When a Stag has once been uncarted, and has been given so many minutes law to get away, the Huntsman may correctly allude to him as "The Deer Departed."
Davy Jones. "AHA! SO LONG AS THEY STICK TO THEM OLD CHARTS, NO FEAR O' MY LOCKER BEIN' EMPTY!!"
(Scene from that new Screaming Farce "The Political Box and Cox.")
["Mr. GLADSTONE (says the Daily Chronicle) has effected a formal reconciliation with the Member for Northampton. He visited Mr. and Mrs. LABOUCHERE, took tea with them, and had a long and very cordial interview. So far, indeed, as Mr. LABOUCHERE ever had any personal feeling in reference to his exclusion from the Ministry, it may be regarded as dead."]
Box. Although we are not destined to occupy the same—ahem!—Cabinet Council Chamber—at present, I don't see any necessity for our cutting each other's political throat, Sir.
Cox. Not at all. It's an operation that I should decidedly object to.
Box. And, after all, I've no violent animosity against you, Sir.
Cox. Nor have I any rooted antipathy to you. Sir.
Box. Besides, it was all—ahem!—Mrs.—ahem's fault, Sir!
Cox (embarrassed). Well—ahem!—my—er—loyalty—as a man of honour—to—er—that lady, Sir, forbids, Sir, my saying, or—er—permitting to be said——
[Gradually approaching chairs.
Box. Ah, exactly, I quite understand that. The truth is——
Cox (quickly). A most excellent thing, in its way. I always see it.
Box. Very well, Sir!
Cox. Very well, Sir! [Pause.
Box. Take a little jam, Sir!
Cox. Thank you, Sir!
[Taking a spoonful. Pause.
Box. Do you sing, Sir?
Cox (modestly). I have, in days gone by, done a little Negro Minstrelsy.
Box. Then give us a breakdown. (Pause.) Well, well, perhaps the suggestion's a little inopportune. What is your opinion of smoking, Sir? [Produces cigarette.
Cox (tartly). I think it is a pestilent practice, Sir!
Box (puffing). So do some other singular people, Sir. To be sure, they may not so much object to it if the pipes are not loaded.
Cox. No—I daresay that does make some difference.
Box. And yet, Sir, on the other hand, doesn't it strike you, as rather a waste of time, for people to keep puffing away at pipes (or Programmes) with nothing in 'em?
Cox (drily). No, Sir—not more than any other harmless recreation—such, for instance, as posing as a Party leader, without any Party.
Box (aside). Some of his own Party may be found a bit shaky. Next time I invite him, it may be to tea—and turn-out!
Cox (aside). Let him put that in his pipe (or cigarette) and smoke it!
Box (aloud). Well, well, now we so thoroughly understand each other, what—even Programmes—shall part us?
Cox. Who—even—ahem! a certain Party, shall tear us asunder?
Box. Cox!
Cox. Box!
[About to embrace. Box stops, seizes Cox's hand, and looks eagerly in his face.
Box. You'll excuse the apparent insanity of the remark, but the more I gaze on your features, the more I'm convinced that you'd never be such a suicidal idiot as to—seek another Chamber?
Cox (winking). Walker!
Box. Ah—tell me—in mercy tell me—have you such a thing as the "Strawberry Leaves" in your eye?
Cox. No!
Box. Then we are brothers!
[They rush into each other's arms.
Cox. Of course, we stop where we are?
Box. Of course!
Cox. For between you and me, I'm rather partial to the House.
Box. So am I—I feel quite at home in it.
Cox. Everything so clean and comfortable!
Box. And I'm sure its Mistress, Mrs.—ahem!—from what little I've seen of her, is very anxious to do her best.
Cox. So she is—and I vote, Box, that we stand by her!
Box. Agreed! (winks.) There's my hand upon it—join but yours—agree that the House is big enough to hold us both, then Box——
Cox. And Cox——
Both. Are satisfied!
[Curtain.
Sir,—Will you permit me to protest against the shocking insecurity of life and property in London? What are the Police doing? Only yesterday I was walking, in the middle of the day, in a rather quiet road in this suburb, when a highway robber, disguised as an ordinary beggar, asked me for a copper! His look was most forbidding, and he put his hand under his coat in a way that convinced me he was about to draw a revolver! I at once gave him my purse, with half-a-crown in it, which seemed to pacify him, and I am convinced that I owe my life to my presence of mind. The shock, however, has quite prostrated me, and my medical adviser has already paid me three visits, on the strength of it, and says I need "careful watching for some time." He has very kindly put off a holiday, in order to watch me, which is sufficient to prove what a diabolical outrage I have been the victim of!
Yours, indignantly,
Cozynook, Sydenham. Tabitha Grundy.
Dear Mr. Punch,—We are coming to a really awful state of things in the Strand! A friend of mine (who does not wish his name mentioned) assures me that he was proceeding from the Gaiety Restaurant, where he had been lunching, towards Charing Cross, when he was "attacked by Vertigo" in broad day-light! Comment is needless. If dangerous foreign bandits like this VERTIGO—who from his name must be an Italian—are permitted to plunder innocent pedestrians with impunity, the sooner we abolish our Police Force and save the expense, the better.
No Alarmist.
Dear Ed'tor,—I write you a line to say I've jus' been 'sulted—grossly 'sulted—on Thames 'Bankmen'. Walkin' 'long—quite shober—sud'ly 'costed by man dressed like 'pleeceman. Said "lot bad krakters about"—took hold of my arm—wanted see me into cab. I saw through him at once. It was a plot! Wanted steal vabblewatch—forshately lef' watch home. Angry at not findin' watch—bundled me into cab anyhow—feel 'fects still. Whash Scolland Yard 'bout? Are spekbull citizens to be 'sulted by pleece—by me'dress-li'pleece, I mean? It's all true 'bout Lunn' bein' most unsafe. Norra word' of 'xagg'ration! Cre' 'xperto. Thash Latin!—Shows I'm spekbull. No more now! He'ache.
Yours, Rum Punch.
The following mysterious advertisement is cut from the Grantham Journal:—
WANTED, to Purchase, a HALF-LEGGED Horse, five years old, suitable for Building work, about 16 hands.—Address, &c.
Is the horse to have two legs? Not on all fours with nature? And the sixteen hands? Compensation for want of legs? Give it up!
(By Our Own Prophetic Reporter.)
A few days since a "Grand Intellectual Fête" was given by the Flower League in advancement of the Patriotic Cause, in the grounds of the Duke of Ditchwater. The Railway Companies afforded unusual facilities for securing a large gathering, and there was much enthusiasm amongst those who were present. To meet the requirements of decisions arrived at during the trial of recent Election Petitions, it was arranged that some one competent to undertake the task should introduce and explain the various distractions afforded for the entertainment of the very numerous company. Mr. A. Briefless, Junior, Barrister, of London, kindly consented to act as lecturer, his professional engagements fortunately allowing him leisure to assume such a responsibility.
The Lecturer said that he was delighted to see so large a gathering. (Cheers.) They quite reminded him of the clients who thronged his passage on the first day of Term, waiting for his chamber doors to open. (Laughter.) There was nothing in the remark he had just made to provoke merriment. He wished it to be clearly understood that he appealed to their reason. (Cheers.) It had been objected that some of the entertainments given at what had been called political pic-nics had nothing to do with the reasoning faculties of the spectators. This he emphatically denied. (Applause.) Without wasting further of their time—("No, no!" "Go on.")—he would come to his first illustration—the Bounding Brothers of Bohemia. (Great cheering.) It was advisable that the bodies as well as the minds of children educated by the School-Boards should receive attention. Their bodies should be brought to as near perfection as possible; every muscle should be brought into play. To explain his meaning, he called upon the Bounding Brothers of Bohemia to illustrate the poetry of motion.
Upon this, five gentlemen in tights (understood to be the athletic kindred to whom the Lecturer had referred) performed a series of feats of strength, which included standing on one another's heads, jumping through hoops, and turning quadruple somersaults.
After their performances were over Mr. Briefless resumed.
The Lecturer said: He next wished to appeal to their reason—to challenge, so to speak, their senses on the power of foreign opinion. It was asserted that an Englishman cared only for his native land and the Press appertaining thereto. Now he (the Lecturer) had the greatest respect for the English Press—(cheers)—still he found that some of our foreign contemporaries were nearly as good. ("Hear, hear!") He wished to introduce the Signora Mantilla from Spain—(applause)—who had consented to sing a political song in Spanish, emphasizing her opinions by a dance after each verse. (Great cheering.) The Signora Mantilla then gave a demonstration, which was much appreciated.
The Lecturer resumed. He said he had not insulted their intelligence by asking them if they understood Spanish. Of course, they did. (Loud laughter.) He was quite sure that the Signora's third verse and accompanying dance must have convinced everyone of the advantages of Fair Trade. (Laughter.) He saw no reason for merriment. (Renewed laughter.) He had now come to that important subject Bi-metallism. (Cheers.) They had been told that whereas speech was silver, silence was golden. ("Hear, hear!") To show the advantage of silver (represented by speech), the Blue-eyed Nigger would give a native song accompanied on his own banjo. (Loud applause.)
The Blue-eyed Nigger then favoured the company with one of his characteristic ditties.
The Lecturer said he had now to thank his audience for their kind attention, and to inform them that the display of fireworks with set-pieces containing political sentiments appealing to their reason, would take place immediately.
Shortly afterwards the company separated, greatly pleased with the rational entertainment they had been invited to enjoy.
General. "Mr. de Bridoon, what is the general use of Cavalry in modern warfare?"
Mr. de Bridoon. "Well, I suppose to give Tone to what would otherwise be a mere Vulgar Brawl!"
(Being a Parisian Parliamentary Procedure as "She Might be Spoke in England.")
SCENE—The House of Commons at question-time. Ministers in attendance, excited Members regarding them with derision.
First Member. I claim the word, Mr. Speaker. I would ask Esquire Harcourt, does he propose to make his Budget popular?
["Very well! very well!" from the Conservatives.
Esquire Harcourt. I tell the Hon. Gentleman that by such a question he insults the world! (Cheers.) Nay, he insults England!
[Loud applause, in which all join.
First Mem. (after a pause). Still, you have not answered my question. Is your Budget to be popular?
[Murmurs.
Esquire Har. (with spirit). I consider such a question twice repeated an infamy!
[Enthusiastic cheering.
Second Mem. Then it is you who are infamous!
[Uproar.
The Speaker. Gentlemen, Ministers, do not force me to put on my hat—do not cause me to suspend the sitting.
First Mem. Surely a civil question deserves a civil answer?
Esquire Harcourt. Not in a nation that has bled on the field of battle.
[Roars of applause.
First Mem. (after a pause). And yet what I required to know was reasonable. I wished to know whether Esquire Harcourt proposed to name a popular Budget?
Esquire Harcourt. He repeats the calumny!
[Uproar.
First Mem. (after a pause). But is there no reply? I would ask Sir Gladstone—is there no reply?
Sir Gladstone (springing to his feet). It is for the honour of England! (Immense enthusiasm.) And now, Sir, you are answered!
[Roars of applause. Scene closes in upon Ministers receiving the hand-shakes of supporters and opponents.
It is The Opinion of Mr. Phunkie "that the Fair Sex is all very well at the Covert Side, and he has no objection to a little quiet Flirtation there; but if a Man is expected to go hanging round a Girl when Hounds are running, the thing is apt to become a dooce of a Nuisance!"
["A deputation of Seamstresses stated at Westminster Police Court, that they make soldiers' clothing, receiving for each pair of trousers 8¼d., and for each flannel-belt, rather less than one penny."—Daily Paper.]
Pears' Christmas Number—what it ought to be:—A new edition of "His Soap's Fables."
The Real Enemy to "The Big Loaf" (According to John Burns).—The Big Loafer.
National Art-Treasures.—I see that objections are being made to Millbank as a suitable site for the Picture Gallery which Mr. Tate has so generously offered to the nation. May I ask whether the advantages of the Isle of Dogs have ever been considered? The position being right out of the way of anybody who cares a rush for Art, and in the centre of the river-fog district, so as to ensure a maximum of injury to the pictures by damp, its offer to the generous donor would convincingly demonstrate our Government's appreciation of such patriotic munificence. Failing the Isle of Dogs, would there be any objection to Barking, in the neighbourhood of the Sewage Outfall? They are quite accustomed there to dealing with the precipitation of sludge. Perhaps some Art-lover would reply.
Citizen of a Rather Mean City.
Householder's Difficulties.—Could some practical Correspondent advise us as to what would be the best course to pursue under the following awkward circumstances? I live in a house in a newly-constructed terrace, with very thin party-walls. The tenant on one side has just set up a private establishment for the reception of the most thoroughly incurable class of maniacs, while on the other side is a family who make their living by piano, violin, and cornet performances, at private houses. I have asked the landlord to abate the nuisance by adding another brick to the thickness of the walls on each side; but he writes to me, giving his address at the Bankruptcy Court, to explain that the houses are not so constructed as to bear the extra weight, which I think very probable. I would apply for an injunction against the Maniacs, were it not that their howlings are sometimes useful in drowning the sound of the constant practising on the piano. Would it be wise to retaliate by dropping bricks at midnight down my neighbours' chimneys? What is the least term of Penal Servitude that I could get if I hired some of the Unemployed to break into the musical house and smash up the instruments? If I went as a Deputation on the subject to Mr. Asquith, should I be likely to be cordially received?
Tortured Tenant.
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.