"SUCH A NATURE,
TICKLED WITH GOOD SUCCESS, DISDAINS THE SHADOW
WHICH HE TREADS ON AT NOON."—Coriolanus, Act I., Sc. 1.
LIEUTENANT PORTHOS, Captain ATHOS, and Major ARAMIS were delighted with the progress discernible in every detail of the battalion to which it was their honour to belong. Not a man that did not appear on parade conscious of the fact that he had made himself proficient—the privates were contented, the non-commissioned officers happy. It was, indeed, a model Regiment. On the occasion of their inspection by Colonel D'ARTAGNAN, a man marched from the ranks, and demanded a hearing.
"And what do you want?" asked the inspecting officer.
"We wish the unjust to be made just," returned the discontented one. "We ask for a reform."
PORTHOS, ATHOS, and ARAMIS would have protested, but Colonel D'ARTAGNAN motioned them to be silent. "I am here," he murmured, "to listen to complaints. I must listen to his."
"Sir," said the complainant, "we have admirable officers—the Lieutenant, the Captain, and the Major. They are always at work."
"Yes," returned Colonel D'ARTAGNAN; "and so are you."
"But we have merely to obey orders, and not to command. We feel that although we pay for everything connected with the battalion, we should do something more. We ought to subscribe a sum to pay our excellent officers for commanding us!"
And PORTHOS, ATHOS, and ARAMIS refused the suggestion, to the great disappointment of their subordinates.
LIEUTENANT PORTHOS, Captain ATHOS, and Major ARAMIS were once again being inspected by D'ARTAGNAN, now wearing the gold and crimson scarf of a general officer.
"Yes, I have a complaint to make," replied one of the rank and file, in reply to the customary interrogation. "We have three officers; but they have merely to give orders, while we have to obey them. This is unfair—unjust. We are always at work."
"Yes," returned General D'ARTAGNAN, "and so are they."
"True enough. We feel that, although they pay everything for the battalion, they should do more. They ought to compensate their excellent privates for the time we devote to obeying them."
And PORTHOS, ATHOS, and ARAMIS accepted the suggestion, to the great delight of their subordinates.
Lieutenant PORTHOS, Captain ATHOS, and Major ARAMIS were yet again on parade.
"I salute you, my friends," said Field Marshal D'ARTAGNAN, the inspecting officer. "But where is your Regiment?"
PORTHOS looked at ATHOS, and ATHOS glanced at ARAMIS. Then they replied in a breath, "It has been disbanded."
"Disbanded!" echoed D'ARTAGNAN. "But where are the accounts of the Corps?"
Then the three friends replied in a mournful tone, "Filed in the Court of Bankruptcy!"
"And what do you call this filing of officers' accounts in the Court of Bankruptcy?"
"We call it the last act of the Volunteer Movement, which, by the way, however, was not entirely voluntary!"
And the four friends having no further occupation requiring their joint attention, shook hands warmly, and parted—for ever!
He stood, as if posed by a column,
Awaiting our hostess' advance;
Complacently pallid and solemn,
He deigned an Olympian glance.
Icy cool, in a room like a crater,
He silently marched me down-stairs,
And Mont Blanc could not freeze with a greater
Assurance of grandeur and airs.
I questioned if Balliol was jolly—
"Your epithet," sighed he, "means noise.
Vile noise! At his age it were folly
To revel with Philistine boys."
Competition, the century's vulture,
Devoured academical fools;
For himself, utter pilgrim of Culture,
He countenanced none of the Schools.
Exams: were a Brummagem fashion
Of mobs and inferior taste;
They withered "Translucence" and "Passion,"
They vulgarised leisure by haste.
Self to realise—that was the question,
Inscrutable still while the cooks
Of our Colleges preached indigestion,
Their Dons indigestible books.
Two volumes alone were not bathos,
The one by an early Chinese,
The other, that infinite pathos,
Our Nursery Rhymes, if you please.
He was lost, he avowed, in this era;
His spirit was seared by the West,
But he deemed to be Monk in Madeira
Would probably suit him the best.
"Impressions of Babehood" in plenty
Succeeded, "Hot youth" and its tears,
Till I wondered if ninety or twenty
Summed up his unbearable years.
Great Heavens! I turned to my neighbour,
A SQUARSON by culture unblest;
And welcomed at length in field-labour
And foxes refreshment and rest.
QUESTION OF THE KNIGHT.—If it be true, as was mentioned in the World last week, that Mr. Justice WRIGHT has "climbed down," only to be placed upon a higher perch, will any change of name follow on the Knighthood? Will he be known as Sir ROBERT RONG, late Mr. JUSTICE WRIGHT?
THE JERRYBAND PIANO is a thundering instrument.
THE JERRYBAND PIANO should be in every Lunatic Asylum.
THE JERRYBAND PIANO.—This wonderful and unique instrument, horizontal and perpendicular Grand, five octaves, hammerless action, including keyboard, pedals, gong, peal of bells, ophicleide stop, and all the newest improvements, can be seen at Messrs. SPLITTE AND SON's Establishment, High Holborn, and purchased ON THE FIFTY YEARS' HIRE SYSTEM, by which, at a payment of 1s. 1-1/2d. a week, the piano, or what is left of it, becomes the property of the purchaser, or his heirs and executors, at the expiration of that period.
PECADILLA is a new after-dinner, home-grown Sherry, of quite extraordinary value and startling excellence.
PECADILLA is a full, fruity, gout-giving, generous, heady wine, smooth on the palate, round in the mouth, full of body, wing, character, and crust.
PECADILLA may be safely offered at funerals.
PECADILLA is a beverage for Dukes in distressed circumstances.
PECADILLA is the wine, par excellence, for the retrenching.
PECADILLA, mixed with citrate of soda, treacle, and soda-water, and drunk in the dark immediately after a glass of hot ginger brandy, will be found to possess all the quality of a low-priced Champagne.
PECADILLA is the making of an economical wedding breakfast.
PECADILLA. A few parcels of this unique and delicious Wine are still to be had of the grower, a Sicilian Count, for the moment resident in Houndsditch, at the nominal price, inclusive of the bottles, of five shillings and ninepence the dozen.
["Every minute of my time during 1891 is already mortgaged. In 1892 you may count upon me."—Mr. JEROME K. JEROME, not Mr. RUDYARD KIPLING. See "Punch," Feb. 14.]
Oh, Mr. KIPLING!—you whose pungent pen
Of pirate publishers has been the terror,
Try hard, I beg you, to forgive me, when
I openly confess I wrote in error.
It was not you by whom the deed was done.
But Mr. JEROME 'twas who wrote and said he
Could not contribute, since his Ninety-One
Was mortgaged to the Editors already.
'Twas rough on you, indeed, in such a way,
By thinking you were he, to dim your glory.
Yet pray believe I really grieve to say
I mixed you up with quite "another story"!
DRAMATIC ILLUSTRATION OF AN ADVERTISEMENT.—In one of the advertising columns of the Times the paragraph appeared one day last week. The newspaper containing it lay on the table of a drawing-room. Elderly beau was making up (he was accustomed to making-up in another sense, as his wig and whiskers could testify) to charming young lady. Such was the scene. He asked her to accept him. Her reply was to show him the heading of this advertisement in the Times:—"YOUTH WANTED." Tableau! Exit Beau. Curtain.
Oh, Canada, dear Canada, we shall not discombobulate
Ourselves concerning JONATHAN. 'Tis true he tried to rob you late
(That is if Tariff-diddling may be qualified as robbery),
But BULL has learned the wisdom of not kicking up a bobbery.
No, Canada, we love you dear, and shall be greatly gratified
If by your March Elections our relations are—say ratified.
We don't expect self-sacrifice, we do not beg for gratitude,
But keep an interested eye, my dear, upon your attitude.
Railings and ravings rantipole we hold are reprehensible,
But of our kindly kinship we're affectionately sensible.
A mother's proud to see her child learning to "run alone," you know;
But does not wish to see her "run away" from home, she'll own you know.
MACDONALD is magniloquent, perhaps a bit thrasonical;
His dark denunciations—at a distance—sound ironical.
And when we read the rows between him and Sir RICHARD CARTWRIGHT; dear,
We have our doubts if either chief quite plays the patriot part right, dear!
But there, we know that party speeches are not merum nectar, all,
And we can take the measure of magniloquence electoral;
The tipple Party Spirit men will stir and whiskey-toddy-fy,
But when they have to drink it—cold—its strength they greatly modify.
Beware the Ides of March? Oh, no! All auguries we defy, my dear!
The spectre of disloyalty don't scare us; all my eye, my dear.
So vote away, dear Canada! our faith's in friendly freedom, dear;
And croakers, Yank, or Canuck, or home-born, we shall not heed 'em, dear!
Intelligent Briton. "BUT WE HAVE NO THEATRE, NO ACTORS WORTHY OF THE NAME, MADEMOISELLE! WHY, THE ENGLISH DELIVERY OF BLANK VERSE IS SIMPLY TORTURE TO AN EAR ACCUSTOMED TO HEAR IT GIVEN ITS FULL BEAUTY AND SIGNIFICANCE BY A BERNHARDT OR A COQUELIN!"
Mademoiselle. "INDEED? I HAVE NEVER HEARD BERNHARDT OR COQUELIN RECITE ENGLISH BLANK VERSE!"
Intelligent Briton. "OF COURSE NOT. I MEAN FRENCH BLANK VERSE—THE BLANK VERSE OF CORNEILLE, RACINE, MOLIÈRE!"
Mademoiselle. "OH, MONSIEUR, THERE IS NO SUCH THING!"
House of Commons, Monday Night, February 16.—After long tarrying, House once more justified its old character. Been dolefully dull these weeks and months past. Thought it was dead; only been sleeping. To-night woke up, and audience that filled every Bench, blocked the Gangways, and thronged the Bar, had rare treat. Occasion was the indictment of Prince ARTHUR; long pending; was to have come off at beginning of Session; put off on account of counter attractions in Committee-Room No. 15; postponement no longer possible; and here we are, House throbbing with excitement, OLD MORALITY nervously clacking about Treasury Bench, bringing his chicks together under his wing. RANDOLPH brought his young beard down to witness performance.
Initial difficulty in Irish Camp; Brer FOX sitting in old place, two steps down third bench below Gangway. Brer RABBIT, sunk in profound meditation, oblivious to the rival Leader's presence, occupies corner seat; room for one between them. Who shall take it? Anxious time for TIM HEALY. Nothing he dreads so much as possibility of outbreak. In Committee-Room No. 15, Brer FOX snatched out of Brer RABBIT's hand a sheet of paper. Suppose now, in sudden paroxysm, he were to reach forth and taking Brer RABBIT by the beard bang his head against the back of the Bench? TIM's gentle nature shivered with apprehension; thing to do was to get a good plump gentleman set between the two, so that in case hostilities broke out his body might be used as buffer. Thought of ELTON first. Besides a professional desire to find occupation for Members of the Bar, ELTON's figure seemed made on purpose for the peaceful errand TIM had in mind. Broached subject. ELTON said, always happy to oblige; but was, in fact, just now retiring from Parliamentary life; didn't care to be brought into undue prominence. Besides, he belonged to other side of House; Why not try T.B. POTTER?
"The very man!" cried TIM, "I believe you and he scale the same to a pound, and though your waist is more shapely, he has the advantage in shoulders."
POTTER most obliging of men; offered no objection. So TIM conducted him to the seat; he dropped gently, but firmly in it; Brer RABBIT putting on his spectacles, and looking across the expanse of T.B.'s shoulders, thought he recognised Brer FOX at the other side. Anyhow, he was beyond speaking distance, and so embarrassment was obviated.
TIM, his mind thus at rest, able to devote his attention to debate, to progress of which, he contributed a few interjections. Finally, when Division taken on JOHN MORLEY's Motion, and everybody ready to go home, he moved and carried Adjournment of Debate.
Business done.—Prince ARTHUR indicted for breach of Constitutional Law in Ireland. Jury retired to consider their verdict. Agreed upon acquittal by 320 Votes against 245.
Tuesday.—A once familiar presence pervades House to-night. Everyone more, or less vaguely, conscious of it. Even without chancing to look up to Peers' Gallery, Members are inspired with sudden mysterious access of Moral Influence. OLD MORALITY himself, that overflowing reservoir of moral axioms, takes on an aggravated air of responsibility and respectability. Has had a great triumph which would inflate a man of less modest character. Last night, or rather early this morning, Irish Members appeared to force Government hand; just when it seemed that RUSSELL's Amendment was about to be substituted for MORLEY's Resolution, TIM HEALY interposed, moved Adjournment of Debate; OLD MORALITY protested; SEXTON slily threatened all-night sitting; after an hour's struggle, Government capitulated; Adjournment agreed to; Irish Members went off jubilant.
To-night SEXTON asks OLD MORALITY when they shall resume debate?
"Ah," says OLD MORALITY, with look of friendly interest, as if the idea had struck him for the first time, "yes; just so. The Hon. Member wants to know when we shall resume the debate, the adjournment of which he and his friends were instrumental in carrying at an early hour this morning. Well, I must say, on the part of Her Majesty's Government, that we are perfectly satisfied with matters as they were left. We had a lively debate, a majority much larger than we had dared to hope for, and, as far as we are concerned, I think we'll leave matters alone. As one of our great prose-writers observed, it is, on the whole, more conducive to comfort to endure any inconveniences that may press upon one at the current moment, than to hasten to encounter others with the precise nature of which we do not happen to be acquainted."
GRAND CROSS missed this delightful little episode, not coming in till questions were over. Now he sat in Peers' Gallery and gazed through spectacles on scene of earlier triumphs. Looks hardly a day older than when he left us; the same perky manner, the same wooden visage, with its pervading air of supreme self-satisfaction and inscrutable wisdom. It is a night given up to Indian topics. PLOWDEN, in his quiet, effective way, has just carried Motion which will have substantial effect in the direction of securing fuller debate of Indian questions. GORST, standing at table replying to BUCHANAN on another Indian topic, alludes with deferential tone to "the SECRETARY OF STATE." GRAND CROSS almost audibly purrs from his perch in the Gallery.
"An odd world, my masters," says the Member for SARK, striding out impatiently, "when you have a man like GORST Under-Secretary, with a man like GRAND CROSS at the Head of the Department."
Business done.—An hour or two given to India.
Thursday.—Army Estimates on to-night. HANBURY comes to the front, as usual. STANHOPE tossing about on Treasury Bench, in considerable irritation.
"What's the use, my ST. JOHN," he asked BRODRICK, the only man standing by him, "of a family arrangement like ours, if one is subjected to annoyance like this? With one brother in the Peers, a pillar of staid Conservatism; with myself on the Treasury Bench, a Cabinet Minister, a right-hand man of the Government: and then, final touch, old PHILIP EGALITÉ below the Gangway opposite, with his Radicalism, and his tendency to out-JACOBY LABOUCHERE. This is a broad-based family combination, that ought to make us, each in his way, irresistible. And yet there seems nothing to prevent a fellow like HANBURY looking down from his six feet two scornfully on a British soldier not more than five feet four in his stocking-feet, whilst he inflates his chest, and asks, in profound bass notes, how are the ancient glories of the British Army to be maintained with men who cannot stretch the tape at thirty-six inches?"
When HANBURY sat down, after pounding away in ponderous style for nearly an hour, STANHOPE got up and prodded him reproachfully. Wonderful how much vinegar and vitriol he managed to distil into his oft-repeated phrase, "My honourable friend!" As for HANBURY, he sat with hands in pocket, staring at empty benches opposite, amazed at his own moderation.
Hours of the usual kind of talk on Army Estimates; the Colonels, Volunteer and otherwise, showing that the Army is as GILL (who has recently spent some time in Boulogne) says, en route pour les chiens; the SECRETARY of State for WAR demonstrating that everything is in apple-pie order, and his right honourable predecessor on the Front Opposition Bench bearing testimony to the general state of efficiency.
WOLMER flashed through the haze a word that has long wanted saying in the House. Why, he asked, place sentries surrounding St. James's Palace, the War Office, and the Horse Guards? Why, if presence of armed men at these particular gateways is essential to proper conduct of affairs of Department—why should Charity Commissioners and Education Office be left unguarded? WOLMER should keep pegging away at this question till he gets common-sense answer.
Business done.—Army Estimates moved.
Friday.—Gallant little Wales took the floor to-night. Wants the Church Disestablished; PRITCHARD MORGAN, in speech of prodigious length, asked House to sanction the proposal. The Government, determined to oppose Motion, cast about for Member of their body who could best lead opposition. Hadn't a Welshman on the Treasury Bench.
"There's RAIKES, you know," AKERS-DOUGLAS said, discussing the matter with OLD MORALITY. "He's not exactly a Welshman, but, when he's at home, he lives in Denbighshire, which is as near being Wales as you can get. Besides, his postal address is Llwynegrin."
"Ah!" said OLD MORALITY, "that looks well. He's not the rose, but he lives in convenient contiguity to the flower."
So RAIKES was put up, and a nice, peaceful, soothing, insinuating, conciliatory speech he made. In fact, as the Member for SARK says, "He got gallant little Wales down on its back, tied its horns and heels together, partially flayed it, and then rubbed in cunningly contrived combination of Cayenne pepper and vinegar."
Business done.—Welsh Disestablishment Motion negatived by 235 Votes to 203.
GRANT-ALLEN,—his manner moves cynics to mirth!—
Makes out that the Celt is the Salt of the Earth.
That accounts, it may be, for his dominant fault;
A "salt of the earth" has a taste for assault!
DEAR MR. PUNCH,—You are so awfully good to chaps at school that I am sure you will insert this letter. SMITH MINOR, who takes in the Times, says, that a "PARENT" has been writing to say, that there should be a meeting of Fathers to swagger over the meeting of Head Masters. Well, this wouldn't be half a bad idea if it were properly conducted; but the "PARENT" seems to be a beast of a governor, who wants to cut down the holidays, and such like rot. And this brings me to what I want to propose myself. If there are to be meetings of Head Masters and Parents, why not a meeting of Boys? We have a heap of grievances. For instance, lots of chaps would like to know why "the water" was stopped at Westminster, and something about the domestic economy of Harrow. Then the great and burning question of grub is always ready to hand. The "PARENT" wants to have a hand in the payment for school-books, seeing his way to getting the discount (stingy chap!) then why shouldn't we fellows have a voice choosing them? Then about taking up Greek, why shouldn't we have our say in that matter? After all, it interests us more than anyone else, as we are the fellows that will have to learn it, if it is to be retained. Then about corporal punishment. Not that we mind it much, still we are the fellows who get swished at Eton, and feel the tolly at Beaumont. Surely the Boys know more about a licking than Head Masters and Parents? You, as a practical man, will say, "Who should attend the Congress?" I reply, every public school might send a delegate; and by public school, I do not limit the term to the old legitimate "E. and the two W.'s," Eton, Winchester and Westminster. No; I would throw it open to such respectable educational establishments as Harrow, Rugby, Charterhouse, St. Paul's, Marlborough, Felsted, Cheltenham, Stonyhurst, and the rest of them. The more the merrier, say I; and if there was a decided division of opinion on any subject, we could settle the matter off-hand at once, by taking off our jackets and turning up our shirt-sleeves. The more I think of it, the more I like it! It would be a game!
[Russia is said to be threatening the old Finnish laws and liberties.]
Russia snubs him who, as a candid friend,
Horrors Siberian, Hebrew would diminish.
Must Muscovites prove tyrants to the end?
At least they aim to prove so to the Finnish!
NOTICE.—Rejected Communications or Contributions, whether MS., Printed Matter, Drawings, or Pictures of any description, will in no case be returned, not even when accompanied by a Stamped and Addressed Envelope, Cover, or Wrapper. To this rule there will be no exception.