreover, this being a purely unprofessional, but strictly business transaction, as between gentleman and gentleman, no amount of interest will be objected to, and no agents will be treated with. N.B.--If lender is unable at a moment's notice to raise so large a sum, a few shillings in advance per postal order, if merely as a guarantee of good faith, can be forwarded on account, and will be acknowledged with thanks.

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THE POETRY OF WINTER.--Rime. And it might be werse.

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* * * * *

ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.

EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF TOBY, M.P.

_House of Commons, Monday, December 8_.--Prince ARTHUR came down to House this afternoon, with light heart, and unwrinkled brow. The first section of Session was drawing to a close; truly a wonderful time. OLD MORALITY, in arranging for its disposal, had, as usual, taken a sanguine view of his opportunities, and had crammed the space with work to be done. There were the Tithes Bill and the Land Purchase Bill, ineffectually struggled over last Session, and finally abandoned. There was the Railways Bill, successfully obstructed last Session, leading, on one occasion, to an All-night Sitting; and there was the Seed Potato Bill, innocent enough in appearance, but, like all Irish measures, capable of blossoming into portentous things. But everything had gone smoothly. Here was the 8th of December, not quite a fortnight after opening of Session, and appointed work nearly finished. To-night would read a Second Time second portion of Land Bill, and then, hey, for the Christmas holidays!