Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 107, December 29th 1894
Date: 2014-09-09T00:00:00+00:00
Keywords: English wit and humor -- Periodicals

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Title: Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 107, December 29th 1894

Author: Various

Editor: F. C. Burnand

Release date: September 9, 2014 [eBook #46826]
Most recently updated: October 24, 2024

Language: English

Credits: Produced by Malcolm Farmer, Wayne Hammond and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI, VOLUME 107, DECEMBER 29TH 1894 ***

Punch, or the London Charivari
Volume 107, December 29th 1894
edited by Sir Francis Burnand

THE COMPLIMENTS OF THE SEASON

(Founded upon the Farce of Christmas Cards.)

Scene—A London Drawing Room. Paterfamilias discovered reading a paper, and Materfamilias superintending the despatch of a number of cards.

Mater. (in a tone of irritation). I really think, John, that, considering you have nothing earthly to do this afternoon, you might come and help me.

Pater. You have said that twice before, my dear. Don't you see I am enjoying myself?

Mater. So like you! As if you couldn't give up that stupid paper—you declare there's no news in it—and do me a favour!

Pater. (putting down his paper). Well, anything for a quiet life! What is it?

Mater. I am sending a card to Mrs. Brown.

Pater. (taking up his paper again). Send it.

Mater. My dear John, do attend. I want to know what I shall put into the envelope.

Pater. (giving up paper, and examining Christmas Cards with some vague show of interest). Oh, well—here. (Casually picking up a picture of a country churchyard by moonlight). Won't this be the sort of thing?

Mater. (shocked). How can you, John! Don't you know that Mrs. Brown lost her husband only a year ago?

Pater. Then why are you wishing her "A Merry Christmas"?

Mater. Well, you see she has married again, and so I thought of sending her something with "A Happy New Year" in it.

Pater. (taking up a card showing an owl in an ivy bush). Why not this?

Mater. Well that would be better, but then she might think that the owl was intended for a sneer at her second husband. And then I always like to keep the happy new year cards till Christmas is over, as you can send them afterwards to the people who have remembered you when you have forgotten them.

Pater. But you wouldn't have "A Merry Christmas," and now you object to "A Happy New Year." What do you want?

Mater. Can't you get something impersonal?

Pater. (taking up card). Well, here's a yacht in full sail.

Mater. Oh, how cruel! It will remind her of her cousin who was lost at sea!

Pater. (selecting another sketch). Then why not this bouquet of flowers?

Mater. Not for worlds! One never knows what the flowers may mean, and we might offend her.

Pater. (trying again). Well, here is a windmill.

Mater. My dear John, you are absolutely provoking. A windmill is suggestive of frivolity, and I wouldn't let Mrs. Brown think that we meant that on any account.

Pater. (making another selection). Well, here's a parrot in a cage.

Mater. You surely are not serious? Fancy sending such a card! Why, as everyone knows that dear Mrs. Brown is rather talkative, all the world would say it was an "insult."

Pater. (losing patience). Oh, hang Mrs. Brown!

Mater. I am ashamed of you, John! And I suppose you would hang the cards, too! You would curse "Merry Christmas."

Pater. (promptly). That I would, and what is more, I would—well never mind—the glad New Year!

[Scene closing in upon an anti-seasonable squabble.

Disgusted Keeper (who has just beaten up a brace or so of Pheasants, which young Snookson has missed "clane and clever"—to dog, which has been "going seek" and "going find" from force of habit). "Ah, Ruby, Ruby, bad dog! T' heel, Ruby, t' heel! Ah muust apologise for Ruby, Sir. You see, Ruby's been accustomed to pick 'em up!"

THREE CHRISTMAS GREETINGS.

Before the fireside's ruddy glow
I sit, and let my thoughts fly free;
Lo, these my Christmas greetings go
To three good friends beyond the sea.
Vain is the winter tempest's wrack,
It cannot keep my greetings back.

Oh wind and rain, and rain and wind,
How purposeless and blind ye are,
Like fate, for fate was surely blind
That bade my three friends range afar.
Like mine, perchance, their fancy strays
To other scenes and distant days.

Dear Frank, I think I see you now,
My flaxen-haired American,
Brave heart, grey eye, unclouded brow,
Two stalwart yards of wilful man,
How oft in laughter and in song
With you I sped the hours along.

Ah me, the days were all too short,
Too swift the unreturning hours
In that old town of Hall and court,
Of ancient gateways flanked with towers,
Where once we feared the near exam...
And dared the dons, and stirred the Cam.

You went, and now expound the law
(As Bumble said, the law's a hass)
And argue, as I note with awe,
For litigants in Boston, Mass.;
And, though you wear no warlike suit,
They call you "General" to boot.

And, Fred, how fares it now with you
In that drear country of the North?
Too great your needs, your means too few,
A whim of temper drove you forth.
On far Vancouver's shore, alone
You hear the sad Pacific moan.

With us, God wot, you little throve;
Your life all fire, and storm, and fret,
Against relentless fate you strove,
But strove in vain—and yet, and yet
God shapes in storm and fire his plan,
And moulds a world or makes a man.

Good luck be yours on that bleak shore,
Some fortunate, some golden prize;
Then be it mine to see once more
Those friendly, lustrous, Irish eyes.
Return and face with us your fate,
The world is small and England great.

You shall return and fill your place,
But never shall I clasp his hand,
Whose bright and smiling boyish face
Makes sunshine in the shadowland.
Yet shall the night my heart beguile,
And let me dream I see him smile.

Your voice I may not hear again,
Oh dear and unforgotten friend,
Beloved, but ah! beloved in vain,
Whom love could mourn, but not defend.
Still take, though far and lost you dwell,
My love, dear Hugh, and so farewell.

And thus before the fireside's glow
I sit and let my thoughts fly free;
Lo, these my Christmas greetings go
To three good friends beyond the sea;
To Frank, to Fred, and ah, to you,
Beloved, irrevocable Hugh.

MR. PUNCH'S CHRISTMAS BOXES.

To Japan.—A piece of china.
To China.—A japanned hot-water can.
To Russia.—A slice of turkey.
To Turkey.—A russia bag.
To the French Republic.—A napoleon or a louis.
To Hawaii.—A sovereign.
To the King of Spain.—Half a sovereign.
To Don Carlos.—A crown.
To King Milan.—Half a crown.
To the German Emperor.—A few notes, and a good mark (for attention to harmony).
To Mr. Labouchere.—An antique noble.

"Sound Critics."—Musical ones.

A CHRISTMAS IDYLL.

The Snapdragon Galop.]

TO PHILADELPHIA.

To Resolve his Doubt.

I have no passion to bestow,
My heart no more can beat
Like the caged bird that to and fro
Flutters your hand to greet.

In a sad peace no raptures stir
My twilight years have set,
Embalming but in bitter myrrh
All I cannot forget.

When hope is dead, and sweet desire
And love's brief April rains,
Only the spirit to inquire
Unconquered still remains.

'Tis that that bows my soul; although
I'm prostrate at your feet,
Only because I want to know—
That's why I ask you, sweet!

Suggested Title.—George Newnes brings out Zigzags at the Zoo, writ by Morrison and drawn most humorously by the Gentle Shepherd. A good title would have been Fore-Newnes at the Zoo.

A DOG ON HIS DAY.

(A Pitiful Epistle from Pongo to Mr. Punch at Christmastide.)

Every dog has his day—so they say,—
And mine it seems comes round once a year.
When all the painter fellows mix their blacks and browns and yellows,
And paint me, in some attitude that's queer,
And unnatural, and silly; spilling milk or supping skilly;
With a bonnet or a bib on, or tied up in bows of ribbon!
Oh, the Dogs' "Decline and Fall" might inspire a doggish Gibbon!
And they make me most unhappy, and my temper sharp and snappy,
Do these pictures poor and pappy. I'm a decent doggish chappie,
But in gaudy Christmas Numbers, watching o'er the sloppy slumbers
Of a baby pink and podgy; or squatting scared and stodgy,
Like a noodle of a poodle—oh! its really wretched foodle!—
At a beetle or a frog staring wildly, in a fog,
Or lapping baby's custard, or refusing baby's mustard,
Or dress'd up like a guy, or winking t'other eye,
In a gown, trimmed with down, like a clown,
Or coquetting with a cat,
Or chasing that old rat
Down that everlasting hole in the stable! On my soul,
A dog as is a dog, and not a duffer,
When the Yuletide pictures come is bound to suffer
Endless agonies of shame at the loss of his good name
As the sonsie friend of man, and a watchful guar-di-an,
Not an adjunct of the nursery!
At this happy anniversary
(Mr. Punch)
I could cr-r-r-runch!
The daubers who malign me, and such stupid rôles assign me.
Why, it's worse than hydrophoby!!!
Mr. Punch, do turn on Toby,
As our champion canine to request each painter chap
To turn off the old stale tap of the porridge and the pap, and the
baby in the cap, or the kid (who needs a slap) and the pug (not
worth a rap) in an apoplectic nap, the toy-terrier on the snap, or
a-sniffing at a trap, or essaying milk to lap, like a small pot-bellied
Jap; and all the old clap-trap
Which makes a decent doggy in sheer desperation say
That he'd rather be a kitten with a ball and string to play,
Or live on clockwork rats, or make breakfast on chopped hay,
Or be smeared all o'er with mustard like a cold beef sandwich,—Aye!
Or—whisper!—Bite a Baby!!—on the nose!! in nursery play!!!
Better dare renewed distemper than another Christmas Day!!
For unless I have your promise—and dear Toby's—I much fear
I must spend a pappy Christmas and a yappy New Year!

AN AFTERPART À LA L. C. C.

As the L. C. C. have taken in hand the morals of the music halls, and shown an inclination to supersede the Lord Chamberlain, it may be as well to publish a rough sketch of a specimen scene from the afterpart of a pantomime for the guidance of theatrical managers desirous of standing well with the successors to the members of the Metropolitan Board of Works. The "opening" would, of course, be written by "a serious bard with a mission." No doubt the story would be told in a manner most productive to the manufacture of prigs. The transformation over, Clown, Pantaloon, Harlequin and Columbine would be discovered in a group.

Clown (in the conventional tone). Here we are again!

Bumble (representing the L. C. C.). Scarcely. Allow me to point out that in future you will be entirely different.

Clown (as before). Come along, old'un; let's make a butter slide.

Bumble. You must permit me to interpose. The Council cannot recognise any practical joke of the kind. If you wish to have the same sort of fun, pull up the streets in the most frequented thoroughfares in the metropolis—the Strand and Fleet Street for choice.

Clown (as before). Oh, here's a baby! Let's smash it!

Bumble. Please accept my advice. The Council do not object to the keeping down of babies in the abstract. But personal violence is contrary to the law. If you really wish to decrease the surplus population, why not work it to death at a board-school? It may be a slower process than throwing it over a lamp-post, but the incident will be truer to life, and therefore more convincing.

Clown (as before). Oh! old 'un, here's a peeler coming!

Bumble. Pray be under no apprehension. Until the Police Force is placed under the direct control of the Council, the members will do their best to protect you. It stands to reason that a great community like London should have its own guardians under its own direct control.

Clown (as before). And now let's jump through this building.

Bumble. Again I must put my veto upon your proceedings. If you were to jump through that wall no doubt a placard would appear bearing the legend "Somersault Place." This might be apt, but no change in the nomenclature of the streets can be permitted without the direct sanction of Spring Gardens.

Clown (as before). And now let's pelt this house, and all who's in it!

Bumble. Stop, stop! You are attacking our own sacred building. (To Harlequin). Will you be so good as to change the locale. (Harlequin strikes building, which turns into the Mansion House.) Now you may do what you please. For the Corporation of the City of London is so effete that we have no sympathy for it!

[Scene of bustle and confusion, and curtain.

New Musical Work: Leading Strings.—If it isn't a title it ought to be for the biographies of celebrated violinists from Paganini to Joachim.

THOSE LANCERS.

Pretty partner, how are you
After such a set of lancers?
No one knowing what to do;
We alone of sixteen dancers,
Knew a figure, one or two.
Pretty partner, how are you?

Seven men and seven girls,
All in such a fog together;
One pair strides, and one pair twirls,
Neither of them knowing whether
That is what they ought to do,
Pretty partner, not like you.

You, who dance so very well,
Slight, and light, and quite delightful,
Belle who bears away the bell;
We were forced to stop, how frightful!
Yet I found one thing to do,
Pretty partner—look at you.

In that lamentable block,
Some poor lout was sure to trample
On the lace that trims your frock,
Though the space of floor seemed ample
Even for his feet which flew,
Pretty partner, after you.

Oh, the links of that "grand chain"
In such desperate confusion!
Feet, not hands, I met with pain,
Stamps on toes, kick, bruise, contusion!
Yet, alive, I've struggled through,
Pretty partner, here with you.

Figures! one alone was good,
That was yours, so slim and charming.
In your company I would
Welcome bruises more alarming.
I would dance till all was blue,
Pretty partner, if with you.

THE ARAUCARIA.

(Reversion to an early Ancestral Type.)

Grigson. "I say, old Chappie, it would puzzle you to Climb that Tree!"

AT THE WESTMINSTER PLAY

Plaudite! Bravo! Brave! Domini Quippus et Punnus are very much alive! A fact that may be inferred from just one line (there are more whence this came) in the Westminsterial play, when Davus takes Mysis "the New Woman," for his wife, and exclaims:—

"O Mysis, Mysis, tu mea Missis eris!"

Surely if the punhating Criticus Sagitarius (Mundi) were present he must have staggered out weeping on hearing the Latin-Anglo-modern-classical pun! O shade of 'Arry Stophanes! O Ghost of Terence (the Corkasian)! are our youths at Westminster to start thus on their career, with nothing better than a poor pun not worth a punny in their pockets! Let Sagitarius watch this youthful punster's line of life! He will live to be punished! or to be rewarded as he deserves? After all, Great Pun is not dead; he may be dull, commonplace sometimes, but as he was prehistoric, so is he immortal. There is a great future before the author of the Westminster epilogue.

Robert Louis Stevenson.

Born November 13, 1850.
Died December 8, 1894.

Brave bringer-back of old Romance
From shores so few may see,
Who oft hath made our pulses dance
With thy word-wizardry.
We wished, who loved thee long and well,
Thy life as endless as the spell
Which lured us lingeringly
To loiter, like a moon-witched stream,
Through thine enchanted world of dream.

We mused, with much-expectant smile,
On that strange life afar,
Flower-girt, in yon Pacific isle,
Whereto an alien star
Had drawn thee from thy northern home,
Scourged by a greyer, chillier foam,
Yet dear as the white bar
Whose snowy break home-haven marks
To battered shore-returning barks.

And now across the sundering seas,
Delayed, unwelcome, dread,
Comes news that breaks our dreamful ease.
The Great Romancer dead?
It comes like an unnatural blight.
That sunny vision quenched in night,
That subtle spirit fled?
One-half our best soul-life seems gone
Out like a spark with Stevenson.

Enough for fame that hand had wrought,
But not enough for those
Who dreamed his dream, who thought his thought,
And grieve that so should close
Fresh-opened doors to Faëryland
Before the poet-Prospero's wand
Had wrought the spells he chose.
Without him amaranth-blooms to cull
The world looks Stygian now, and dull.

Teller of Tales, those southern folk
Their Tusitala hailed.
Samoan hearts may mourn the stroke.
We, who must leave unscaled,
Save in fond fancy, that high peak
Where he is tombed, who, though flesh-weak
In spirit never failed
More than his stalwart fathers,—we
Send half our hearts across the sea.

The lighthouse-builder raised no light
That shall outshine the flame
Of genius in its mellowest might
That beacons him to fame.
And Pala's peak shall do yet more
Than the great light at Skerryvore
To magnify his name,
Who mourned, when stricken flesh would tire,
That he was weaker than his sire.

Teller of Tales! Of tales so told
That all the world must list.
Story sheer witchery, style pure gold,
Yet with that tricksy twist
Of Puck-like mockery which betrays
The wanderer in this world's mad maze,
Not blindly optimist,
Who wooes Romance, yet sadly knows
That Life's sole growth is not the Rose.

Dreamer of dreams! Such dreams as draw
Glad through the Ivory Gate,
In rapt and visionary awe,
The soul alert, elate;
Eblis obscure, Elysium dim,
And a strange Limbo of wild whim,
Upon us seem to wait,
In solemn pomp, when willing thrall
To him who held the keys of all.

Thinker of thoughts, fresh, poignant, fine,
Wherein no wit may trace
That burthen of the Philistine,
Chill, barren Commonplace.
Who hath not felt the subtle stroke
Which can in one choice phrase invoke
The soul of charm and grace,
Haunting the ear like an old rhyme,
A cherished memory for all time?

No more, no more! We shall not see
Again the glorious show;
No more will wake the wizardry,
Nor the charmed music flow.
Samoa's silence holds it hushed,
The voice whereat our cheeks have flushed
A hundred times; and lo!
For happy hours, for haunted days,
We can but pay with sad, proud praise!

Crackers.—Tom Smith, the up-to-date magician, sends forth from his treasure-cave "bright things which gleam," but not "unrecked of"—at least they won't remain so long, especially if any quiet demon of a schoolboy with martial aspirations hears a report of "The Gatling Gun Cracker." The repeating process will be an uncertain pleasure—to others. Then "Snap Shots," taken unawares by a naughty little Cupid—we can imagine the "Surprises!" Knick-knacks are boomed in "Ye Olde Curiosity Shop"—but soft! I will not reveal any further the secrets of the "King of Crackers." Get them—they are an "Open Sesame" to a gaiety of delights.

ADDING INSULT TO INJURY.

Cyclist (to Fox-hunter, thrown out). "Oi say, Squoire, 'ave you seen the 'Ounds?"

OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.

A Baronitess junior sends word from the children's quarters that Your Fortune and Character is an amusing game, told by William Shakspeare, but published by John Jaques & Co.—evidently not a descendant of the "melancholy Jaques," for he would have "rail'd on Lady Fortune in good terms" had the game been at his expense.

Massa Blackie & Son send in a story by G. A. Henty, always so Hentytaining, entitled When London Burned. We all ken that when Rome burned Nero fiddled, but this hero—not an 'ero—had every opportunity of extinguishing—my Baronite means "distinguishing himself;" and our cavalier availed himself, after many other wondrous episodes, to rush with warm enthusiasm to throw cold water on this enlightenment of London. Needless to remark, he came scatheless through the fire!

From Snowdon to the Sea, by Marie Trevelyan, shows us Wales in the days of Merlin and mythical superstitions, likewise of queer doings on the part of bold, bad buccaneers, in whom we seem to trace something of the origin of the modern Welsher.

A perfect black and white school romance is continued in My Lost Manuscript, by Maggie Symington (Wells, Gardner and Darton). Evidently this youthful writer had not read the wise counsels conveyed in a manual On the Art of Writing Fiction (brought out by same publishers), or so much ink would not have been wasted. "After perusing this cheery little book, the much encouraged aspirant," quoth our Baronitess with a sigh, "for literary fame, will promptly lay down the pen and write no more." Good news for the editors.

Miss Braddon, in her delightful story Christmas Hirelings (Simpkins, Marshall & Co.), hits upon a novel suggestion for those folks who don't know how to keep the festive season as it should be kept. Away flies boredom! How? I will not reveal the secret, but if any nicely suppressed little children possess an average Scrooge-like relative, take my advice, and present him with this book. The result will be more than even a child's dream can anticipate. Rather powder in jam to boys will be The Battle of Frogs and Mice, by Jane Barlow (Methuen), who is evidently a distant connection of the immortal Mr. Barlow, with so much kind thought for youthful learning. It may be Greek to many who have but a dim, far-off knowledge of the first great burlesque writer: but this his book will bring it all Homer again to us. Quite a relief to turn to our dear Nonsense Songs and Stories, by Edward Lear (Frederick Warne & Co.) Vague yellow undulating pessimism notwithstanding, how pleasant is real good nonsense! And even the fairy story cannot be crushed by our juggernaut modern science, than which the imaginative impossible, as in Thought Fairies, by Helen Waters, and in the Seven Imps, by Kathleen Wallis, is so much more attractive to youthful brains. Both books issued by Digby, Long, & Co., and wise of them to do so. Macmillans issue a splendid new edition of the wonderful Gulliver's Travels, with over a hundred illustrations by Charles E. Brock, which ought to make the book go off like Brock's fireworks. Its very warm cover suggests a seasonable book, A Righte Merrie Christmasse, by John Ashton (Leadenhall Press), who, fancying that some of its customs and privileges might be forgotten, collects all that has been done or could be done at this annual event. Some of ye anciente goinges on make one wonder whether feasts were better kept when they spelt with such unreasonable euphony. It must have been "merrie in halle" when the wassail song was ordinarily sung as depicted by A. C. Behrend in his exquisite copper etching.

London Society is peculiarly bright and cheerful this Yuletide, and keeps up its excellent reputation. A good medley is London Society. And here is a very bright little Woman this Christmastide. Quite a festive party with her capital stories and supplement of "Types of the World's Women." Just "Woman, lovely woman" in all styles and shades. Without being more vain than any other average islander, one feels grateful for belonging to the British group—no offence to the other ladies, to whom we take off our hat, and, whilst including the rest, salute advancing Woman. "And it is this New Woman, not the New Woman of the period, whom," quoth the Baron, "I salute with pleasure," and to whom he wishes a happy Christmas and a prosperous New Year, and signs himself

The Genial Baron de Book-worms.

READING BETWEEN THE LINES.

(A Physician's Protest.)

Mr. Punch,—As a specialist of some standing and experience, I wish, Sir, to call attention, through the medium of your valuable paper, to the injurious effects of a certain occupation upon the minds of the individuals engaged therein, and their protection.

The occupation to which I refer is that of devising and arranging what I understand are technically known as "headlines" for the contents-bills of the more inexpensive London evening papers—an occupation which I have no hesitation in characterising, on evidence unconsciously supplied by the sufferers themselves, as highly dangerous employment.

I am not sufficiently versed, Sir, to the minutiæ of newspaper routine, to know what precise class of persons are entrusted with this particular responsibility, though I have a strong suspicion that it may be one of the many forms of degrading drudgery which the selfishness of man has imposed upon the weaker sex. If so, of course it only increases the necessity for interference.

And, whoever and whatever the persons performing such duties may be, it is painfully obvious that they are labouring under conditions of mental excitement, the strain of which no nervous system can support for any length of time without inevitable and complete collapse.

Should there be any who consider this an overstatement on my part, I merely ask them to give a glance at some of these same content-sheets which are nightly displayed in our chief thoroughfares. Let them mark the monstrous size of the lettering, the peculiar extravagance of the epithets selected, the morbid insistence upon unpleasant details, and then doubt, if they can, that the unhappy persons employed in such an industry are affected thereby with some obscure form of hysteria. Otherwise, let me ask you, Sir, is it likely, is it credible, that seasoned journalists, tough men of the world, in touch with life at innumerable points, could, in a normal state of health, be so constantly "Startled," "Amazed," "Astounded," "Shocked," "Appalled," and "Revolted," as they admit themselves to be, almost every evening, by reports and rumours which a little reflection would convince them were utterly unfounded, or by events too ordinary and commonplace, one might have supposed, to upset the mental equilibrium of a neurotic rabbit?

Occasionally, too, there are symptoms of an excessive reverence for rank, which, when found in the more democratic organs (where, indeed, they are chiefly observable), denote a somewhat distempered state of intellect, the delusion apparently being that the mere possession of any sort of title renders its owner immaculate. Thus, they announce with awestricken solemnity "A Peer's Peccadilloes," or "A Baronet Bilks his Baker," giving these events a poster all to themselves, as others would an earthquake, or some portent of direst significance.

Now this loss of the sense of proportion in human affairs, Sir, is a very bad sign, and a well-nigh infallible indicator of nerve-strain and general overpressure.

But I find a yet more unmistakable evidence in support of my contention in the extraordinary emotional sensibility revealed by these headlines whenever some unfortunate person has been sentenced to death for the most commonplace murder. There is clearly a profound conviction that the jury who heard the evidence, the judge who pronounced their verdict of guilty, the only possible conclusion they could reasonable come to, and the Home Secretary who found himself unable to recommend a reprieve, were, one and all, engaged in a cold-blooded conspiracy against a perfectly innocent man. The convict has said to himself, and that seems to be considered sufficient. And so, night after night, the authors of these headlines harrow themselves by announcing such items as "Blank protests his innocence to his Solicitor." "A petition in Preparation." "Painful Interview." "Blank Hopeful." "Blank Depressed." "Distressing Scene on the Scaffold." "Blank's Last Words."

Consider the strain of all these alterations of hope and despair, repeated time after time, and almost invariably without even the consolation of deferring the fate of their protégé by a single hour! Is it not too much for the strongest constitution to endure? a service which the society has no right to demand from any of its members?

Yes, Sir, whether these devoted servants of the public know it or not, they are running a most frightful risk; the word which hangs above their heads may fall at any moment.

Suppose, for example—and it is surely not wholly an imaginary danger I foresee—suppose that some day some event should happen somewhere of real and serious importance. Have they left themselves any epithet in reserve capable of expressing their sensations at all adequately? They have not; they have squandered participles and adjectives in such reckless profusion that they will discover they are reduced to the condition of inarticulate bankrupts; and, speaking as a medical man, acute cerebral congestion would be the very least result that I should anticipate.

Or the determining shock might come from more trivial causes. For instance, we might lose a distinguished statesman, or an ironclad, at the very moment when a football match was decided, or when the professional tipster attached to their particular journal published his "finals." Think of the mental conflict before determining the relative importance of these events, and awarding one or the other its proper prominence on the posters; and then ask yourself, Sir, whether it is an ordeal that any human being of an impressionable, excitable temperament should be required to undergo.

What precise remedy should be adopted I do not profess to point out. Perhaps some one of the numerous leagues established to protect adult citizens against themselves might take the matter up, and insist upon these contents-bills being set up for the future in smaller type and with epithets of a more temperate order. Perhaps Parliament or the London County Council might be asked to interfere. All that is not within my province, Sir, but this I do say: unless some measures are taken soon, the heavy responsibility will be upon us of having permitted a small but deserving class of our fellow-creatures to hurry themselves into premature mental decay by the pernicious and unwholesome nature of their employment.

I am, Sir, Your obedient servant,
Hippocrates Hellebore, M.D., F.R.C.P.

VERY HARD LINES.

Young Farmer (pulling up at urgent appeal of Pedestrian). "Hillo! That you, Tim? Want another Situation! Why, I thought you were living with Captain addlepate as Coachman?"

Tim. "So I was, Sor; but 'twasn't a fair bargin. Shure we was never to get Thrunk both at wance, Sor!"

Young Farmer (amused). "Well, that seems fair enough, anyway."

Tim. "But, begorra, Sor, the Captin was Thrunk the whole blissid toime!"

The Rev. Dr. Gee, Vicar of Windsor, is now installed Canon of St. George's Chapel. Prosit! Our best wish for him is that, when he is going to give an exceedingly good sermon, may this particular Gee not discover that he is a little hoarse.

MIGHT HAVE BEEN SAID OTHERWISE!

He (to elderly Young Lady, after a long Waltz). "You must have been a splendid dancer!"

"OH, THE MISTLETOE BOUGH!"

(A New Seasonable Song to an old Seasonable Tune.)

The mistletoe hung on the brave old oak,
The sickle went clinketing stroke upon stroke;
The lads and the lasses were blithe and gay,
And gambolled in Old Father Christmas's way.
Old Christmas held high with a joyous pride
The berried branch dear unto damsel and bride;
For its silvery berries they seemed to be
The stars of that goodly companie.
Oh! the Mistletoe Bough!
Oh! the Mistletoe Bough!!

"Who wearies of kissing?" the Old Man cried.
"Let her be a New Woman, but never a bride!
Ha! ha! The old custom's approval I trace
In red lip and blue eye upon every face.
It was ever so, since time began.
'Tis the way of the maid, 'tis the way of the man.
'Tis also 'the way of a man with a maid,'
For Cupid's barter's the oldest trade."
Oh! the Mistletoe Bough!
Oh! the Mistletoe Bough!

"They are seeking to-day every new fangled way;
Some tell us that wooing has had its day.
In the highest, the lowest, the loneliest lot,
The gleam of Love's berry makes one bright spot.
And years may fly, as they will fly, fast,
But one good old custom at least shall last;
And when Christmas appears still the maids will cry:—
'See! the Old Man bears the Love-berry on high!'"
Oh! the Mistletoe Bough!
Oh! the Mistletoe Bough!!

"Gather!" he cried, and he waved his sickle.
"Oh! fortune changes, and fashion's fickle;
And youth grows mannish, and manhood old,
And red lips wither, warm hearts grow cold:
But whenever I come, midst the Yuletide snows,
'Tis not Spring's lily, or Summer's rose
Young men and maidens demand, I trow.
But old Winter's white-berried Kissing-bough."
Oh! the Mistletoe Bough!
Oh! the Mistletoe Bough!!

"For lilies wither, and roses pale,
But the Kissing-bough keeps up the old, old tale.
And dull were the world should the old tale cease!
Be it kiss of passion, or kiss of peace,
The meaning when lip unto lip is laid
Is goodwill on earth to man, and maid.
That's Yule's best lesson, good friends I vow,
So reck ye the rede of the Mistletoe Bough!"
Oh! the Mistletoe Bough!
Oh! the Mistletoe Bough!!

So they gather around him with laugh and joke,
'Neath the spreading boughs of that brave old oak,
Which hath shelter for all, from the English rose
To the whitest snow-bell from Canada's snows,
Or hot India's lotus-bud dainty and sweet.
But the cry of them all, as in mirth they meet
Old Father Christmas, as ever, so now,
Is "Hands all round 'neath the Mistletoe Bough!"
Oh! the Mistletoe Bough!!
Our brave, bonny Mistletoe Bough!!!

"OH, THE MISTLETOE BOUGH!"

Father Christmas. "HA! HA! WITH ALL THEIR NEW-FANGLED NOTIONS, HERE'S ONE OLD CUSTOM ALL AGREE IN KEEPING UP!"

CURIOUS ACCIDENT TO MRS. RAMSBOTHAM.

Strolling through Pimlico the other day Mrs. R. was attracted by evidence of a sale by auction going forward in one of the residences in that desirable quarter. Having half an hour to spare she thought she would look in. "I was quite surprised," she writes to her son, "when I entered the room to see a gentleman standing in a pulpit which I knew was Mr. Pipchose, leastway, his whiskers were not so mutton-choppy; but I could not mistake him, though meeting him only once at tea at Mrs. Brown's where he was very pressing with the muffins. He looked at me in just the same meaning way as when he said, 'Mrs. Ram. won't you take another piece of sugar, though as I know it's carrying coals to Newcastle?' I'm not above recognising my friends, wherever I meet them, and gave him a friendly nod, and before I knew where I was, I found I had bought for £3 9s. 6d. a wool mattress; a pair of tongs (rather bent); a barometer (with the quicksilver missing); a small iron bedstead; a set of tea-things (mostly cracked); an armchair, and a sofa warranted hair-stuffed, but certainly having only three legs. It wasn't Mr. Pipchose at all, as I might have known if I had taken another look at his whiskers, but only a forward auctioneer."

"The Chinese Government," observed the City Times last week, "is seeking new channels for money." Decidedly China is in straits, and will soon be apparently quite at sea.

TO MELENDA.

(A Repentance in Triolets.)

I swore to you, dear, there was mistletoe there,
Though I knew all the time there was none.
As I stole a sweet kiss from you out on the stair
I swore to you, dear, there was mistletoe there.
I have plenty of sins on my soul, dear, to bear,
But at least I've confessed now to one.
I swore to you, dear, there was mistletoe there
Though I knew all the time there was none.

I am sorry. I never will do it again,
And please am I fully forgiven?
In the future from falsehood I mean to refrain.
I am sorry. I never will do it again,
But look at yourself in your glass to explain
Why to mistletoe tale I was driven.
I am sorry. I never will do it again,
And please am I fully forgiven?

There's an answer you'll send if you're thoroughly kind,
That will make me feel free from all blame.
I hope you'll be glad, dear Melenda, to find
There's an answer you'll send if you're thoroughly kind.
It's this, "Though the mistletoe was but a blind,
Still with none I'd have done just the same."
There's the answer you'll send if you're thoroughly kind
That will make me feel free from all blame.

The Baron's P.S.—The Border Waverley, brought out by Nimmo, and edited by Andrew Lang, is now concluded, and a fine set of volumes it makes. No better collection of books as a Christmas present for anyone with a regard to a future of literary enjoyment.

Nos omnesne laudamus Nimmo?
Et respondit Echo: "Immo."

"Ha! ha! I don't go to a Westminster Play for nothing quoth the Baron;" though he added sotto voce, "Yes I do though, as I'm a guest."

FIRST IMPRESSIONS.

Genoa in November. It is summer time. Put on thin suit, drink my café au lait by open window, and stroll out into beautiful Genoa, basking in the sunshine. Déjeuner in the garden of a restaurant, among the old palaces. Sit in the shade, without my hat. Think of all the poor people in London. Wonder if anyone is having a frugal lunch at the funny little open-air restaurant in Hyde Park. Lemonade and a bath bun in a fog. Should imagine not.

Charming place, Genoa. Hardly any Germans. Can at last hear people talking Italian. In Venice there are so many Germans that one might as well be in Germany. Sitting out on the Piazza, one hears incessantly their monotonous, guttural chatter, always in the same tone of voice, without inflections, without emotion, and, worst of all, without end. Watched at the hotel table d'hôte a German lady sitting between two German gentlemen. One man talked loudly without ceasing, mouth full or mouth empty, from soup to dessert. The other man, rather older and feebler, also talked without ceasing, but he could not equal the other's noise; he only added to it. As for the lady, her lips moved all the time; one could imagine the ja wohl, the ach, so? the ja, ja, ja, but one could not hear a word. At Florence, at Milan, on the Lakes it is the same. If by chance one hears a Frenchman speak, his charming language sounds more vivacious and melodious than ever before. So it is good to be in Genoa, where even the best hotel is kept by Italians. Apparently every other good hotel in Italy is kept by Herr Schmidt, or Herr Weber, or Herr Somethingorother, and all the servants are German also. There is one hotel in Genoa kept by a German. It faces the harbour. All night long there are whistles, screams, bangs, rumblings, bumps, roars, and other sounds from trains, ships, and tramways. All day long there is the same noise, only more of it. But the Germans do not mind; they talk just the same, and they make each other hear through it all.

Charming place, Genoa, with a town hall that is the gayest imaginable. Marble staircases, vestibules adorned with palms, beautiful little gardens, at all sorts of levels, outside the windows of the various offices. Everywhere flowers. If the town rates in Genoa are paid at the Town Hall, the paying of them must be almost pleasant. One would go with that horrible demand note, if that is used also in Italy, and fancy that one was arriving at a ball. The palm-decorated entrance looks just like it. It only needs a lady rate collector, such as one hears of in England, and one surely, in whatever manner the Italians may say it, would beg the charming signora to give one the honour and pleasure of a dance, and scribble her name on the programme—I mean the demand note. And no doubt, the Italian officials being leisurely and the space being ample, one could find time for a waltz in the intervals of rate paying, or at least sit it out in one of the delightful little gardens of this ideal Palazzo Municipale.

And so farewell to sunny Genoa, and off to Turin. German hotel again, German proprietor, German servants. Solitary German visitor drinking his morning coffee. The hotels of Turin are not crowded; he and I are alone. What will the poor man do? He must talk his awful language to someone. He shan't talk it to me, for I will pretend I do not understand even one word. The waiter has left the room. Must the poor man be silent? Thunderweather, ah no! Happilywise he is saved. The considerate proprietor, thoughtful of his countryman's needs, enters; he stands by the visitor's table, and the talk begins. When it ends I cannot say, for I leave them, well started and in good voice, and hear, as I think, their sweetly melodious phrases for the last time in Italy. The train carries me away. There is not much more of Italy now, for here is the Mont Cenis tunnel. Farewell, beautiful country, beautiful pictures, beautiful language! There is someone leaning out of the next carriage window. No doubt he is also saddened; he is speaking to others inside, his voice is cheerful, he is evidently trying not to give way to despair. Now I hear what he says, "Da werde ich ein Glas Bier trinken, ja, ja, ja!"

A First Impressionist.

Wanted! a Perfect Cure for the incompatibility of Judges' sentences.

PREHISTORIC PEEPS.

During a considerable portion of the Year the Skating was excellent, and was much enjoyed by all Classes.

INDEX

Ad Jovem Pluvium, 263
Afterpart à la L. C. C. (An), 302
"After the Health Congress is over," 71
Airs Resumptive, 45, 66, 83, 165, 205
All my Eye! 121
"All's Well!" 258
"All up with the Empire," 183
Alpine Railway (An), 95
Amare, O! 263
Anglo-Russian Echo (An), 95
Another Man's Ears, 165
Apple of Discord (The), 39
Art of Naval Platitude (The), 216
As we like it, 25
At Last! 18
At the Westminster Play, 303
"Automatic" Conscience (The), 147
"Auxiliary Assistance" in the Provinces, 105
Awful Outlook (An), 177
"Awkward Customer" (An), 210

Ballade of Imitations, 11
Ballade of Three Volumes (A), 39
Ballade to Order, 298
"B. and S." at the Savoy (A), 292
Bank Holiday Dream-Book (The), 57
Battle of the Budget (The), 3
Bayard and Bobby, 201
Beauties of Bologna, 215
Betting Man on Cricket (A), 65
Blue Gardenia (The), 185
Bowl me no more! 155
British Lions, 185
Broken China, 192
Bygones, 85

Cabby's Answers, 5
Cant v. Cant, 207
Certain Cure (A), 145
"Challenge" (The), 219
Chief Mourner (The), 222

Chronicles of a Rural Parish (The), 217, 237, 250, 263, 265, 288, 299

Clerical Question for Exeter (A), 183
Clio at Salcombe, 215
"Clubs! Clubs!" 77
Coincidence's Long Arm, 167
Complaint of the Modern Lover, 167
Compliments of the Season, 301
Copperation at Winser (The), 46
"Copy," 297
Corean Cock-fight (The), 54
Counting Noses, 257
Counting the Catch, 90
Crossed! 251
Cryptogrammatist Wanted, 72
Curios for the Cricketing Exhibition, 298
Curious Accident to Mrs. R., 336
Curse (The), 118

Dangerous Doctrine, 120
Day of Small Things (The), 213, 255
Day's Ride, a Law's Romance (A), 155
Decadent Guys (The), 225
Demi-French Octave (A), 47
Diary of a Duck, 274
Dilemma of the Headless Spectre, 213
Ditto to Mr. Courtney, 83
Diurnal Feminine (The), 13
Dog on his Day (A), 302
Dog's Meet, 118
Don't "Come unto these Yellow Sands"! 114
Doom of the Minor Poets (The), 251

Eastward Ho! 63
Ejaculations, 141
Embarras de Richesses, 87
End of the Opera Season (The), 57
Engagement (An), 264
English as she is Crammed, 292

Essence of Parliament, 11, 23, 35, 48, 59, 71, 84, 95, 108

"Evicted Tenants," 42

Extract (An), 281

Fancy Portrait, 15
Farewell to McGladstone, 46
Fashion and Felony, 232
Femina Dux Facti, 221
"Finest English," 113
Finishing Touches, 221

First Impressions, 192, 204, 238, 252, 264, 273, 287, 289, 309

Fizz and Fuss, 298
Fly Route to Castles in the Air, 83
Following Footsteps, 125
Fool's Vade Mecum (The), 273
For Arms or Alms? 45
"For Example!" 162
"Fourth R" (The), 243
Fragment of a Police "Report d'Arthur," 177
Friend in Need (A), 30
From the Birmingham Festival, 186
Future Fame, 203

Gaiety "Sans-Gêne," 9

Gay Widow Courted (A), 221

General Literary Review Company (Limited), 168

Generosity under Difficulties, 291
Gilbert and Carr-icature, 240
Gismonda, 233
Good News, 121
"Good Time coming" (A), 27
Good Wishes, 36
Gossip without Words, 189
"Grand National" Trust (The), 47
Guesses at Goodwood, 37

Hanwellia's Answer, 179
Hardy Annual at Henley, 15
Hawarden Pastoral (A), 96
Haymarket Heroine (The), 241
Helmholtz, 141
Henley Notes, 22
Herrick on Rational Dress, 147
Hint for the Alpine Season, 74
Hopeless Case (A), 135
Hopeless Quest (A), 206
House-Agent's Dream (The), 270
How it will be done hereafter, 89

Ichabod, 253
If not, why not? 169
"I'm getting a Big Girl now!" 171
Improved and Improving Dialogues, 269

Inconvenienced Traveller's Phrase-Book, 82, 125

Infant Phenomenon (The), 291
In Memoriam, 102; Comte de Paris, 126
In Nuce, 159
In Paris out of the Season, 133
In Praise of Boys, 107
Ins and Outs, 213
Inter-University Football, 285
In the Museum, 141
In Three Volumes, 101
Invasion of Woman (The), 145
Is the Bar a Profitable Profession? 109

Jap the Giant-Killer, 150
John Bull à la Russe, 264
John Walter, 232
"Judgment of 'Parish'" (The), 267
"Justice as she is Spoken in France," 75

Ladas! 141
La Femme de Claude, 42
Latest Great Yacht-Race, 29
Latest Parliamentary Betting, 25
Latest War Intelligence, 276
Law of the (Social) Jungle (The), 111
Lay of the Explorer (The), 33
Lay of the Vigilant (The), 204
Lessons in Laughter, 174
Letters from a Débutante, 168, 180, 183
Letters to a Débutante, 229
Lex Talionis, 141
Light in Darkness, 162
Lines by a Lazy Body, 120

Lines in Pleasant Places, 21, 49, 74, 131, 153

Lines to a Lady, 253
Links (The), 213
Literary Intelligence, 121
Little Ah Sid, 183
Little Flirtation (A), 147
Little Holiday (A), 69
"Little too Previous!" (A), 102
"Living Pictures," 197
Local Colour, 210
London Bicyclists, 49

Lord Ormont's Mate and Matey's Aminta, 37, 57, 61

Lord Rosebery in the North, 159
Lost in London, 285
"Lost Rings," 149
Love's Labour Not Lost, 279
Lowered! 71
Lower Education of Women (The), 11
Lunnon Twang (The), 159
"Lying Low," 294

Lyre and Lancet, 4, 16, 28, 40, 52, 64, 76, 88, 100, 112, 124, 136, 148, 160, 172, 184, 196, 208, 220, 239, 244, 256, 268, 280

Making of a Man (The), 293
Making the Running with the Derby Winner, 169
"Man in Armour" to the Multitude, 228
March of Civilisation (The), 61
Mary Jones, 285
"Matrimonial Obedience," 179
Matron's Hiss (The), 178
Mayen-aisy-now! 233
Mayennaise v. Mayonnaise, 203, 209
Message from Mars (The), 81
Midsummer Day-Dream (A), 30
Minx (The), 33
Moan from Mitcham (A), 135
Mobilised Mandarin (The), 141
Modern Madame (A), 27
Modern Mangers, 183
Modern Society Play (The), 285
Modern Tragedy (A), 93
Morbidezza, 204
More Ornamental than Useful, 73
More She-Notes, 249, 276
Morgenlied, 145
"Moving about in Worlds not realised," 192
"Mowing them Down!" 66
Mr. Punch on Billiards, 238
Mr. Punch on Peeler Piper, 135
Mr. Punch to Two Noble Sportsmen, 22
Mrs. Prowlina Pry, 195
Much Ado about Nothing, 279
Muddy Milan, 171
Music with a Future (The), 251
"Mutes and Liquids," 121

New Air (The), 87
New and Old, 241
New Candidate (The), 209
New Departure (A), 216
New Fashion (The), 167
New Heroine (The), 293
New Honours, 276
New Lamps for Old, 137
New Man (The), 167
New Nectar (The), 286
New Newness (The), 84
New Party (The), 18
News from Norwich, 131
Next War (The), 94
Noble Half-Hundred! 94
Noblesse Oblige, 1, 75
"Nobody Looking!" 246
Nomine Tantum, 21
Nominis Umbra, 253
Notices to Correspondents, 286
Not Master of himself though China fall, 74
Novelist's Vade Mecum (The), 261
Novelties in Gastronomy, 251

O. B. C. (Limited) (The), 177
Ode for the Marriage Season, 131, 142
Ode on a Distant Partridge, 138
Ode on Sacrifice, 49
Ode to Ixion, 82
Of Vain Colours, 288
"Oh, the Mistletoe Bough!" 306
"Oh, you Wicked Story!" 99
"Old Offender" (An), 282
Old Three-Vol., 63
Oliver Wendell Holmes, 191
Ollendorfian, 258
On a Clumsy Cricketer, 106
One Man One Job, 297
On the War in the East, 133
Operatic Notes, 17
Origin of the Blush-Rose, 206
Our All-round Exchangers' Company, 197
"Our Benighted Ancestors," 132

Our Booking-Office, 1, 22, 25, 65 107, 132, 161, 173, 181, 203, 205, 228, 233, 252, 257, 269, 288, 300, 304

Our Charity Fête, 60
Our "Monthly Pops," 240
Our National Defences, 129
"Out we go!" 119
Oxford and Yale, 48
Oyster and the Sparrow (The), 93

Page from "Rosebery's History of the Commonwealth," 106

Partially Unreported Dialogue, 11
Pat the Patriot, 215
Perils of a Jesting Premier (The), 298
"Personally Conducted," 51
Phalse Note on George the Fourth, 204
Phosphorescence in Art, 24
Pier of the Empire (A), 189
Pious Lyncher's Creed (The), 120
Plague of Poets (The), 121
Plaint of the Unwilling Peer (The), 82

Polite Guide to the Civil Service (The), 207, 227, 234

Political Conference, 231
Polychrome English, 193
Possible Developments, 203
Princely Offer (A), 144

Professor of the Period (The), 153

Puff and a Blow (A), 21
Pullman Car (The), 107
Punch to the New Attorney-General, 205
"Putting his Foot in it," 78

Queer Queries, 83, 101, 107, 117, 246, 297

Question and Answer, 135

Ranelagh in Rain, 47
Rational Dress, 101
Reading between the Lines, 305
Reflections, 167
Remnants, 63
"Rhymes," 109
Rhyme to Rosebery, 96
Rider's Vade Mecum (The), 51
Riverside Lament (A), 25
Robert and Grinnidge, 94
Robert and Unifikashun, 281
Robert Louis Stevenson, 303
Robert on Amerrycans, 120
Robert on the Wonderful Bridge again, 9
Robert's Picter, 145
Robert's Sollem Adwise, 217
"Room for a Big One!" 99
Royal Welsh Bard (The), 86
Rubenstein, 255
Rule, "Britannia," 33
Runner Nuisance (The), 125

Sapphics on Traffic, 117
Saturday Pops, 71
School-Board Apple-Pie (The), 219
Scott on the New Woman, 73
Sea-Fairies (The), 122
Sea-quence of Sonnets (A), 153
Seasons (The), 274
Sitting on Our Senate, 106
Sequel to the Story of Ung (A), 300
Seven Ages of Rosebery (The), 165
"Shaky!" 270
Silly Seasoning, 110
Slight Adaptation (A), 228
Slow and not quite Sure, 165
Snubbed Professional's Vade Mecum, 289
Society for the Advancement of Literature, 89
Soft Answer (A), 11
Song for the Slogger (A), 117
Song of the Impecunious Bard, 131
Song of the Leaders (The), 201
Song of the Twentieth Century (A), 22
Songs of the Streets, 5, 16
Sounding the Antitoxin, 274
Sport for Ratepayers, 49
State Aid for Matrimony, 13
St. Leger Coincidence (A), 135
Suggested Addendum (A), 126
Sunday Lecture Case (The), 285

Tale of a Vote (The), 201
Tale of Two Telegrams (The), 97
Talk à la Mode de Londres, 261
Talk in Court, 22
Teddie the Tiler, 192
Tempora Mutantur, 131
"Terrible in his Anger!" 159
Terrible Transformation (A), 145
Thanks to the "Bystander," 133
That Advanced Woman! 142
Those Lancers, 303
"Three Cheers for the Emperor," 297
Three Christmas Greetings, 301
Tips, 144
To a Lady, 294
To Althea in Church, 145
To Althea in the Stalls, 33
To Amanda, 180
To a Philanthropist, 105
To a Pretty Unknown, 192
To a Scorcher, 142
To a Surrey Hostess, 85
To a Would-be Authoress, 93
To a Would-be Despot, 215
To a Venetian Policeman, 195
To a Veteran Champion, 83
"To be taken as read," 77
To Dorothy, 108
To Hanwellia from Earlswood, 137
To her Mother, 120
To Lettina, 209
To Melenda, 309
To Molly, 229
To my Beef Tea, 77
To Philadelphia, 302
To Sentiment, 144
To the Oxford Cricket Captain, 17
Touching Appeal (A), 234
Tree with Variegated Leaves, 277
"Tripping Merrily," 143
Triumph of the School Board (A), 265
True Glory, 276
Truisms of Life (The), 287, 293
Trust to be Trusted (A), 149
Two "General" Favourites, 203
Two Ways of Auditing, 206

Unrest! 174

Vacuous Time (The), 119
Vade Mecum for the Naval Manœvres, 37
Vagabond Verses, 219
Venetian Flower-Sellers, 191
Verse and Choral Summing-up, 203
Verses to the Weather Maiden, 93
"Vested Interests," 186
Village Blacksmith (The), 282
"Vive la République!" 6
Voice from "the Upper Suckles" (A), 85
Volunteer's Vade Mecum (The), 25
Vote of Thanks (A), 65
Voyage of Alfred (The), 113

Waiting their Turn, 18
War Cry (The), 54
Wet-Willow, 107
What's in a Name, indeed? 47
What we may expect soon, 27
Wheel and Whoa! 137
Where are you going, revolting Maid? 198
Where to go, 82
Whims of Amphitryon (The), 245
Whither Away? 9
"Wigs on the Green!" 126
"Winding'em up," 198
With Kind Regards, 277
Words to the Wise Women, 275

Ye Gentlemen of Holland, 78
Yellow Age (The), 66
Yellow Riding-Habit (The), 94
Yet another Memoir of Napoleon, 13
Young Pretender (The), 138
Yule Gretynge (A), 300

LARGE ENGRAVINGS.

- "All's Well!" 259

- "Awkward Customer" (An), 211

- Chief Mourner (The), 223
- Corean Cockfight (The), 55
- Counting the Catch, 91

- Don't "Come unto these Yellow Sands"! 115

- "Evicted Tenants," 43

- "For Example!" 163

- "Friend in Need——" (A), 31

- Jap the Giant-killer, 151

- "Little too Previous!" (A), 103

- "Lying Low," 295

- "Mowing them Down!" 67

- "Nobody Looking!" 247

- "Oh, the Mistletoe Bough!" 67

- "Old Offender" (An), 283

- "Putting his Foot in it," 79

- "Shaky!" 271

- Touching Appeal (A), 235

- Unrest! 175

- "Vested Interests," 187

- "Vive la République!" 7

- Waiting their Turn, 19
- "Wigs on the Green," 127
- "Winding'em up!" 199

- Young Pretender (The), 139

SMALL ENGRAVINGS.

Admiral and his Beard, 275
Ambiguous Invitation to the Major, 251
Andrew dividing the Orange, 49
Animals' Stroll in the Zoo, 81
'Arry and Grass Seeds at Bisley, 29
'Arry and Li Hung Chang's Feather, 180
'Arry and the "Brighton A's," 231
'Arry introducing 'Arriet to Bill, 193
'Arry on the Lords and the Ladies, 261
'Arry photographed on Horseback, 75
Art Critic and Child's Sketch, 6

Baby and Grandpapa's Microscope, 234
Bad Dancer's Opinion of Girls, 22
Bishop and Boating Clergyman, 215
Boy's Mamma who Snores, 126
Boy who Lost all his Buttons, 286
British Farmer and Ceres, 134
British Farmer's Luck turning, 26
Broken Venus of Milo, 11
Brown's "pretty Flat," 232
Bullet-proof Coat for Pet Dog, 41

Caddie's Idea of Excitement (A), 59
Change of Name at Marriage, 167
Chick-a-leary Cochin, 201
Child Patient and Hospital Nurse, 102
Civilisation and War in the East, 62
Climbing the Araucaria, 303
Clubber's Club, 157
Coachman well known at West End, 42
Colonel's Nephew's Man-Servant, 155
"Constant Reader" writing to Papers, 209
Contrasted Couples at Sea-side, 114
Country Lady and Major Visitor, 198
Cow Stamp on the Butter, 74
Cromwell and the Statues, 98
Curate at an Otter-hunt, 39
Curate sings "The Brigand's Revenge," 283
Cyclist startling Fox-hunter, 304

Dancing Ostrich (The), 165

Discussing a Beastly Book, 227

Engagement Ring weights the Boat, 53
Epicure to his Love (An), 181
Eton Boy and the Floods, 253

Fat Diner's Hungry Acquaintance, 297
Fisherman's Empty Flask, 73
Fond Wife and the Stupid Paper, 82
Forgetting whom he took into Dinner, 210
French Lady and our Artist's Wife, 30

German Emperor's Song (The), 178
Giving Hunting Mare her Head, 267
Gladstone and the Microscope, 254
Gladstone and the "Twelfth," 61
Gladstonius sings to Roseberius, 230
Golfers playing Spillikins, 27
Grandma's Friend of Forty Years ago, 150
Gutter Children and Cheap Gloves, 121

Hair-dressing Room in the Commons, 202
Harcourt as "Old Kaspar," 2
Harcourt's Bills personally conducted, 50
Hippopotamus Policeman, 141
Hodge and the Apple of Power, 266
Housewife and Lazy Tramp, 15
Hunter's Seedy Tale (A), 171
Hunting Party at a Deep Brook, 279

Infant's Contempt of Court, 13
Invalid and her Lady Visitor, 57
Invalided Weather-Girl, 107
Irish Chamber of Horrors, 166
Irish Jarvey and the Scenery, 24

Jap Lectures on the Art of War, 290
Johnny and Pills in a Pear, 65
Jones not Dining anywhere, 36
Jones's Handsome Umbrella, 87
Justin McCarthy's Anger, 158
Juveniles discussing Hats in Church, 138

Keeper's Dog's Force of Habit, 301
Keeper's Remark on Strong Birds, 147
Kitchen Improvements in the House, 214

Ladies "at Home" to Visitors, 246
Lady Vocalist's Small Chest (A), 277
Laureateship Apple of Discord (The), 38
Little Ah Sid and the Butterfly Bee, 182
Little Boy and "'Maginations," 207
Little Girls and Fairy Tale, 5
Little Girl and Five-days' Foal, 69
Little Girl and German Doctor, 191
Little Girl's Matrimonial "Hint," 107
Little Girl's Message to Shoemaker, 144
London Boy and J.'s Knickerbockers, 71
London Passenger and Paris Porters, 119
London Schoolgirl and little Friend, 273

Major's Cheap Burgundy, 94
Mamma and Missie's Age, 78
Master discharging his Coachman, 142
Maud's Country Cousin on Horseback, 21
Miss Golightly and her Partner, 153
Miss Grace at a Golf Match, 159
Miss Roland's Two Hansoms, 258
Miss Unified London's Toys, 170
Mr. G.'s Flirtation with Miss C., 146
Mr. Punch at White Lodge, 1
Mr. Simpkin's Misquotation at Dinner, 54
Mrs. Jinks on the effect of Liqueurs, 263
Mrs. Pry entering the Empire, 194
Mrs. Weaver and the New Chimes, 238
Music blending with Conversation, 18

Nervous Amateur and Stage Fright, 118
Nervous Youth and a Clever Beauty, 174
New Lord Chief Justice and Punch, 14
Newly-Upholstered Room (A), 186
"New Woman" Rabbit-Shooter, 111
Norfolk Bathers' Scotch Friend, 156
Nothing stops a Hard-mouthed Grey, 51

Old Crossing-Sweeper's Obstinacy, 83
Old Lady of Threadneedle Street's Gold, 86
Orlando and Rosalind Cycling, 25
Ostentatiously Good Fences, 219

Parliamentary Flying Machine, 217
Parliamentary Swimming-Bath, 58
Pat and the Kicking Horse, 255
"Perambulators not admitted," 131
Police making way for Perambulator, 45
Postman and Nursery-Maids, 63
Prehistoric Cricket-Match (A), 34
Prehistoric Dragon-shooting, 262
Prehistoric Football Match (A), 190
Prehistoric Henley Regatta, 10
Prehistoric Highland Stalking, 154
Prehistoric Lord Mayor's Show, 226
Prehistoric Naval Manœuvres, 70
Prehistoric Seaside Resort, 130
Prehistoric Skating, 310
Professor and Atlas Omnibuses, 287
Punch and the Prince on Muscovy, 278
Punch and the Sirens, 122
Pupil Farmer thrown on his Head, 243
Putting O'Flaherty into a Novel, 298

Rat-tailed Hunter in the Rain, 195
Reduced Noblemen in Disguise, 110
Result of Sal's Re-marrying, 105
Rosebery as Bob Acres, 218
Row at the Schoolboard (The), 242
Rugby Footballer at a Dance, 270

Schoolboy and Tragedian, 123
Scotch Landlady on Salmon-poaching, 299
Scotchman threatens to go to Law, 265
Scotch Parishioner and Whisky, 250
Scotch Tourists in Search of Dinner, 183
Shopping, not Buying, 245
Short 'Arry and Long Alf, 149
"Shot Over" Pony (A), 237
Sea-Lion Ashore (The), 177
Seven Miles from Peebles, 95
Snapdragon Galop (The), 302
Society Crush at Hyde Park Corner, 3
Stork as he might have been (The), 213
Stout Citizen and Irish Beggar, 229
Swell compliments Splendid Dancer, 306
Swells discussing Behaviour, 185
Swell's Opinion about Stout Ladies, 162
Swell suffering from Insomnia, 203

Taking Lady's Skirt for 'Bus Apron, 291
Temperance Enthusiast and Boatman, 274
Three Lovers, 90
Tommy and his Aunt's Age, 179
Two or Three Nice Americans, 66
Two Sons passing Examinations, 289

Vicar's Daughter on Snoring, 294
Volunteer Sentry and Rustic, 249
Vulgar Boy and little Dog's Tail, 285

Washing St. Paul's suggested, 206

Winning Jockey and Irish Stable-boy, 99

Yokel's Impression of London, 106
Young Couple residing in Hill Street, 222
Young Farmer and Groom, 305
Young Lady's Ball Presents, 97

LONDON: BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO., LIMITED. PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS

Transcriber's Note:

Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation are as in the original.

*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI, VOLUME 107, DECEMBER 29TH 1894 ***

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Table of Contents

- Punch, or the London Charivari Volume 107, December 29th 1894 edited by Sir Francis Burnand

- THE COMPLIMENTS OF THE SEASON

- THREE CHRISTMAS GREETINGS.

- MR. PUNCH'S CHRISTMAS BOXES.

- TO PHILADELPHIA.

- A DOG ON HIS DAY.

- AN AFTERPART À LA L. C. C.

- THOSE LANCERS.

- AT THE WESTMINSTER PLAY

- Robert Louis Stevenson.

- OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.

- READING BETWEEN THE LINES.

- CURIOUS ACCIDENT TO MRS. RAMSBOTHAM.

- TO MELENDA.

- FIRST IMPRESSIONS.

- LARGE ENGRAVINGS.

- SMALL ENGRAVINGS.

- THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE